With I Tried to Tell You, Southeast DC rapper KP Skywalka delivers a sprawling, 20-song project that redefines the limits of the DMV’s drill sound by injecting it with deep personal history and Black soul music tradition. While KP adheres to the subgenre’s characteristic breathless, punch-in flow and street-level detail—a style previously seen in projects like 4 Tha Freakas and Rhythm N Bip—the album’s limitless energy and roving narration prevent the monotony often associated with the format.
The album serves as a sonic scrapbook, with KP weaving together memories of family, hustle, and emotional stress. His beat selection, featuring work from producers like Turn Me Up Pro, acts as a bridge to the soulful music of his youth. The opening track, “Industry,” features him crooning along to a warbling H-Town sample, while “Nuntoloose” uses Anita Baker’s voice to frame a soothing, plugg-infused linkup. The influence of DC’s native go-go tradition is evident in the tittering drums underneath a funky saxophone sample on “VPN,” to which KP meticulously molds his delivery. This varied production coaxes out distinct styles, from the angelic choral arrangement that slows his pace on “Streets Sing to Me,” to the heartbroken, warped sound of “A Drop Out,” which echoes a TLC track.
The album’s greatest strength is its narrative complexity, which moves beyond regional rap conventions. This is best exemplified by the standout track “Hell or Not,” where a hazy Erykah Badu sample accompanies KP’s internal debate, shifting instantly from wistful recollections of childhood (“just noodles and Spam”) to the urgency of preparing for “war up.” This ability to juxtapose tender musings with quasi-apocalyptic visions, pouring out with a possessed, drill-tinged flow, makes moments feel closer in his mind than in the rearview mirror. His slow-crawl storytelling style evokes the meticulous autobiography of Southern rappers like Pimp C, as he paints detailed pictures of speeding through red lights (“Scared Like Steele”) or making it up the Northeast Corridor before dawn (“Latenight”).
The emotional crux of I Tried to Tell You is the constant tension between KP’s hardened survival instincts and his inner sensitivity. This contradiction is delivered with striking candor. On “See My Wrongs,” his romantic optimism is immediately followed by a step-by-step account of helping a friend realize the “dreams of being a killer in the streets.” Similarly, on “Made It Out,” his triumphant memory of a successful headshot gives way to a stutter as he wonders if losing friends made him “d-depressing.” When his words conflict, KP often switches to a higher, sing-song register, ensuring his conflicting truths are heard clearly, regardless of whether they “line up on paper.”
What keeps the album feeling vital is KP’s willingness to break conventions and follow instinct. He treats collaborations like an away game—skating over calypso drums with Skrilla—and yields the spotlight to Skino and Lil Hawa. The gun ad-libs flowing from him in the background of “Itty” sound like a genuine internal argument. This ingenuity proves that DMV Free Car Music can maintain its toughness and bite without sacrificing individual soul. The album concludes with a final moment of striking vulnerability on “Pockets Flat,” where, after musing on stacking cash, his voice is distant and edited as he shares the tightrope act of his life: “Ain’t see grandma in two months, like she want see my face.”
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