Last October, Lil Durk was arrested on federal murder-for-hire charges after authorities gathered alleged evidence that he had orchestrated the August 2022 attempted murder of Quando Rondo. At the time of his arrest, Durk was just weeks away from releasing Deep Thoughts, his ninth studio album. That album, of course, was subsequently delayed.
Durk is scheduled to stand trial in October, and his future remains uncertain. He could face a potential life sentence in federal prison. Despite this, he remains one of the most popular rappers in contemporary hip-hop, having earned numerous accolades, including becoming one of the most RIAA-certified rappers in history.
With all of that context in mind, we finally get Deep Thoughts, a somber and decidedly non-commercial album, with songs that feel like they were made by someone on the run. Over the years, Durk has gradually moved away from his harder, more abrasive drill sounds, experimenting with everything from country ballads with Morgan Wallen (“Stand by Me”) to pop-tinged tracks with Drake (“Laugh Now Cry Later”). This evolution culminated in the schmaltzy yet successful “All My Life,” which earned him and J. Cole a Grammy. However, this time, instead of using his melodic talents to craft a hit, Durk created an album of, essentially, blues songs.
The album continues a trend for Durk: despite the ongoing court cases and whispers surrounding him, he has embraced a more melodic, introspective stance that contrasts with his drill origins. It can be jarring to hear how pensive and religious the album feels at times, with the upcoming federal case looming almost over nearly every track.
We analyze that idea—and other takeaways about Deep Thoughts—below.
Lil Durk is, at times, uncomfortably accurate
For years, Chicago drill has been known for its proximity to reality. But few artists have been as authentic as Lil Durk, who's got all the arrests to prove it. Unfortunately for him, Deep Thoughts is probably too real—so close to the truth that it's all become unnerving. Throughout the album, Durk nods to the perils of spinning with the wrong spinners and navigating the all-seeing eye of state-sponsored surveillance. "I can't sеnd no money in my name 'cause lil' bro a killer, he killed his gump ass/I don't even know if the feds tryna set me up 'cause you woofin' with yo' lil' gump ass," he raps, infamously, on "Monitoring Me," one of the singles off of the album.
Of course it’s a little jarring to hear lines like this while Durk is in the middle of the legal quagmire he’s in. Chillingly, in texts cited in the indictment, Durk allegedly told hired killers not to buy anything in his name. Though, according to authorities, they apparently missed the memo; they allegedly ended up using the OTF company credit card to help make arrangements for the shooting.
That's just one parallel. By the nature of his subject matter, these kinds of topics were always going to come up. and we're reminded of the moments when there's a point when things can get…too real. —Peter A. Berry
Durk Is More In Touch With His Faith Than Ever
Lil Durk converted to Islam years ago. During a 2018 interview with VladTV he talked about converting and some of the contradictions that come with trying to live a righteous life while being tied to the streets. Over the years, he’s become more open about his faith, but he rarely embraces it the way he does on Deep Thoughts.
Appropriately enough, the album opens with a literal prayer, heard in the opening moments of "Shaking When I Pray." In that track, he unloads a series of frantic thoughts about addiction, disloyalty, and more, revealing the internal struggles that have pushed him toward greater spirituality: "Well, I did, when I seen—shh, I jumped up out the seat/I be shakin' when I pray 'cause I don't be stretchin' out my knee."
On "Alhamdulillah" (which means "praise be to God"), he sounds somber yet grateful, reflecting on his journey from eating “Rice Krispies” with “no sugar” as a child to driving an Escalade V—not a Suburban, of course—as an adult. It’s not always so direct, though. On "Vanish Mode," for example, he raps about taking his Shahada, but the song is mostly about chasing women. (Again, those contradictions.)
Religion isn't the only subject he addresses here, but it's clear it plays a significant role in the "deep thoughts" he’s been having. —Peter A. Berry
This album is basically all melancholy songs…which becomes a problem
Days before being picked up by the Feds, Durk released “Monitor Me,” the most aggressive, high-energy tracks on the album. It's essentially the only track with this kind of energy, making it stand out.
In the past, Durk has alternated between bluesy, melodic songs and those with a sharper edge, more aligned with drill 1.0. However, on this album, he largely abandons that balance. Instead, he leans heavily into the downbeat style he’s mastered over the years. Without the contrast of harder-edged tracks, though, the album starts to feel monotonous—like one long song with no variation in place.
