GHOSTFACE KILLAH - SUPREME CLIENTELE 2 (Official Discussion)

[The Predator]

Album Review: Supreme Clientele 2 by Ghostface Killah

(Shatter the Standards)

Ghostface’s willingness to reach back into his archives, involve peers and proteges, and release the work under a banner dedicated to legends demonstrates an artist unafraid to expand it.



In interviews leading up to his full-fledged return, Ghostface Killah structured his task not as an attempt to recreate a moment, but as a return to a particular headspace. He described Supreme Clientele as “a frame of mind and era in time” that can never be duplicated, but said he could “tap back in” by digging through “files from years ago” and pulling together a new Clientele. That explanation offers a practical entry point into understanding why a sequel to one of the Wu‑Tang Clan’s most celebrated solo projects exists and how it might sound. So how did we get here?

His magnum opus, Supreme Clientele, emerged from recording sessions in New York and Miami in the late 1990s and showcased his stream‑of‑consciousness rhyme style over production that hewed to the Wu‑Tang aesthetic. RZA, always the group’s sonic architect, re‑worked beats from a long list of contributors to ensure the record felt cohesive. The album balanced melodic hooks with unpredictable structures; songs shifted from grimy soul loops to martial‑arts snippets, while Ghostface barked slang and vivid imagery. His flow on songs like “Mighty Healthy” moved from vivid storytelling into seemingly free‑associative bars, giving the record a sense of breathless momentum. That song was one of several singles; the others were “Apollo Kids” and “Cherchez LaGhost,” but the album’s staying power derived from its overall mood: urgent, slightly unhinged, and endlessly quotable. Guest appearances from Cappadonna, GZA, Masta Killa, Method Man, Raekwon, Redman, and others provided tonal variety without diluting Ghostface’s vision.

For more than a decade, rumors circulated about a follow‑up. Ghostface occasionally mentioned Supreme Clientele 2 in interviews, but the project remained elusive as he released other albums (disappointing ones at that), including the 2019 collection Ghostface Killahs and 2024’s Set the Tone (Guns & Roses). This year, he joined Nas’ Mass Appeal label for the Legend Has It campaign, a program built around seven albums from iconic MCs. Journalist Chad Kiser described this campaign as a “monumental Legend Has It initiative” featuring new releases from Slick Rick, Raekwon, Ghostdini (more on that shortly), Mobb Deep, Big L, De La Soul, and a collaboration between Nas and DJ Premier. The campaign contextualizes Supreme Clientele 2 as part of a broader attempt to celebrate veteran rappers on their terms rather than as nostalgia acts.

The long gestation period informs both the mythology and potential structure of the sequel. Mass Appeal’s announcement emphasized that Ghostface and producer Scram Jones “dug in the files from years ago” to assemble the sequel. This approach implies that the sequel will not simply update the sonic template of the original; rather, it may recontextualize older verses and beats within present‑day arrangements. In an era where many artists discard unreleased material, Ghostface’s willingness to repurpose ideas from as far back as the mid‑2000s underscores his belief that the stream‑of‑consciousness style he pioneered is timeless. It also raises questions about cohesion. Will songs recorded across different eras cohere as an album, or will the record function more like a collage of Ghostface’s evolving moods?

Redman sets the tone before Ghost unleashes on “Ironman,” where he uses his signature slang and cultural references that give his lyrics a sense of authenticity rooted in his environment. The wordplay is sharp over a Chedda Bang beat that leans heavily into a soulful sample that creates a warm yet rugged atmosphere, with lines that can be interpreted on multiple levels. For example, he might reference luxury items or martial arts films to compare the harshness of street life with moments of elegance or fantasy. On "4th Disciple," Ghost delivers a deeply emotional narrative, blending vivid street imagery with personal loss. The track’s metaphors are layered with grief and reflection. When Ghostface says, “He looked disconnected from life like a VCR,” he’s using an outdated piece of technology to emphasize how lifeless his friend appears, evoking a sense of being stuck in time or cut off from the present. Vintage storytelling is all over SC2, especially when he takes over the Toto classic, where his bars are packed with references to both street life and cultural symbols, giving each line multiple layers of meaning.

His wordplay continues with references to pop culture and history on the Scram Jones-produced “Windows.” The imagery is sharp and direct, evoking both violence and confinement. Over a lush and soulful sample, built around warm instrumentation that feels almost meditative, “The Zoom” is smooth and reflective as Ghost’s wordplay, again, often mixes material objects—like jewelry or designer clothes—with emotional states, creating a narrative where external luxury mirrors internal reflection. “Rap Kingpin” immediately positions itself within Ghostface’s wheelhouse by flipping Eric B. & Rakim’s “My Melody” and “Mighty Healthy,” the latter being one of the signature songs from the original SC album. In the first verse, Ghostface piles metaphors on top of observations about hustling and swagger, delivering bars with the same nasal urgency he employed twenty‑five years ago. The beat’s combination of crisp drums, chopped horns, and an unmistakable sample from “My Melody” gives the song both familiarity and momentum. The connection to “Mighty Healthy” suggests a deliberate attempt to tie the new album to the old one at the level of sonic DNA.

