Album Review: Can’t Rush Greatness by Central Cee
On Can’t Rush Greatness, Central Cee shows us that the great pressure, unfortunately, didn’t produce any diamonds.
By the numbers alone, Central Cee must be the biggest newcomer of this British rap decade: “I’ll get number one album, easy, it’s not like the bar’s set high these days/I came in the scene at an all-time low, I don’t know, but I think I revived the game,” he himself asserts. The unflappable young guy from London with the drill hits knows his album has to justify the heavy hype. But as much as the title Can’t Rush Greatness may be true—on this album, the “greatness” really does move quite slowly.
This is a boring album with a boring cover by an apparently boring guy. He has so little to say that you can be sure any statement he does have will repeat at least three to five times. Rarely has a listening session been so marked by the feeling of “Didn’t he say that a minute ago?” There are jokes about Gen Z, jokes about being British, he rose from the bottom, he had no “generational wealth.” It’s tough when the first album at the top of the game already feels like the gag got old a while ago.
Central Cee is fairly dependent on his lyrics. Essentially, he has a cool flow that’s precise and agile, putting the words front and center. There’s a lot of the Freaky Frog in how his lines sound like snippets from real conversations. He’s charismatic, easy to follow, and gives himself a lot of room for jabs and punchlines.
The best songs are the ones where he at least tries to break out some deeper insight. That would be “Top Freestyle” and the intro “No Introduction,” where the oft-repeated three points about his come-up are delivered in their most tolerable form. Otherwise, there are, of course, songs aiming to make his flow pop against British drill bass in the catchiest way possible. But one has to admit that “Sprinter” with Dave will probably forever be his “Bad and Boujee”: that sound is a bit of a one-trick pony, and that was its best iteration. Whenever I listen to his Dave collab “CRG,” I can’t help asking myself why I’m not just listening to “Sprinter” instead.
Can’t Rush Greatness seems to realize about halfway through that it’s running out of tricks and that simply stretching his On the Radar freestyle into an hour won’t cut it. So why not dig out the gimmicks from the start of his career again? Woo—who isn’t tired of sample drill by now?!
Granted, the hidden feature by Kamal. on “Now We’re Strangers” isn’t technically a sample, but it follows the same corny “Thugs need love too” formula as back when Cee was still sampling Passenger—just less funny. “Truth In the Lies” is, after tracks by Real Boston Richey and Quinn, the third (!) song in half a year that tries to squeeze a drop of nostalgic radio vibes out of Ne-Yo’s “So Sick.” It’s almost funny because of the terrible impulses from guest Lil Durk but for the wrong reasons.
Speaking of features, he’s not that good with them. In 2025, 21 Savage, Lil Baby, and Lil Durk aren’t exactly artists whose presence on a tracklist will make anyone jump for joy, but you still appreciate them for breaking the monotony a bit. They don’t really score, though. 21 Savage, for maybe the fifth time, cracks jokes about his British origins. And the mic handoff between Lil Baby and Central Cee sounds so clumsy and strange—just from how their voices are mixed—that they might as well hail from different rap galaxies. The Puerto Rican Young Miko is apparently the focus of almost an entire song. Whether she knew these parts were meant for a Central Cee album (or who Central Cee even is) remains unclear.
It’s odd. Central Cee repeatedly states on this album—and not without reason—that he should rank among the greats. He’s got mic skills, he’s got charisma, he’s even had hits so far. But this album is such a dreary affair that it’s no surprise he often seems unsure of himself. On the intro, he says:
“I hear them talkin’, seein’ the tweets, I’m seein’ the forums/Seein’ them mention everyone else but me like say that I’m not important.”
On “5 Star”: “I felt like a prick when I went to the BRITs, and they gave the award to a guy called Aitch/I had my acceptance speech prepared like, ‘Long live F’s,’ I’m goin’ insane.” On “Up North”: “The results from the doc came back/And they said that I got the imposter syndrome.” Yes, you can feel the immense pressure on this album. But unfortunately, that pressure hasn’t produced any diamonds. Instead, Cee buckled under it and repeated 50 minutes’ worth of material that worked well once before. That’s hardly the way to stay at the top.
Slightly Below Average (★★½☆☆)
Favorite Track(s): “No Introduction,” “Top Freestyle”