Album Review: I Took It Personal by Nick Grant
Nick Grant opens up about his time in the major-label system, reflecting on the industry's pitfalls, but makes it clear that he hasn’t forgotten where he came from, even as he steps into new ground.
Nick Grant’s career, from a hungry newcomer to a seasoned lyricist, has been a lesson in perseverance and an unwavering respect for hip-hop tradition. He first caught attention in 2016 with the breakout mixtape 88, a project steeped in the sample-based, boom-bap sounds of rap’s golden era. That tape, backed by Grand Hustle Records, showcased Grant’s dense bars over classic jazz and R&B loops, immediately marking him as an old soul in a modern game. His official debut album, Return of the Cool, soon followed, supported by Epic Records, and while he showed potential, it was a disappointing release for most.
However, Grant continued to evolve with Dreamin’ Out Loud, the acclaimed God Bless the Child EP (crafted alongside Top Dawg Entertainment producer Tae Beast), Welcome to Loveland, and one of our 2023’s best releases, Sunday Dinner. These projects expanded his creative range and depth. With each release, from the conceptual storytelling of Sunday Dinner to the soulful introspection of God Bless the Child, he added new layers to his artistry and remained true to the boom-bap roots he cherished. That journey came to a head in I Took It Personal, his latest effort, which synthesizes the lessons of his industry experience with a bold embrace of contemporary sounds.
From the outset, ITIP makes it clear that Grant hasn’t forgotten where he came from, even as he pushes into new territory. The opening track, “Unforgettable,” sets a reflective tone with its warm “Real Love” sample riding over a crisp, boom-bap break. It’s a nostalgic nod to the style that put him on the map; the beat carries “remnants of the past” in its dusty loops and head-nodding drums, while Grant looks back at the legacy he’s building as a hustler and scholar, vulnerable child and unbowed adult, insider and outsider all at once. He turns a critical eye toward the music business, exposing its harsh incentives. Grant spits, “Another artist at the corporate office askin’, ‘What percent they givin’ up when they make offers?’/When I demand, I wantin’ all my shit, they make it awkward” deliver his dismay in vernacular that feels ripped from an actual boardroom. He refuses to gloss over exploitative practices (“Flagship artists rape a nigga, recordings/They do whatever for the viral moment”), and yet immediately refuses to be silenced by them.
As the album progresses, Grant deftly balances homage and progression. He honors the classic hip-hop blueprint with soulful samples and lyrical craftsmanship, but he’s equally willing to ride modern production trends. This might be his most sonically eclectic project to date, incorporating elements from boom-bap and jazz-rap, as well as trap and even drill influences. One of the early highlights is the ambitious two-part suite, “Let It Reign/Read Your Contract,” which sums up I Took It Personal’s blend of bravado and hard-earned wisdom. In the “Let It Reign” segment, a soulful, celebratory beat backs Grant as he launches into pure braggadocio, delivering battle-ready bars with the swagger of an emcee who knows his pen game is elite. In the second half, his focus shifts from personal stakes to industry warfare. By oscillating between scorn for exploiters and counsel for the uninitiated, he structures the music industry less as a playground than as a gauntlet where vigilance proves as crucial as talent.
Even as he pays homage to vintage styles, Grant finds room to experiment with newer sounds, adding a modern bite to the album’s latter half. One example is “Back Home,” where he experiments with a bit of sample-based production. The track seamlessly merges a drill-inspired instrumental with a soulful sample, creating an unexpected yet compelling hybrid. Here, Grant reflects on his journey from the mud to a major label, noting how far he’s come (“going major now” after grinding from nothing) over the rumble of sliding 808s, but it makes one of the weaker moments on the album. “Pass It Out/House Calls” arrives as another two-in-one showcase, which plays with mainstream sounds, making Grant’s delivery feel uninteresting, but keeps the project’s dynamic pacing from becoming stagnant. In the first half (“Pass It Out”), the production is hazy and atmospheric, almost a cloud rap vibe, as Grant goes on the offensive, looking to smoke the competition in a foggy, laid-back tone Then the track flips to “House Calls,” which brings a more urgent drum pattern, as he warns that there’s “a problem if the dogs get called.”
The album brims with moments that remind you why Nick Grant is regarded as a true wordsmith. His confidence remains unshakeable throughout, whether he’s claiming dominance over rivals or narrating his own struggles; Grant delivers his bars with the poise of a veteran. But it’s not just posturing; many of the album’s best lines come from a place of hard truth or clever wit. On “Love for the Mob,” for example, over a moody, low-key beat, Grant slips in one of the project’s slyest double entendres. He brags about “keeping it P and moving in silence like Psalms, a slick line that shows off his playful wordplay (the silent “P” in Psalms reinforcing the idea of staying quiet and low-key). It’s a blink-and-you-miss-it punchline that adds a layer of humor to his cool demeanor. He can turn around and deliver emotional honesty with equal skill. Take “The Pride,” where Grant is playful and tender, joking with his partner one moment and getting candid about their bond the next. Even a concept-driven cut like “Product, Dealer, User” holds a personal edge as Grant uses drug-trade metaphors to reflect on the rap game, quipping that he’ll make your favorite MC “relapse” on his lines. It’s equal parts bravado and sobering street observation, the kind of layered writing that shows how far his storytelling has come.
The emotional focal point comes from the Earth, Wind & Fire-sampled “Something to Sei,” by dedicating the song to his son. Grant confronts the paradox of paternal pride and vulnerability, capturing the absurd longing to swap places with his child, even as he pledges undying devotion. With pairing cinematic imagery (“brilliant actors in trash films”) with raw self-reflection (“I was a poor child trying to fill someone else’s cup”), he maps an emotional trajectory from trauma to tenderness. The razor’s edge he walks between regret and hope is sharpened when he prays that his son will inherit the mother’s steadier nature, “She’s like the better side of you, son, if I’m being honest,” and then stakes his future on protecting this newfound center of gravity. He sounds energized on the final track as he delivers parting shots and witty send-offs, making sure to get the last word in style. The title “It Ain’t Personal” plays like a wry counterpoint to the album’s title. After spending an entire record pouring out his experiences and grievances, and in classic battle-rap tradition, he throws in a last boast about how he’s “shooting” his competition on the mic so much it’s like someone’s filming an action scene around him.
Far from diluting his identity, this range only sharpens the album’s impact, because at the center of it all is Grant’s focused storytelling and charismatic delivery. ITIP feels like the culmination of everything Nick Grant has been building toward in his career so far. It’s a record that honors his roots, the love of soulful boom-bap, the endless wordplay, the devotion to real lyricism, while also embracing the contemporary sounds and lessons of the current era. He’s grown from the hungry newcomer on 88 into a mature artist who can reflect on the industry that raised him and turn those reflections into compelling music. There’s a sense that Grant truly took it personal in the best way possible; every slight, every triumph, every lesson learned has been channeled into these songs. You hear an artist who has navigated label politics and personal struggles, and come out the other side more versatile and self-assured.
Great (★★★★☆)
Favorite Track(s): “Let It Reign/Read Your Contract,” “Product, Dealer User,” “Something to Sei”