Thematically, the first Supreme Clientele balanced paranoia and vulnerability with humor and defiance. Ghostface’s high‑pitched delivery sometimes masked introspective moments, such as confessions about depression and family strife. It also contained skits that painted portraits of urban life, including the return of characters like Tony Stark and narratives about hustlers and addicts. The sequel explores similar territory but with the perspective of an artist in his fifties, with the help of well-placed features and no trend-hopping beats like his previous project from last year. Nas, once again, hops on another Mass Appeal project with “Love Me Anymore,” centering around betrayal and the emotional weight of street loyalty. Ghostface uses straightforward language but packs it with emotion, making his words feel raw and direct, and Nas follows up with reflective lyricism that leans into broader themes of survival and self-awareness, where the focus is on how life changes over time: “Life froze on me, every other day I have a woe moment.”

M.O.P. shows up on the soulful yet raw “Sample 420,” and two posse cuts on the crazy “Soul Thang,” where all MCs showcase great chemistry with each other. “The Trial” is a conceptual track that it’s self-explanatory (and kind of reminiscent of how Sticky Fingaz did with “State vs. Kirk Jones); however, it’s nice to hear from GZA again as he’s still sound sharp as ever, but that’s not to take away on how Ghost, Rae, Meth, and others delivered. On “Curtis May,” Ghostface’s style here is rich in double entendres—when he mentions wearing jewelry after intimacy, it’s not just about wealth but also about power dynamics. Styles P follows up with a more introspective yet equally gritty approach. His bars carry an understated menace; when he talks about mob ties and codes, it’s not just bravado but a reflection of lived experience. Conway closes the track with his signature raw delivery. When he spits, “I’m not a star, I’m just a guy that always takes it too far,” he uses self-deprecating humor to highlight his relentless nature.

Let’s get this out of the way: NO, IT’S NOT ON PAR WITH THE ORIGINAL SUPREME CLIENTELE. But clearly, it’s not the goal. By building on a quarter‑century‑old classic without simply remaking it, Ghostface signals confidence in his voice and the enduring appeal of narrative‑driven rap. Rather than leaning on nostalgia or critical consensus, Ghostface appears intent on letting the music speak. The samples are familiar, but Ghostface’s cadences and references are specific to him, and the presence of new collaborators ensures variation. Whether you think Supreme Clientele 2 matches the mystique of its predecessor, its very existence affirms the value of craft honed over decades. Ghostface’s willingness to reach back into his archives, involve peers and proteges, and release the work under a banner dedicated to legends demonstrates an artist aware of his legacy and unafraid to expand it. When he raps that he’s a “rap kingpin” and flips the beat from a song he made twenty‑five years ago, he is reminding us that hip‑hop’s capacity for reinvention lies in its memories as much as in its innovations.

Supreme Clientele 2 thus stands not only as a sequel but as a meditation on memory, craft, and longevity.

Great (★★★★☆)

Favorite Track(s): “Ironman,” “The Trial,” “Love Me Anymore,” “Metaphysics,” “The Zoom”

[Eddz]

Haven't listened to it yet but the album cover is ass 

[The Predator]

Ghostface Killah – Supreme Clientele 2

A fun sequel that acts as a love letter to East Coast hip-hop...

(Clash)

22 · 08 · 2025

When Mass Appeal promised legends, they weren’t exaggerating. The label’s Legend Has It… series is a summer-long, seven-strong release slate, boasting epic contributions from some of the biggest names hip-hop has ever produced. To fans, ‘Supreme Clientele’ is one of the real jewels of the Wu-Tang universe, and perhaps Ghostface Killah’s most-storied solo moment. Well, Mass Appeal just bagged the sequel.

In many ways, ‘Supreme Clientele 2’ feels like a record out of time – but that’s its charm. 22 songs – which includes multiple skits – some of the sonics drift back to the original 2000 instalment, giving aspects of those a curiously out-of-time feel. Not everyone on here lands, but when ‘Supreme Clientele 2’ clicks into place it’s a fine love letter to East Coast hip-hop and the communities that bore it.

So, the highlights. ‘Iron Man’ is an early crusher, with the woozy soul aspects – complete with piano – on ‘Sample 420’ tapping into a signature Wu sound. ‘Curtis May’ though feels like a step forwards – maybe it’s the guest bars from Conway the Machine, but its rendered in a vital, very modern way.

‘Windows’ is a straight-forward – hugely effective – club track, the rattling breaks underpinning one of Ghostface Killah’s most impactful performances in a decade. ‘Break Beats’ is pure early 90s hip-hop, an affectionate nod to the time – and sound – that propelled Ghostface Killah into public consciousness.



