Mixtape Review: Still Snowin’ by Jeezy & DJ Drama
Jeezy’s signature motivational grit is intact, but Still Snowin’ finds fresh ways to frame it, arriving as a conscious nod to the past even as it veers into new sample-heavy, grown man territory.
Jeezy and DJ Drama forged one of hip-hop’s most iconic mixtape partnerships in the mid-2000s, when Gangsta Grillz classics like Trap or Die and Can’t Ban the Snowman helped define the trap era. Decades later and years removed from Snofall, they reunite on Still Snowin’, a new mixtape that honors Jeezy’s birthday and trap legacy while reinventing it for 2025. From the title on down, the Snowman makes it clear his hustle hasn’t thawed; unless you’re expecting more of the same on an auditory landscape standpoint. This project serves as both a celebration of his grind and a bold update of his sound. Jeezy’s signature motivational grit is intact, but Still Snowin’ finds fresh ways to frame it, arriving as a conscious nod to the past even as it veers into new sample-heavy, grown man territory.
What truly distinguishes Still Snowin’ is its unexpected musical palette. Instead of leaning on the dark, menacing trap beats of Jeezy’s past, the production here dives into grooves reminiscent of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. From the jump, Jeezy is in classic form over nostalgic soul-funk samples curated by producers DJ Toomp and Don Cannon. He spits braggadocious dope-boy bars on the opener “Still Snowin’,” even referencing his trap legacy in witty ways—“Had a Beamer, had a Benz, and a Cadillac/Me and the plug back and forth playing pity pat”—over the Blackbyrds’ breezy “Rock Creek Park” groove. The tape’s production leans heavily on such crate-dug gems, giving it a warm, old-school backbone that complements Jeezy’s confident, raspy delivery. Whether he’s flexing over the plush 80s R&B of Loose Ends on “Treason” or riding the silky funk of Slave’s “Son of Slide” on “Slide for Sho,” the beats amplify the mixtape’s celebratory yet streetwise mood.
Jeezy sounds celebratory and hungry at the same time. On “Snowman Party,” he throws an opulent bash for the hustler elite, rapping “ain’t no party like a Snowman party… ain’t no baby lotion, just red wine” while “bosses everywhere… ain’t watching time.” It’s a scene of untouchable luxury—he even jokes about the police being a non-issue: “Five-O at the door, yeah it’s all in your mind/Got the mayor here too, so I won’t pay the fine.” “Slide for Sho” is similarly full of slick bravado. Over a funk-fueled beat, Jeezy struts in mink even in summer and posts courtside at Hawks games with his “head on swivel”—ever aware of sharks circling. He boasts about entrepreneurial wins (“I sold Avión, fuck Patron”) and the kind of reputation where “ain’t a hustler in [the] world that won’t front me a zone,” before dropping a colorful flex that “Nigga, Elon Musk couldn’t make me a clone.” These moments highlight the celebratory vibe: Jeezy enjoying the fruits of his hustle, toasting to success and longevity with the unabashed swagger that made him a Southern rap icon. Even on the playful “Bruce Wayne,” he adopts the billionaire alter-ego for a night of indulgence (“Tonight I’m Bruce Wayne… Snowman sent me”), all while reminding us he’s a “graduate from the streets” and “getting more money” by the time we hear the song.
Amid the celebration, Still Snowin’ doesn’t shy away from street politics and betrayal. Jeezy addresses backstabbers head-on in “Treason,” noting how some friends turned out disloyal: “Some of these niggas for a season/Wouldn’t give a fuck if they ain’t breathing… That’s the funny thing about treason.” His tone is matter-of-fact—he’s been through enough to see fair-weather associates fall by the wayside. “The Whole Town” takes that betrayal theme further, seemingly aimed at an ex-associate he made rich who tried to stunt his shine. “I done made you a million, two, three, four times…/All to find out you were just trying to block my shine,” Jeezy vents, with palpable disgust. The hurt is evident, but so is his resolve to cut off the disloyal (“Stay your ass over there, keep getting how you live”). Even DJ Drama’s well-timed drops amplify the no-nonsense energy, as Jeezy makes it clear he won’t tolerate fake friends or industry clout-chasers. On “Don’t Play Bout Me,” he flips a breezy Howard Johnson song into a warning shot, declaring “It ain’t my business what they say about me/They can kiss my ass… c’est la vie.” He remains unfazed by rumors and haters, keeping his circle close and his focus on achieving success. For the time he hits “Keep That Same Energy,” Jeezy is practically taunting anyone who doubted his staying power—“They say Snow ain’t going hard… Yea bitch, it is me… keep that same energy”—over a thumping flip of Bobby Womack’s “Across 110th Street.” The message is clear: the Snowman thrives off skepticism, and he’s intent on proving naysayers wrong, as he’s done for years.