This sense of sameness is evident not only in Durk's vocal performance but also in the production, which lacks distinctiveness. Aside from Benny Blanco, who contributed to the new single "Can't Hide It" with Jhené Aiko, Southside and Metro Boomin, the album is mostly shaped by newcomers who don’t introduce much new innovation. Instead, they seem to defer to Durk’s ear.
Not to get too conspiratorial, but I do wonder how much the stress of recent years has influenced his musical choices. If there hadn't been so much real-world tension, might we have seen an album with a more balanced sound? —Dimas Sanfiorenzo
“Keep on Sippin” is the best song on the album
Obviously, with an album titled Deep Thoughts, we expected something contemplative. While the album carries a mournful tone musically, Durk’s writing can sometimes feel a bit scattered or off-the-cuff.
An artist showcasing those contradictions can be interesting in bursts, but Durk is at his best when he's focused. This is most apparent on “Keep on Sippin’”—the second track—where the rapper confronts his struggles with addiction.
Durk often has an unsparing style when rapping about conflicts with opps, so it’s striking to hear that same uncompromising cadence when addressing his own demons. The song touches on how one person’s spiral can have ripple effects. In what’s probably the best verse of the album, he raps about how his addiction has significantly impacted his partner’s life:
“First day up in rehab, I was actin' like I was in denial, I lied, lied, lied, lied
When you cash out on a porn star, you put your lifestyle on the line
I told 'em I'd stop drinkin', they instantly knew I was lying
You dancin' 'round with the demons, you spiritual, take a bath
If you tapped in with the higher power, you don't need to be embarrassed
She told me if I keep sippin', ain't no need to get married
My first day havin' withdrawals, couldn't believe, it was scary
Visine, it was blurry, in the deep, you witness murder
I damn near couldn't believe all the things I done heard of”
When Durk is this focused, raw, and honest, there aren't many rappers who could compete with him.—Dimas Sanfiorenzo
Durk falls into collaboration trap
If you were to ask any of Lil Durk, Future or Lil Baby just who was the voice of the streets, each of them could credibly list themselves. But therein lies the problem: it's become redundant, especially if you create the songs on autopilot. That issue plagues Lil Durk on some of the rap collabs on the album. On one hand, "They Want to Be You" feels like the end result of a ChatGPT prompt: "Make a perfectly adequate Smurk and Future song." All the normal stuff is here. They're 10 toes down. They elevated their family and, no, you can't do what they did. This one has big throwaway energy. Ditto for the Lil Baby-assisted "1,000 Times," which sounds like the thousandth time we've all heard a track like this.
It's disappointing, but this is the sort of sterility that can come with being a prolific artist; after a while, you McDonaldize yourself and your song structures and lyrics can feel imitations of themselves. That's not necessarily the case for Deep Thoughts as a whole, but it is for much of the rap world. For about eight years now, every supposed A-list album includes the same features, and as these tracks remind us, that bland formula for mass production doesn't do much besides earn streams. Today, it's getting an eye-roll emoji — at least from me.—Peter A. Berry
This album sure does sound like a goodbye
As grim as it is to consider, the most unsettling thing about Lil Durk’s future is the haunting possibility that he may not have one—at least not outside of a cell.
Durk has been locked up for months now. With his trial just a couple of months away, with his lawyers surely working to make sure his case is as strong as possible, it could be delayed again. And again. Thus far, his imprisonment has already slowed up his career plans. Like we mentioned before, Deep Thoughts was supposed to drop last year and it was clear that when he got booked he was in the middle of promoting the album. (There was even that awkward moment at the beginning of the year when Central Cee dropped the video for their collaboration “Truth in the Lies” before Durk had a chance to push his own work.)
Given the album’s heavy, reflective mood and the timing of its release, it feels like a final chapter—a last send-off. While it may not match the peaks of his earlier work, it undeniably captures a very specific time in his life. And If Durk is convicted, everything will change for him. He will likely have to rely on a collection of unreleased music to stay relevant in the industry.
The documentary that accompanies the album helps to solidify this moment. It showcases behind-the-scenes footage of Durk recording the album. Ironically, he appears mostly upbeat throughout the process, surrounded by a close-knit group of friends. But as the 10-minute documentary unfolds, there’s a dark undercurrent that finally manifests in the final moments, where the film almost abruptly shifts to address his legal troubles. —Peter A. Berry