Her voice is light and gauzy, sometimes a little wispy but always clear and authoritative lyrically she’s clever but restrained, delivering deadpan jabs in a half-smirk ('Diamonds dancing like Omarion in You Got Served'). This isn’t to say that her more traditional songs are lacking: she can rap, as immediately evident in no-hook, no-nonsense opener 'Bird Call'. Sell Sole represents a transitional stage for Dej, documenting the full gradient of her shift from straightforward raps to hustler’s nursery rhymes. When some hometown detractors ask, early in the tape, why she insists on stunting on them so hard, her response is pragmatic: “I don’t know.” As her songs have grown weirder, her lyrics have kept that idiosyncratic bluntness and a repulsion for theatrics. But though Sell Sole, her first release in the spotlight, is devoid of the literal college dropout jams of her debut, that sense of confessional non-fiction lingers. Stylistically, that stuff couldn’t be further from 'Try Me', Dej’s sweet-and-sour breakaway hit that gently threatens to turn enemies into a variety of Italian delicacies-a track that garnered the attention of Drake and secured her a deal with Columbia Records. Part of that comes from her not-so-distant backpacker past: Just Do It, her self-released 2012 solo debut, was full of Midwestern earnestness and diaristic boom-bap somewhere between Slum Village and popped-Polo Kanye. The 23-year-old Detroit native, named for her high school footwear preference, is matter-of-fact to the point where you can’t help but to trust her completely. Dej Loaf is not in the habit of writing checks she can’t cash.

Dej loaf try me remy