Album Review: Central Cee – Can’t Rush Greatness

Central Cee has never been one to shy away from ambition. His debut album, Can’t Rush Greatness, is a title that feels more like a mantra—a self-assured statement of intent. Yet, while the title suggests patience and careful craftsmanship, Cee’s rise has been anything but slow. From his breakout mixtape Wild West, which stormed the UK charts at No. 2, to his follow-up 23 debuting at No. 1, his ascent has been swift, almost gravitational. With this album, he steps into a new chapter, one where his UK drill roots collide with a sprawling, genre-fluid sensibility. At 17 tracks, it’s bold, eclectic, and, at times, uneven—but it’s also undeniably compelling.

At its core, Can’t Rush Greatness is an album about transitions. Stylistic ones, yes, but also personal and emotional shifts. Central Cee—or Oakley Neil Caesar-Su, as his birth certificate reads—moves deftly between the gritty authenticity of his London upbringing and the glossier veneer of international superstardom. This duality defines the album, creating a tension that’s as exhilarating as it is reflective. The production mirrors this interplay: heavy, ominous beats juxtaposed with moments of surprising vulnerability. It’s an album that’s confident in its swagger yet riddled with doubt—a dichotomy that gives it a human pulse.

Take “5 Star,” an early standout that feels like the album’s thesis statement. Over a minimalist, brooding instrumental, Cee reflects on the surreal nature of his success. “I feel like I’m dreaming but I’m not asleep, I’m wide awake / My chef is asking how I like my steak,” he raps, his voice tinged with both pride and disbelief. It’s the kind of line that encapsulates his journey: the tension between the grounded and the surreal, between the boy from Shepherd’s Bush and the man navigating five-star hotels. The beat is sparse, almost paranoid, amplifying the unease beneath his bravado.

This thread of ambivalence continues on “Limitless,” a track that’s as introspective as it is melancholic. Here, Cee wrestles with the cost of his success, lamenting the distance it’s created between him and his past. “Hood ambience / I’m used to falling asleep to the sound of sirens… I don’t think I like this silence,” he confesses. It’s a line steeped in nostalgia and longing, his delivery raw and unguarded. The track serves as a reminder that no matter how far he’s come, the echoes of his old life remain loud, haunting him in moments of quiet.

Yet, Can’t Rush Greatness isn’t all introspection. There’s plenty of sharp-edged bravado here, and Cee wears it well. On “CRG,” a collaboration with Dave, the two MCs trade bars with precision, dissecting the contradictions of their success. “Business class is free… so my mum takes every snack she can,” Dave quips, blending humour with a poignant undercurrent. It’s moments like this that ground the album, preventing it from veering too far into self-indulgence. Similarly, “Ten,” featuring Skepta, is pure swagger, a sharp critique of complacency in the industry. The chemistry between the two is electric, their flows bouncing off each other with razor-sharp intensity.

What makes Can’t Rush Greatness truly stand out, however, is its willingness to experiment. Central Cee has often been pigeonholed as a drill artist, but here, he proves he’s capable of much more. Tracks like “Now We’re Strangers” and “Gata” showcase his range, moving into softer, more melodic territory. “Now We’re Strangers” is a breakup track with an aching simplicity, while “Gata,” featuring Puerto Rican artist Young Miko, leans into Latin pop influences with a breezy, infectious charm. The latter is particularly striking—its chorus feels effortless, a sunlit reprieve in an otherwise introspective album. Lines like “She got makeup on my jacket” are deceptively simple yet evocative, capturing the fragility of fleeting moments.

Still, the album isn’t without its flaws. At times, the sheer variety of sounds feels more like a patchwork than a cohesive vision. While tracks like “Doja” and “Top Freestyle” showcase his versatility, they also highlight the challenge of maintaining narrative focus across such a wide sonic palette. And while Cee’s lyrical ability shines in places, there are moments where his flow borders on repetitive, particularly on tracks where the production doesn’t do enough to elevate the material. It’s a minor gripe, but one that keeps the album from fully reaching its potential.

Among the standout moments on Can’t Rush Greatness is the explosive collaboration with 21 Savage, “GBP.” Released as a surprise single ahead of the album, the track delivers a fusion of UK and US rap cultures, showcasing Central Cee’s ability to seamlessly blend his London-born authenticity with the raw, unflinching energy of 21 Savage. Built on a hypnotic vocal sample and an uncompromising beat, “GBP” serves as both a reflection and a declaration—a meditation on success, struggle, and the tensions between the two.

What Can’t Rush Greatness does achieve, however, is a sense of ambition that’s both admirable and deeply personal. Central Cee is an artist in transition, grappling with the weight of expectations and the complexities of his identity. The album is less about declaring greatness and more about exploring what it means to strive for it in a world that’s often unforgiving. There’s a restlessness to the record, a feeling that Cee is still searching for the perfect balance between the personal and the universal, the local and the global.

And maybe that’s the point. Can’t Rush Greatness isn’t a flawless debut, but it’s a fascinating one. It’s an album that’s as much about the process of becoming as it is about the end result. Central Cee doesn’t have all the answers yet, but he’s asking the right questions—and in doing so, he’s carving out a space that’s distinctly his own.

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