Where the mixtape truly shines is in Jeezy’s reflection and maturity. “Another Sad Song,” built on the wistful strains of Toni Braxton’s “Another Sad Love Song,” finds Jeezy contemplating the cycle of violence and loss plaguing his community. He paints a grim picture of tragedy when he says, “Just another homicide/Another night, another mama cry… Her baby been identified.” It’s a gut-punch of realism, with Jeezy essentially asking how many more “sad songs” we have to endure. On “Hustlers Paradise,” he turns a celebratory concept into a heartfelt tribute, raising a toast to fallen brothers. Over The System’s “Don’t Disturb This Groove,” he name-drops lost icons—“do this shit for Takeoff… ran into Nipsey… Pac up in this bitch”—creating a heavenly cipher of legends. The track carries a reflective weight as Jeezy interweaves advice into the tribute: “See me, I learned the hard way nigga, that’s why I’m teaching/I went to hell and met the devil… that’s why I’m preaching” he admits, before urging “Fuck these niggas, these bitches—get paper/Raise your kids, get papers, buy acres.” In these bars, you hear Jeezy the OG, passing down wisdom to the next generation of hustlers about family and financial freedom. The spiritual undertones run deep; he references God and the Bible, acknowledging that while faith can save your soul, “your boy can help you with the stove, if you need it”—a sharp double entendre that merges street and gospel.
That mentor mindset continues on “Head to the Sky (You Can Win),” which transforms Sounds of Blackness’ inspirational anthem “Optimistic” into a moving prayer for hustlers. Jeezy speaks to the youth (and perhaps to himself), imploring them to persevere despite the odds. “Slow down, my nigga, you deserve your life… I’m gonna be right there, look towards the light,” he encourages, like a big brother who’s seen too many friends perish. He acknowledges the stress and paranoia that success brings (“Motherfuckers dying everyday… keep praying you don’t be next… All eyes on you, but you do what you gotta”), tying in a subtle Death Row reference (“all eyes on you”) that parallels his own survival in a cutthroat game. It’s powerful to hear Jeezy, once the arrogant young trap star, now balancing motivation with cautionary tales. Even “Inside My Soul” and “Back for More” carry that reflective depth, with Jeezy grateful for growth (“I’m just grateful that I left with my soul and my mind… I was going through some pain… it’s all about healing right now”) and reaffirming his hunger to keep pushing.
On the flip side, he holds loyalty sacred: the Jones Girls-infused “My Friends” is essentially an oath of honor among day-ones, with Jeezy assuring he’s not the type to ever cross or “cheat on” his homies. He’s equally blunt about haters and opportunists; on “Anything,” he calls out people who will say whatever about him to stir the pot. That persistent wariness gives the mixtape an edge—even in moments of celebration, Jeezy sounds like a survivor who’s learned the hard way to trust almost no one. The themes of survival and paranoia are intertwined throughout Still Snowin’, adding depth to what could have simply been a nostalgic victory lap. Instead, Jeezy uses his platform to remind us that the streets are always watching, and that his longevity is no accident but a result of hard lessons in caution and perseverance. It’s a strange formula for him to rap strictly over R&B classics on paper, but the grand retro aesthetic, even a disco-esque feel on some instrumentals, works better than one might expect. Credit for this invigorating shift goes to the producers. Working in tandem across the tape, Toomp and Cannon clearly had fun digging in the crates. They give Jeezy a soundscape that is a far cry from the straightforward trap anthems on which Jeezy built his empire. It’s a more expansive sound than anything Jeezy’s done in the last decade, and that experimentation unlocks a new energy in the Snowman.
By embracing an era-spanning musical approach and digging deeper into his life and times, Jeezy shows he can honor his trap roots while still moving forward. A couple of the experiments here don’t land as hard—at 17 tracks, the mixtape has a bit of excess, and one or two cuts lean a little too heavily on their nostalgic samples (also, he’s not doing anything groundbreaking with his topics and concepts), but those are minor quibbles. For the most part, this project’s risks pay off. Still Snowin’ comes off as a mature, revitalized precursor to whatever Jeezy has brewing next. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be surprising if this mixtape is setting the stage for a full-fledged album, given its reflective tone and thematic ambition, taken from his last double-disc release (I Might Forgive… But I Don’t Forget). Two decades in, Jeezy sounds hungry and inspired, and that makes Still Snowin’ one of his most compelling releases in recent memory. With “If You Don’t Know Me,” any lingering doubts about his legacy are laid to rest. Jeezy sounds triumphant and unbreakable as he drops autobiographical bars over “If You Don’t Know Me by Now” by Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes (which he already rapped over the same sample with Ciara on “Never Ever”), declaring “I done went platinum, sold millions, who knew/I’m the culture, the Elmer’s, the glue.” It’s a mic-drop moment that underscores the whole project’s theme—Jeezy is still snowin’, and hip-hop is better for it.
Favorite Track(s): “Treason,” “Snowman Party,” “Head to the Sky (You Can Win)”