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The 20-year-old rising star was the voice of Brooklyn drill when he died. On his debut album, executive-produced by 50 Cent, his voice shines through despite a raft of unnecessary features.
Nearly every New York neighborhood has a character like Pop Smoke: flashy, cocky, trash-talking while hitting a dance, all jokes until suddenly he’s deadly serious. Born Bashar Jackson in Canarsie, Brooklyn, Pop Smoke was raised among blocks so rich with Caribbean culture that his breakout music video was partially filmed at Peppa’s, a local Jamaican jerk chicken hotspot. During the year or so his career lasted, he was the centerpiece of the borough’s drill movement, a subgenre born and popularized in Chicago, and adopted and personalized by New York. By the time he was shot and killed at 20, Pop Smoke wasn’t just a rapper, he was the voice of Brooklyn drill.
In the winter of 2018, a teenage Pop Smoke arrived with one of his first-ever recordings, a thunderous remix of Sheff G’s “Panic Part 3.” By the summer, kids across the city were emulating his bellowing voice and signature dance, using any opportunity to shout the quotables off of his instant classic debut mixtape, Meet the Woo—“Bitch, I’m a thot, get me lit,” should replace “Fuhgeddaboudit” on the leaving Brooklyn sign. His breakthrough single, “Welcome to the Party,” was so hot that Nicki Minaj hopped on the remix to assure that Pop would bring Brooklyn drill to the masses. Soon enough, he was riding around the borough in a Bugatti with Travis Scott, in Paris with Virgil Abloh, and shutting down shows in the UK. When his second mixtape rolled around in February, he was a borderline superstar. He was dead less than two weeks later. It went so fast he never even got the chance to perform an official hometown show.
Shoot for the Stars Aim for the Moon, Pop Smoke’s debut album, released posthumously, attempts to cement his legacy by expanding his world. Executive produced by his would-be mentor 50 Cent, it’s big, polished, versatile, feature-packed, and loaded with radio and playlist-friendly records. It’s the type of album that will boost streams, but it runs counter to what made Pop Smoke appealing in the first place. When “Welcome to the Party” and “Dior” first began to play on the radio, it was like the airwaves had been hacked. There was no way this Canarsie rapper with the hulking voice, chanting on nightmarish UK drill beats, was supposed to be playing in between Drake and DaBaby, right? Yet there he was.

On Stars, Pop Smoke’s animated personality and charisma are drowned out. We didn’t need Pop Smoke’s wannabe Cali-strip-club anthem with Tyga and Mustard on “West Coast Shit.” Or a hollow Astroworld retread on “Aim for the Moon.” Or a forced Rap Caviar-bound marathon with Lil Baby and DaBaby on “For the Night.” Pop Smoke’s music came to life most when he made a couple of blocks in Canarsie seem like the only place that mattered—a subway ride to SoHo might as well have been a private jet to Bora Bora.
Buried under the fluff somewhere is a good album. “44 BullDog” is a return to Pop gliding on sinister drill beats, and it’s his sharpest song since his debut. Some of Pop’s risks pay off, too. “Something Special,” a flip of Fabolous and Tamia’s “Into You,” is the type of macho love song that hasn’t been done this well since 50 Cent’s “21 Questions”: Pop’s idea of romance is sneaking into his girlfriend’s crib when her parents are at work and letting her call him by his government name. And on “Make It Rain,” Pop unites with Brooklyn drill founding father Rowdy Rebel for a cinematic celebration between two rappers who had their moments unfairly stolen from them.
Crucially, Shoot for the Stars Aim for the Moon doesn’t take into consideration that Pop Smoke’s legacy was already cemented. He didn’t need this glossy, high-budget experience. But Shoot for the Stars Aim for the Moon ’s flaws become an afterthought, and the good moments here will outlast them. Having new Pop Smoke music to play at backyard BBQs and out of car windows is good enough.

All the album needs is his voice, which will last forever.