The excellent meditative head-nodder ‘Love Me Anymore’ couples Ghostface Killah with Nas, the latter’s poetics riffing perfectly with the host’s gruff voice. Perhaps the absolute peak of the record as a whole, however, is Wu-Tang posse cut ‘The Trial’ – boasting Driz, Ice, and Reek D, it’s a pan-generational celebration of outsider voices, put on metaphorical trail in the lyrics.

With 22 tracks it’s self-evident that not everything lands – skits have always been a subject of debate to rap fans, and while some of the miniatures on ‘Supreme Clientele 2’ are fun, there’s a tad too many. Additionally, some of the material here was completed in the 00s and then shelves – while the extra production work is effective, a few songs wind up sounding dated.

But perhaps that’s churlish. This is Mass Appeal, this is Ghostface Killah, and this is the long – long – overdue follow-up to ‘Supreme Clientele 2’. In a summer of major league rap returns – Clipse, Freddie Gibbs, Tyler the Creator, Earl Sweatshirt – Ghostface is back to remind us all that there is truly only one Killah.

7/10

[The Predator]

Ghostface Killah – Supreme Clientele 2 | Review



Ghostface Killah’s reputation as one of the most consistent and imaginative MCs in Hip Hop was cemented decades ago, with his classic solo debut Ironman in 1996 and the masterpiece Supreme Clientele in 2000. Across other standout efforts like Fishscale (2006) and Twelve Reasons to Die (2013), and countless guest appearances, he has built a catalog more respected than perhaps any other Wu-Tang member. Since the underappreciated 36 Seasons in 2014, Ghostface’s output has slowed, and the few projects he’s released since then on the way to 2025 have lacked the spark and consistency that once defined his work. His most recent project, the limp Set the Tone (Guns & Roses) in 2024, came and went without much fanfare, leaving longtime listeners worried that Ghostface might have drifted too far from the inspired energy that made his voice essential. That’s why the release of Supreme Clientele 2—a direct callback to one of his most celebrated albums—feels like a deliberate attempt not just to return, but to remind the culture why his name still holds weight.

The first impression is that Ghostface went for density. Twenty-two tracks spill across 48 minutes, meaning most songs are short, fast bursts rather than fully fleshed-out structures. Some run barely two minutes, hitting with impact but cutting out before their momentum fully develops. This gives the album a mixtape-like feel, a patchwork of episodes rather than one continuous arc. Skits like “Pause,” “Sale of the Century,” and “Knuckles” don’t add anything but flow-breaking annoyance, stalling the pace—but when Ghostface hits a streak, the energy becomes undeniable.

The opening run sets the tone sharply. Redman voices the intro, and then Ghost launches into “Ironman,” an immediate callback to his debut persona. The beat clangs with steel-drum aggression and soulful loops, a perfect canvas for him to let loose his scattershot slang. He hasn’t lost the ability to make words tumble together into a rhythm that sounds both chaotic and meticulously controlled. The follow-up, “Sample 420,” brings in M.O.P. and a beat that smolders with funky haze. It feels like pure cypher energy—aggressive, unrelenting, both artists pushing each other toward sharper edges. That continues on “Curtis May,” where Styles P and Conway the Machine join him. Conway is all teeth, Styles delivers with icy confidence, and Ghost sits comfortably between them, his flow measured yet still unpredictable. These opening tracks are where the album feels strongest, where the urgency of Ghostface’s voice rides the beat with the same force it had two decades ago.

What follows is a set of songs that balance nostalgia with modern textures. “Windows” is built like a throwback club banger, rattling percussion driving the rhythm forward while Ghostface cuts in with verses that feel designed for sweat-drenched movement. But the album’s most exhilarating stretch is a three-song sequence in the middle: “Break Beats,” “Beat Box,” and “Rap Kingpin.” “Break Beats” is essentially Ghostface time-traveling, built from the bones of an ’80s block-party jam, all vinyl crackle and drum breaks. He rides the groove like he’s back in the cipher, flexing without overcomplication. “Beat Box” adds Ty Boogie and Aisha Hall into the mix, keeping the old-school bounce alive but sharpening it with lyricism that keeps the track from being pure homage. Then comes “Rap Kingpin,” one of the record’s clear highlights, where Ghostface blends Eric B. & Rakim’s “My Melody” with echoes of his own “Mighty Healthy.” The result is both a history lesson and a power move, positioning himself as a bridge between eras. These three songs work like a statement of purpose: Ghostface tapping into the DNA of Hip Hop’s Golden Age without sounding stuck in the past.

Ghostface Killah -

The album is not only about braggadocio and homage. Ghostface continues to prove his gift for cinematic detail and raw emotion. On “4th Disciple,” he paints a scene dripping with despair and violence, his voice carrying the weight of tragedy. The narrative is vivid, almost theatrical, a reminder that his storytelling ability remains sharp. “The Trial” pushes that theatricality even further. Built like a courtroom drama, it features Raekwon, GZA, Method Man, Reek da Villian, and Pills, each taking roles as if they’re testifying or cross-examining. It plays like a short rap play rather than a song, complete with character arcs and dramatic pacing. These moments are where the album takes creative risks, and while they might not please listeners looking for straightforward head-nodders, they add dimension to the record as a whole.

