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There are two ways you can look at 100s. One argues he's nothing but a jumped up "girly-haired" 'fake' pushing gimmicky ringtone rap - which with the previous album cover ripping off The Doggfather and his admittance to having a fairly comfortable upbringing is understandable. Or to the more open minded he's a shapeshifting extravert with an ear for a beat and an obsession with pimp culture, painting a rap-tapestry (rapestry!?) of '70s Blaxploitation. Lines like "so many white girls they think it's self-hatred" followed later by "so many black girls they think it's self-hatred" support this view, a cunning portrayal of his half-Jewish, half-Ivorian heritage. Maybe his Earl Sweatshirt / Julian Casablancas esque upbringing made him see the world in a different way having been exiled to a boarding school in the Ivory Coast for "fucking up" aged 16.

But all this is probably looking into it too much. In interviews 100s simply comes across as an old school West Coast rap fan overdosed on creativity and charisma. He's freshening up the scene with acerbic wit, Haymaker punchlines and beats bouncier than the hydraulics on his customised Cadillac. You get the feeling that the Ice Cold Perm persona is just the first in a long line of characters; indeed he may never show his real hand. Probably a good thing too since if you've only got one avenue to go down as an artist then that avenue swiftly becomes a dead-end, something all too many rappers realise after blowing their label advances.

Getting into the nitty gritty of IVRY, it's the type of enchanting leftover kebab project you immediately think you hate yet seldom leave alone. The first track has an enticing urgency and focus reminiscent of Danny Brown's XXX, but the chilling line "them bitches know I take where they get bought at" is delivered with no filter and will probably force a lot of immediate tune-outs. If you can get past the vicarious, purposefully abhorrent character he plays, then listen on. Next up 'Thru My Veins' is a masterclass in punchlines, timing and delivery. "I can never knock the next man, who gon' trick on them hoes until he need a bedpan" says it all.

The rest of the EP buoyantly bounces on a pimped out pogo stick through Rick James era R&B and laid back West Coast G-Funk with the catchiest hooks and most deplorable misogyny imaginable. If you take it as tongue in cheek and give it time then you'll go a long way with it. It would be too easy to dismiss certain tracks as Lonely Island rap on a first listen, such as on '10 Freaky Hoes' or 'Fuckin Around' which feature lazy humour and unashamedly bubblegum synths. The reality is you won't stop hitting play because they're so god-damn fun to listen to.

At times it can feel a little simplistic and even corny, with the pedestrian storytelling in 'Slide On Ya' for example, but somehow this ends up being one of the standout tracks through merit of an impeccably used slap bass and guitar solo. It seems that every time the lyricism is off he makes up for it with a beguiling hook or mesmeric instrumental enough to make your librarian twerk. Sure, it could be seen as a little one dimensional and even shy at a mere eight tracks in total - but this cleverly cuts it off before becoming tiresome or stale. Basically IVRY knows it's just an appetiser for the now extremely hyped sophomore Sex Symbol, but there's no smoke and mirrors about that.

It's simply all too easy to get entirely immersed in 100s' vividly depicted façade; such is the detail and audacity in IVRY's debauchery. I honestly planned to give this two listens at most, but ended up playlisting every song and buying Ice Cold Perm soon after. He has production savvy, a unique swagger and every rap blog weak at the knees for his forthcoming LP - with Fool's Gold now calling the shots it's becoming difficult to see anything other than royal flushes in the future.