27.01.25

British rap’s hottest global star doubles down on his quest for world domination on his anticipated debut – but was it worth the wait?

A glance at the tracklist for Central Cee’s long-awaited debut album tells you all you need to know about how Stateside success is rubbing off on the west London rapper. Features from 21 Savage, Lil Baby and Lil Dirk suggest an artist at ease within the upper echelons of mainstream US rap, and are testament to the extent Cench’s own slick, uncomplicated vocal style and willingness to bridge cultural divides has paid dividends on the global stage. 

Can’t Rush Greatness, then, shores up the 26-year-old’s status as UK rap’s foremost crossover star, extending this tried-and-tested formula via tracks like GBP, where Cench and 21 exchange bars on the differences between US and UK culture (“That’s GBP/ The price goes up if it’s USD”). Understandably for a debut, plenty of emphasis is placed on the journey from Shepherds Bush to global stardom. The rapper born Oakley Neil Caesar-Su was raised in poverty by a single mum and exposed to drugs and crime as a teenager. These shaping forces were captured on earlier records, including his record-breaking 2023 chart-topper Dave collab Sprinter: “We ain’t got generational wealth/ It’s only a year that I’ve had these millions”. 

As his profile has grown, his output has broadly cleaved to Latin-flecked, chart-friendly takes on UK drill, and this sound shapes his debut intricately. He reconvenes with Dave for CRG, a standout track with a West African-inspired percussive section that lifts the listener to a dusky far-off beach bar. Here, he demonstrates some of his most technical flows, fusing staccato with silky smooth in rapidly-delivered bars, such as the winkingly funny “Know that you got famous when you get a crib and it ain’t got a number/ Shit’s got a name”. 

A broader theme of social mobility permeates the whole record, with boasts like “Nobody else from London’s gone Hollywood”, and the harder-to-dispute “All of the moves that I make in America makes it easier for them”. He emphasises that global reach with the high-energy Latin funk-infused Gata, on which rising Puerto Rican star Young Miko is given plenty of space to flex, dropping her trademark braggadocious lyrics.

Gata is one of several tracks that relies heavily on the percussive triplets that have long been hallmarks of UK drill; Cench’s laid-back productions often bring this syncopation to the forefront and dial back the subs and kicks, leaning instead on skittering hi-hats and rimshots. It’s a lighter take on a sound that feels targeted to the broadest audience possible – and his momentous streaming figures highlight that the formula is working. 

It’s a version of drill that aptly reflects an ongoing loosening of his ties to the streets. It might lack the punch of an ominous Carns Hill production or the invention of Headie One‘s drill experimentations, but it fizzes with purpose, imparting a sense of progression. Central Cee recently moved into a huge suburban mansion with ten close friends, a gaff where, as he raps on Gata, his “neighbour is a Karen”. In a recent interview for GQ, the rapper admitted to having some nerves about rapping from this vantage point. By focusing on the journey while showing restraint when it comes to social commentary, Can’t Rush Greatness effectively swerves around this issue.

It falls to album closer Don’t Know Anymore to sharpen the album’s standard rags-to-riches tale into something with a bit more bite. The track lands some of the record’s most cutting comments on class and poverty, such as “It was free school meals, we never had a packed lunch” and “Cutting the mould of the loaf of bread and I look in the fridge and the milk’s expired”. A little more exploration of these conditions, and of the situations faced by peers who haven’t reached Cee’s level of wealth and status, you feel, would give Can’t Rush Greatness an emotional centre it at times lacks. In general, CRG sidesteps the kind of complex, nuanced storytelling that saw the debut albums of peers like Dave or Stormzy garlanded in praise. 

But perhaps expecting anything different is to misunderstand Central Cee; his qualities are simpler, his messaging primary-coloured. Matched with a relentless drive and a canny understanding of popular culture, his self-aware, open-book persona, underlined in lyrics like “I don’t know how to write a song/ I just rhyme on beat and say how I feel” has created a sense of reach few artists can muster, connecting him with listeners in Birmingham, Brussels and Boston. Nothing about Can’t Rush Greatness is unexpected; but you sense that’s the point.

 

Fred Garratt-Stanley