“Love Me Anymore” is another peak, pairing Ghostface with Nas. The chemistry is natural: Ghostface terse and sharp, Nas more reflective, his voice full of weary wisdom. Together, they sketch a dialogue about loyalty, betrayal, and survival, and the track feels like one of the few where the brevity of the album’s cuts works to its advantage—both men get their bars in and leave the listener wanting more. Tracks like “Metaphysics” and “The Zoom” show a softer side, Ghostface rapping over soulful samples with a looseness that lets him drift into cultural nostalgia and personal reflection. Lines about lounging by a pool reading, show how comfortable he is weaving the mundane and the profound into the same breath.

Part of what gives the album its uneven texture is how it was assembled. Rather than a single burst of studio sessions, Ghostface pieced this project together from vault recordings, fresh verses, and new production designed to frame the older material. As a result, it sometimes feels less like a cohesive album and more like a highlight reel, moments stitched together from different times and moods. Some songs stand out with sharp focus, while others fade quickly, undercooked or unfinished. This collage-like quality makes the record harder to judge by the same standard as Supreme Clientele, which was carefully sequenced and carried a single mood. Here, the mood shifts constantly, which can feel refreshing but also disjointed.

Still, the strength of Ghostface lies in the slices. He has always thrived on piling images and phrases until they create an atmosphere, even if the structure beneath them is loose. On Supreme Clientele 2, the best moments work exactly that way—bursts of grit, humor, and surreal slang that don’t require polish to hit hard. It’s in these flashes that you remember why Ghostface has remained an icon long after most of his peers faded from relevance.

The legacy weight of naming this project Supreme Clientele 2 can’t be ignored. The original album was lightning in a bottle, defined by its moment in time as much as its sound. Ghostface himself has said that it could never truly be duplicated, only revisited in spirit. That perspective seems crucial here. This album isn’t trying to re-create the original’s atmosphere or narrative cohesion. Instead, it offers a new chapter, a set of fragments and scenes that echo the qualities that made Ghostface so magnetic: unpredictability, raw detail, and relentless energy. It doesn’t carry the same timeless arc, but it shows that his instincts remain intact.

As a whole, Supreme Clientele 2 is uneven but rewarding. The short tracks and scattered feel keep it from achieving the cohesion of his greatest work. The skits are a misstep, and several cuts end before they fully blossom. Yet when the album clicks—on “Ironman,” “Sample 420,” “Curtis May,” “Windows,” the Golden Age triptych “Break Beats,” “Beat Box,” and “Rap Kingpin”, and cuts like “The Trial,” and “Love Me Anymore”—it hits with the force of classic Ghostface. It reminds listeners that no one else in Hip Hop has quite his combination of surreal slang, storytelling, and guttural emotion. For longtime fans, it’s a reassuring return after years of uncertainty. For newer listeners, it offers flashes of what made Ghostface one of the most singular MCs to ever touch a mic.

It may not be a classic, but it doesn’t need to be. What it proves is that Ghostface still has enough fire in his pen and enough character in his voice to matter. Supreme Clientele 2 is less an album than a collage, a reminder that even fragments from Ghostface’s world are worth hearing. It will never replace the original in the pantheon, but it doesn’t have to—its value lies in the fact that Ghostface still sounds hungry, still sounds alive, and still sounds like himself.

8/10

[The Predator]

Ghostface Killah – Supreme Clientele 2 (Mass Appeal)

The Wu-Tang Clan member’s mostly widely-loved solo album gets treated to a sequel, 25 years after the original.



(Brooklyn Vegan)

Ghostface Killah remains prolific–just last year, he released the new album Set The Tone (Guns & Roses) to little fanfare and mixed reviews–but there’s a lot more riding on his new album Supreme Clientele 2, because it’s the sequel to the extremely classic album that he released 25 years ago.

The original is widely considered Ghostface’s best solo album, one of the best Wu-Tang Clan-related albums, and just one of the best rap albums ever in general.

So, needless to say, people are gonna be listening to a sequel.
And on top of that, the album gets another boost because Nas’ Mass Appeal label is releasing as part of its Legend Has It series, which already includes the surprisingly good Slick Rick album and the reliably good new Raekwon album, as well as upcoming albums from De La Soul, Mobb Deep, Big L, and Nas & DJ Premier.

There’s strength in numbers, and the Legend Has It campaign is putting a lot of eyes and ears on classic ’90s New York rap right now. And when that leads to clicking play on Supreme Clientele 2, you’re treated to a hard-nosed New York rap album that reminds you Ghostface can still rap his ass off.

The beats sound like throwbacks to the original Supreme Clientele style, most of the guest verses come from other venomous vets (fellow Wu-Tang Clan members Method Man, Raekwon, and GZA; Nas; M.O.P.; Styles P; as well as a standout verse from newer likeminded torch-carrier Conway the Machine), and the album is peppered with Dave Chappelle skits that sound straight out of the CD era.

