J. Cole
The Fall Off (released February 6, 2026)
You can’t call yourself a legend in hip-hop without first solidifying your legacy.
Look at the greats. Big Pun – a trailblazer for Latinos in hip-hop, who has gone down as one of the game’s best lyricists. Jay Z – not just the face of the industry for a generation, but also the blueprint (pun intended) of the modern music mogul. Lil Kim – her unapologetic approach to sexuality rattled cages, but also broke barriers, creating a template that women MCs have borrowed for three decades. Nas – an elite poet who gave hip-hop its greatest gift with Illmatic yet continues to bridge the gap between past and current generations
But with his career ALLEGEDLY coming to a close, what’s Jermaine Cole’s legacy?
As a Day One fan, it’s hard for me to objectively answer that.
He’s given us great, introspective projects … that are often handcuffed by underwhelming production.
He’s delivered some of the best guest verses in the modern era, easily outrapping his competition … but too often slides into cruise control on his own albums.
He’s often named as the third pillar of the modern day Big Three rap triumvirate … but, while understandable in hindsight, his willingness to bow out of this era’s biggest showdown was a massive hit to his claim to the crown.
And before you write off this critique with the usual, lazy oH hE hAtIN critique, longtime. Soul In Stereo readers know that I’ve been Team Cole World for a LONG time. Long before the mainstream kids were pulling up to Forest Hills Drive, I was riding with Young Simba, draining my iPod with repeat listens of “Looking for Trouble” and “Villematic.”
But if you asked me to honestly reflect on his legacy, I’d have questions.
And clearly, he does too. Because despite all the rap bluster, his doubts are evident. That’s what makes Cole so incredibly relatable and human. And it’s also why The Fall Off is arguably the most important album of Cole’s career.
If this truly is Cole’s final album, The Fall Off does a masterful job of showing his evolution from feisty lion cub to the head of the pride. The project is divided into two “discs,” with the first, Disc 29, representing Cole’s journey back to his hometown in North Carolina after his stint in New York. And it’s not just a throwback in narrative – Cole recaptures the spirit that defines his early mixtape days.
His lyricism is much more aggressive and deliberate. His storytelling is filled with wide-eyed optimism, but he has a massive chip on his shoulder too.
Basically, this is Mixtape Cole, the guy us Day Ones fell in love with.
After a surprising snippet of James Taylor’s “Carolina on My Mind,” we join Cole on his triumphant return home – but reception isn’t as warm as he’d expect. “Safety” depicts a town that’s familiar but filled with sorrow – longtime friends now line obituaries. “Poor Thing” and “Drum n Bass” forces Cole to come face-to-face with his opps. It’s not quite the hero’s welcome he was expecting.
The production matches the obstacles. The beat of “Run a Train” tumbles like a 90s underground banger as Cole realizes that he might be outgrowing the nostalgia he held dear. “Who TF Iz U” flips from menacing notes of Mobb Deep’s “Drop a Gem on ‘Em” to a rapid fire sonic assault. And on “Legacy” (there’s that word again…), the production is much lighter as Cole attempts to chase the girl that got away. “So busy looking back that I can’t see what God has made for mе,” he laments.
Though Cole feels more energized on this disc than he has in years, it’s not without its share of potholes. The momentum begins to drag on the last few tracks. Also, who thought it was a good idea for drunk uncle Future to mumble Usher verses on “Bunce Road Blues?” Thankfully, Tems’ contribution near the end of the song ensures that Alchemist’s premier production doesn’t go to waste.
The disc ends with the poingnat “Lonely at the Top,” which sees Cole fulfilling his dream and ascending to rap’s apex – only to realize the view isn’t as dope as he’d expect:
If they could trust in young Jermaine we’d do our drills,
we’d shake the rust
we blow the dust off the pain and go shake up the game
And maybe then I’d have someone I want to be again
But even as I write that thought I don’t believe it, dang
‘Cause maybe it wasn’t even them, it’s really me that changed
Maybe it wasn’t even them, it’s really me that changed
And that brings us to Disc 39: 10 years later, Cole is wiser, much more confident but still clearly unsure of his place in the game.
Basically, this is Modern Day Cole, the guy newer fans fell in love with post Forest Hills Drive. His flow is more deliberate, his introspection is wiser and his approach is more experimental.
“The Fall Off Is Inevitable” is a masterclass in technique – think Nas’ “Rewind” except encompassing Cole’s entire lifetime instead of a single day. Essentially, it’s a reverse speedrun. I need to try one of those on TikTok sometime. It’s here where you see where Cole’s priorities now lie – it’s not just fame, it’s family.
“The Villest,” again sampling Mobb Deep (this time, “The Realest”) has Cole grappling with survivor’s guilt as he reflects on the loss of his friend: “If Darwinism states only the stronger make it then/Why am I here when I don’t feel that I’m as great as him?”
“Life Sentence” serves as the flipside to “Legacy” – he’s no longer chasing the girl, he’s celebrating the one who completes him while borrowing DMX’s “How’s It Goin Down” to emphasize his point. And on the topic of love, “I Love Her Again” is an ode to the OTHER woman in Jermaine’s life. He follows Common’s lead to reflect on his tumultuous relationship with hip-hop itself – from initial infatuation, to how he felt betrayed when the genre moved on without him, to Cole realizing that hasn’t always been a great partner himself. It’s a powerful tale of how the things we love most can also cause the most pain.
But this is a modern day Cole project, so sadly we get the usual modern day issues: “What If” attempts to recontextualize the beef between 2pac and The Notorious BIG as a misunderstanding that could be rectified, and while the intent is noble, it feels way too much like a make-good for his brief insertion in the Drake/Kendrick Lamar debacle. It was better left alone. And, ugh, my old enemy Shower Singin’ J. Cole returns on “Only You” and the bonus “Ocean Way.” At least the production is pretty good on the former.
As you can tell by the length of this review, The Fall Off is an extremely ambitious project that mostly works. Mostly.
OG fans likely will prefer the scrappy tenacity of the first disc; younger fans probably will gravitate to disc two because it’s more in line with the Cole they first met. There’s something here for everyone. That said, double albums are very tricky to pull off and Cole bites off a bit more than he can chew. At nearly two hours, the album is in dire need of trimming. The dual disc concept could still work – and be MUCH tighter – if each disc ran for eight or so songs each. Each side could lose a handful of tracks and still retain its narrative.
The Fall Off might not be the instant classic some fans expected but it’s still among some of Cole’s best work post-mixtape run, easily a top 3 release. Maybe even No. 2 in time.
And that brings us back to the question that started this review: If this really is the end, what is J. Cole’s legacy?
I think the track “Quik Stop” best sums it up – it details a random but touching interaction with a fan at a gas station. After the encounter, Cole has an epiphany:
This life is more than just rap, more than the b****es you scrape
More than the riches you stack, see, it’s the difference you make
Cole was never meant to be the prince who would become king. In a game where everyone wants to walk among the gods, he’s the one with his feet on the ground.
He’s the rap’s everyman – the people’s champ.
And finally, he seems content with that.
Best tracks: “Life Sentence,” “I Love Her Again,” “Who TF Iz U”
4 stars out of 5
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