By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
This advice isn't articulated on I Want It All. Instead, Warren delivers these sentiments more subliminally, in beats that bump instead of bang, in lyrics that deliver their message with nudges instead of punches. But even as he's rapping a touching ode to the memory of his late mother ("Ola Mae") or reuniting with Snoop and Nate to comment on the march of time ("Game Don't Wait") or nursery-rhyme riffing off "A-Tisket, A-Tasket" ("Dope Beat"), Warren says this album is cutting with a double edge—making the point that being sensitive is not the same as being soft.
"I put my heart into this one," Warren explains. "I put it into all my albums. But with this one, I had to put it down. People had to know that Warren G ain't no scrub. I'm in tight with this game."
Wron G, the retired Marine who is Warren's manager (as well as his uncle), beams when he hears his nephew talk like that. "Warren has grown," he says. "He didn't sell out or jump on a fad. Instead, he's dropping this smooth record in the middle of a trend of hard, jungle-based beats. That shows me the best kind of confidence."
The same goes for the collaborations that permeate the album, which draw artists from all over the country—Slick Rick from the East, Jermain Dupri from the South and Crucial Conflict from the Midwest—itself a salient point in a musical form racked by so many regional rivalries.
"It's a beautiful thing, man," Warren gushes. "I called 'em, they came, and we built relationships. That's what we tried to do, and that's what we did. It's not always about the money. It's also showing people that bread is being broken between East and West, North and South. It's showing people there's love."