It’s also a very CD-era rap album in that it would probably be tighter with less than its 22 songs, but minor gripes aside, there’s no denying that those looking for a Supreme Clientele nostalgia trip will get it here. Ghostface’s pure athleticism as a rapper is enough to carry this album on its own.

[The Predator]

Ghostface Killah Hints Wu Tang's Farewell Tour Might Not Be Last + Supreme Clientele 2 Out NOW!

[The Predator]

Ghostface Killah On His New Album "Supreme Clientele 2", Breaking Down His Classic Songs + More!

[The Predator]

Ghostface Killah Talks ‘Supreme Clientele 2’ & Rapping About Medicaid When He’s 80

The legendary rapper just released one of the best albums of his late career. Check out our conversation.

   

billboard

Sequels to classic albums almost always fall short of their predecessor, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when Ghost announced that he was planning on revisiting Supreme Clientele, the best album in his extensive catalog and one of the best rap albums in the history of the genre. And while part two doesn’t reach the heights that the first one did, Supreme Clientele 2 exceeded my expectations and serves as a solid spiritual companion to a project that I personally hold in high regard.

The production is the star of the show for me. Each beat sounds crisp and they knock on proper speakers, especially after listening to the private link the label sent me last week. I don’t want to downplay how good Starks is rapping on this, though. The 55-year-old MC’s darts, storytelling and humor are still as sharp as ever.

There’s “4th Disciple,” a return the chamber he entered in his memorable verse at the end of Wu-Tang Forever’s “Impossible,” where he raps about watching a close friend fighting for his life after being shot. Then, on a lighter note you have a track like “Georgy Porgy,” where he’s rapping over a sample of Toto’s similarly named hit — reminiscent of The Pretty Toney Album’s “Holla,” where he goes in over “La-La Means I Love You” by The Delfonics.

And I can’t forget the skits, which have become a lost art, where Ghost makes fun of the “pause” game, has Dave Chappelle playing a gameshow host, and has the legendary host of WBLS’ The Quiet Storm with Lenny Green introducing “The Zoom,” where Tone enters his Wizard of Poetry chamber.

Ghost pulled up to New York’s Billboard office earlier this week to sit down for a conversation on his decision to put this project together, the current state of the game, and having no qualms about still rapping and performing when he’s old and gray.

Check out our interview below.

So, for Supreme Clientele 2, what made you want to tap back into that chamber? Because you’ve explained this a bunch — that you wanted to rap some fly s—t, didn’t matter if it made sense.

See, people get it twisted. That was like on two songs, “Nutmeg” and “One.”

That’s true. They opened the album.

Yeah, that was the different styles. I was in Africa one day, I didn’t have no music, and I’m in the village where all the poor people is at. No hotel, no nothing. You gotta s—t and piss outside, do everything, bathe outside, all that s—t like that. So, you know, I’m just out there, just just walking around, and it’s just grass and dirt and looking up at the sky and s—t like, you know, let me make up a style real quick. I had a beat playing in my head and I just [went], “Scientific, my hand kiss it” — all that started coming, because I was like, “Yo, let me just write a rhyme where I just play with words.” That’s really what it was, and people just took it serious.

My raps is like ziti.

Hip-hop is everything, yo, you can do whatever you want to do with with rap. It don’t just got to be the way you just say it is. Like I told those people, this s—t is like paint, man. It’s like art.

I was gonna ask you about that quote because it’s always getting shared, especially when Tumblr was poppin.’ You said, “I don’t give a f—k if you don’t know what I’m talking about – this is art. When you go see a painting on the wall and it looks bugged out because you don’t know what the f—k he thinking, because he ain’t got no benches, no trees there, it’s just a splash. The n—a that did it know what the f—k it is.” You describe it like a Jackson Pollock painting where it’s just splashes on the canvas.

That’s it. Like, a Martian could’ve came down here talking s—t or rapping over a beat. You don’t understand what the hell he’s saying, but the s—t sounds crazy. You like, “Oh s—t, but you don’t understand what the hell the n—a said.

It’s like listening to French jazz. I don’t know what the f—k they’re saying, but it sounds great.

That s—t sounds crazy. That’s where I was at with it at that time like that. That’s why I did I laid it down on some abstract s—t.

Did you always plan on making a Supreme Clientele sequel? Because you’ve said that you were stashing songs away for a while.

People were calling for it, so if I had something around that felt like it, I would save it. So, when that time presented itself, you start looking in the computer to see what you got. You pick certain sounds and verses that might feel right. You’re just trying to figure it out and catch that vibe, put a theme behind it.

What were some of the tracks that you recorded recently?

The first song on the album, “Iron Man,” The M.O.P. joint, the one with Styles P and Conway, the break beat joints are like three or four years old, and “Windows” is the probably the newest one. I recorded that real quick in the the fourth quarter. We needed something that was a little more up-tempo.

Did you feel any pressure at all? Because you’ve talked about how Ironman isn’t necessarily one of your favorites, even though it’s considered a classic.

