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Have you heard Lil Wayne recently?

Just kidding. That’s a stupid question because he’s everywhere. The week Tha Carter IV came out, 12 songs on the Billboard Hot 100 featured Weezy, which was a new record. If you ever need to get your pop track on the Hot 100, get a guest verse from Tunechi and a hook from Bruno Mars (if I haven’t yet stabbed him in his g*****n esophagus) and you’re all set.

So let me rephrase: have you listened to Lil Wayne recently?

It’s not that he’s bad. The phrase “rap game” is a good one, because it makes rap sound kinda like basketball, which it kinda is: quality is relative, and even at his worst, Wayne is Larry Bird (did you see that coming?) next to some of the D-Leaguers charting right now (yes, you, Meek Mill and Trey Songz). But he’s definitely 1988 Bird: his best statistical season—just turn on your radio—but nonetheless on the decline.

But the rap game isn’t a physical one, and its best shouldn’t break down at age 29. I’ve heard some hypotheses on this—sizzurp, prison, etc.—but here’s the truth: he’s got one look (“One look?”). It’s that thing he does where he takes a popular idiom and turns it around. “Blunt Blowin’” alone features the following: “If time is money, I’m an hour past paid,” “The tables turned, but I’m still sittin’ at ‘em,” “When that cookie crumble, errbody want a crumb,” “Belly of the beast ‘till it puke us.” On “She Will,” in the span of five seconds, we get: “Kharma is a b***h, well just make sure that b***h is beautiful” and “I tried to pay attention but attention paid me.”

It’s a cool gimmick, and one I’m sure I’ll hear twelve million more times before he calls it quits. But he’s no Kanye.