It’s a classic, but it was a it was a classic at one of my lowest points. My head wasn’t right. You see how Supreme came back after that.

I was young and in high school when it came out, so correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember the first Supreme Clientele being under the radar when it first dropped. Is that fair to say?

Yeah, when it first dropped it was a little under the radar because Nas was on fire and somebody else had came out. Leaving off of Cuban Linx, I was going crazy. I could’ve followed up behind that, but a lot of things was going on. My headpace wasn’t right, my best friend getting locked up, diabetes, s—t was just dark for a n—a. It was just one of those winters, man.

Like everything happening at once back-to-back.

It was one of the hardest points in your life where you really couldn’t figure it out, you just living in it. That’s why the beats were kind of dark and verbally I wasn’t there. And on top of that, I only got two months to finish it, I didn’t have six months.

Because you were dealing with the label and had a deadline?

Yeah, RZA presented me a contract like, “Yo, what’s up? You want to, you know, this, that,and the third,” and it’s like this is my first go-around, so I’m like, “Yeah.” I took the contract thinking I can get it done. Who’s gonna turn down $5-$600,000 at that time? And, you know, I probably could’ve got more if I would’ve known. But you know what? It was new to me, and I tried to do it in two months, or whatever that was it, bro. That’s why I don’t do deadlines.

The business has changed so much since then. How have you been able to adapt?

You understand it more now and you know what you want. Back then, you gotta take what somebody gave you, you know what I mean? You had a voice, but you didn’t know how to use it, so I think now is way better.

Has your writing process changed from when you were younger?

Yeah, I was smoking weed back then, drinking 40s and all that other s—t during the Cuban Linx era. I don’t smoke no weed at all, and I drink occasionally. We doing rhymes and darts sober. I ain’t gonna front, though, when you had the weed, it’ll open up a little closed door — and that was the only thing I used to maybe deal with when I stopped smoking because after a while it just had me questioning myself.

The weed is stronger now too. It’s easier to get anxiety and paranoid. I gotta turn the joint off when I feel it start to creep in.

What? Paranoid? Pretty Toney was crazy. I stopped during The Pretty Toney Album. I ain’t do it no more.

You mentioned on Bootleg Kev that the mythical project you have with MF DOOM is ready. Did you guys play around with you being Tony Stark Iron Man, and he’s Doctor Doom with the samples, or just with the raps or whatever.

[Laughs.] Nah, we never really went that far with it. We was on a plane one day and he was like – DOOM was funny, though, because he’s sitting next to me but he likes to whisper a lot – he was like, “Yo, I ain’t gonna front, I got my s—t from you, I got my style from you.” I don’t know if he was talking about just the mask or being abstract with the words, or whatever the case may be. And I came up with a thing like, “DOOM, check this out. We should just do like two for fives and go ahead and just let these s—ts out, like we do five packs.” He was all with it and everything.

Whenever I met him, it was like a movie. I pulled up on him one day in London. I see him in front of a hotel that I pulled up to. He was facing the hotel and I’m in the car on the street, and I cracked the window down a little bit, and screamed out, “Yo, DOOM.” He’s looking around and he was like, “How you know it was me?” What you mean how I know it was you? I’m looking at you. DOOM was just DOOM, man. He was always on the move, moving fast. You could never really just get him to sit down, down. Like, how we sitting down right now. He was always walking around sweating bullets drinking his 40.

He was one of those brothers. He was a smart, intelligent brother, very wise. He had knowledge of self. That’s what we were able to identify with, because we could build with each other. We been tackled the music and he held on to it. Everybody would ask me, and it’s like, DOOM has everything.

Then time went by, and where I recorded it at was at my man Ant’s studio — and I know the difference from Ant’s studio to what I’ve been doing now, so all I wanted to do was do the same verses over again to make them clearer on another system. Make them sound like right now. Because even back then, the mics to me were kinda like… and the flows could’ve been a little bit better and s—t like that. Because that’s an important joint, even though people be like, “Oh no, I like when it sounds old and sh—t,” like that or whatever. But it was like, “Nah. Clean this sh—t up and that’s that.” But we never got a chance to do it, man. I woke up one morning and I heard the news.

So, if the family or the estate decided to put it out, you would be fine with it?

I would have to… listen, if you want me to be a part of it. They can do what they wanna do, I can’t stop it because I don’t got it. I still got some of the verses in the computer, so I can remix whatever the f—k I want if you wanna play me like that.

It was funny when you told Big Boy that you decided to take the mask off because it was uncomfortable. You wouldn’t put a new mask on? You haven’t found one?

I would but I wouldn’t wear it every day. I’ll just put it on maybe before the show or something like that.

The Wu put people onto a lot of movies like John Woo’s The Killer and kung fu flicks. What are you watching these days? Any new s—t that inspires you?

Once in the blue. I might go to YouTube and catch a flick, no. I watch a lot of sports, but with movies it depends if somebody tells me to check something out. Other than that, I just be f—king with police channels, First 48, true crime. TV One has this show called Fatal Attraction, I watch For My Man. Martin and The Jamie Foxx Show. My No. 1 go-to are blaxploitation films like The Mack and Super Fly. I might catch Scarface, but that’s like four hours long. You fall asleep and wake back up. they still gunning.

There’s some funny skits on the album. The Wu always have good skits. Why are they important?

You gotta have a skit or two. I grew up on De La Soul. They the ones that really got me onto skits.

What happened to Woodrow the Basehead? Is he alive, did he OD?

See, we had humor and everything was colorful. trying to reduplicate something that you did to a T, it’s like you can’t make the same baby you just had. You got a child, you gotta let the second one be the second one. The game is so twisted right now. I spent my lot of money on samples, but you gotta really get those TV skits like you said.

How did that “Purple Hearts” joint come together on Kendrick’s album Mr. Morale? You went into your Wizard of Poetry chamber.

That’s my favorite chamber. He reached out and then we got on the phone, and he told me what he wanted like, “Yo, do this style like how you be doing this and doing that.” So, I wrote two verses for him so he could pick one.

There’s an ode to the “Domestic Violence” track on RZA’s Bobby Digital album on there, I don’t know if you had noticed. The track “We Cry Together” with the actress Taylour Paige where they’re arguing with each other. You can hear the “do, do, do” digital tag and everything. The Alchemist produced it. I found that interesting because he also reached out to you, he must be tapped in.

Oh word? Wow. Yo, he’s a wizard, man. He’s a real wizard of poetry. He’s smart. I could just tell by the way he does his thing, how he calculate, and he’s talented on top of that.

What’s the biggest difference you see today compared to when you guys were doing your thing? You gave Big Boy a great quote about 1993 when you said there was a certain feeling in the air when it came to rap music and just hip-hop in general.

I was surrounded by people that made me wanna go write. Mobb Deep, Biggie and Nas made me wanna go write. My brothers, the same thing. I hear The Genius and it’s like, “Oh, my God.” you know, That’s the difference. These n—as now don’t make you want to raise no pen. You just doing it because you got an obligation you got to fulfill or because you love it. Back in the days, it was just more vintage, man, more iller. We really had to be in the studio. It wasn’t like now where you’re sending verses.

It was more of a collaborative team experience.

That’s why older rappers got stories. The Internet helped in some ways but also f—ked our s—t up. Yo, you got corny n—as gettin’ on, man. It’s like, “Yo, you not even like that.” You remember back in the days, you had to go get in that cypher. You had to go get in there with ODB and these n—as and shoot your s—t. If you came with anything that these n—as is coming with now, you wouldn’t want to get in there, you would know in your heart, like, “I can’t get in there with these guys.” Know what I mean? ‘Cause you gonna feel it. You gonna know that you’re a joke because you’ll get smoked.

That would force you to go home and write. Now you can get ahead and be over there and throw any kind of darts you want as long as you got a funny line in there or a funny video, f—k around and go viral, man. We didn’t have to go viral. Your darts is what did it. We don’t need no gimmicks, we need no Internet and all that other sucker s—t.

You had to go to Stretch & Bobbito and tear it down.

Had to go there. We were the last. I was thinking about that the other day. We was the last of that, man. Arsenio, The Keenan Ivory Wayans Show, we had videos on Video Music Box. These n—as never touched Rap City: Tha Basement. That’s how it was. If you had on a million dollars in jewelry, you had to have a name. You couldn’t come around here with none of that sh—t on, and we had on baggy jeans. These little n—as walking around with all that sh—t on popping sh—t, and you never been pressed. We from that era. It’s even more like wrestling right now, it’s WW, f—king E, man.

People always rap is like wrestling but it was a little less like that back then.

Because n—as still get busy. Now you can’t even touch a n—a, but you can have this unknown cat from f—king Russia, talking fly, talking big s—t all in the comments. I don’t like that s—t. Then you go to his page and there’s no posts, no nothing.

Yeah, man, you gotta be careful. All they’re doing is trying to get you to argue. Rage bait.

I can’t do that s—t, man. I can do with the ‘Gram. I could do without all that sh—t, man. Then the game started beating you even more with all that streaming sh—t. You don’t get no sales. Who the f—k thought of that? The slave masters. The n—as that’s out there that run everything. You see how we sitting around the table like this? That’s how they came up with this f—king stream of sh—t. We gonna give you $4,000 off of every f—king million streams. S—t is slavery and it was slavery before.

How would you make your money if you were coming up in this era?

You gotta do a bunch of s—t. A deal is a deal, man, you know? I figured that out a long time ago. You really can’t really get mad at a deal, because you shook hands on it. I’m just looking at the system. The system is crazy. Snoop did a billion streams and he got a check for like $40,000. N—a did a billion! You know what a billion is, man?

And $40,000 today isn’t really that much.

What you gonna do with $40 Gs? Somebody else is getting all that money, though. We f—k around and build the system ourself, they gonna start trying to bump us off. This is America, man.

You guys just did a farewell tour and you’ve voiced your feelings about RZA wanting to call it that while also bringing up acts like The Rolling Stones. What is it about touring that you enjoy so much?

I love it. We love it. You get a chance to be around your brothers, man, and you like to perform your music and see how it’s gonna come across to the people.

You’ll be like 80 performing Supreme Clientele like Frank Sinatra.

That’s the best part. On the stage with a cane or sitting down. All that s—t, man. Fall asleep, all that. Listen. I tell n—as, this ain’t boxing, this ain’t football, this ain’t golf, this is just rap. You just use your vocals, bro. That’s it. Be on stage with a cane on some Ron Isley sh—t. Be up there with furs, everybody got canes, swagged out.

I’m gonna probably still listen to Supreme Clientele when I’m 80.

I might make a new Supreme Clientele at 80.

Finish the trilogy.

I’m going in with 75-year-old darts.

Rap about some nursing home p—y that you got.

Exactly, tell her to take her dentures out. Straight gums. Gummy bear top. You can go anywhere with rap, I’m tryna tell you. You gotta tell your peers the truth. Medicaid ain’t doing it, whatever it is. Social Security, where my check, n—a? You gotta be coming with bars like that. Where my check at? That’ll be the hook.

Do you consider Wu-Tang to be the greatest group in rap history? Do you care about that?

I mean, I don’t really care about it, but I know we are, no disrespect to the greats. It’s the way we came in and we had our solo albums doing damage, RZA made it that we didn’t get locked into one deal, we still here over 30 years in the game, and still selling out arenas. The W is like Coca-Cola. We’re like The Rolling Stones. How that go? We were young guys from Staten Island.

https://www.billboard.com/music/rb-hip-hop/ghostface-killah-supreme-clientele-2-rapping-1236049737/

[The Predator]

[The Predator]

‘Supreme Clientele 2’ is Ghostface’s timeless statement

Supreme Clientele 2 proves Ghostface is still a master, delivering cinematic tales, gritty beats, and a true New York essence

(Rollout)

Rap in 2025 is flourishing

Ever since that dust-up between two of the Big 3, it feels like rap has reset itself. Creativity and making cohesive albums matter again. Fans demand more, and artists want to be true artists, and it is great to see. The latest release that demonstrates this is the most recent drop from Nas’s Mass Appeal: Ghostface’s Supreme Clientele 2. In other words: NEW GHOSTFACE!

In short, that New York sound everybody has been looking for lives on this album. Staten Island native Ghostface approaches this project with impeccable flow and gritty stories that intrigue both the day ones and the newest fans. Ghost laces every beat with sharp darts. His rapping is akin to splattering paint on a canvas and creating a masterpiece. Every verse is vibrant, and the canvas comes alive.

Ghostface’s Storytelling at Full Strength

Ghost has been known to deliver some nonsensical bars, he even admits it, while fans have tried their best to decipher his meaning. That does not happen on Supreme Clientele 2. Every song has a well-crafted vision, and every feature makes sense. The album opens with Redman announcing the return of Ghostface and his many monikers, then jumps right into “Iron Man.” Ghost immediately launches into the wildest story, what sounds like a bank robbery gone wrong, and it is pure chaos, as only Ghost can do:

“The stamp on the door was Ronald Reagan with fronts
My man ran over his legs, all we heard was the crunch
Chase Bank, nobody move, just finish your lunch
Damn, I got brain matter all over my Dunks”

This is why I listen to Ghost, for these tales of unbelievable heists and drug deals. Every song is like watching a movie. His cast includes Redman, M.O.P., Styles P, Conway the Machine, Ty Boogie, Aisha Hall, Raekwon, GZA, Method Man, Reek Da Villain, PILLS, Nas, Driz, Nems, ICE, Supreme-Intelligence, and Sun God.

Production That Honors the Past

If your intention is to hear this album for the newest trap beat or some futuristic production leveraged by the latest AI technology, you are in the wrong place. This is golden age New York, gritty, flashy, and full of bars. The “Pause (Skit)” is hilarious and addresses the generational gap in the funniest way. “The Trial” is the closest we get to a Wu-Tang reunion for now. Ghostface and Raekwon trade verses and deliver a cinematic masterpiece in the middle of a courtroom. Concepts always win, and Ghost delivers them here.

Nas and Ghostface follow “The Trial” with “Love Me Anymore,” which samples the Rose Royce classic “Love Don’t Live Here Anymore.” While a few producers appear on the album, D. Coles carries most of the weight and keeps things fresh throughout.

Supreme Clientele 2 does not chase the shadow of its predecessor but reclaims New York’s essence and proves the vibe never left.

Standout Tracks

    Iron Man

    Sample 420

    Curtis May

    Pause (Skit)

    Rap Kingpin

    The Trial

    Love Me Anymore

    Metaphysics

    The Zoom

    You Ma Friend

Rating: 8/10