A$AP Ferg’s last LP, Always Strive and Prosper, was a portrait of the artist in a state of reflection, considering his life and work in the wake of his friend’s death and his own success. In some ways, it represented the New York rapper Ferg’s maturation—the wizened perspective of an ascendant rapper with a little bit of work under his belt. In that sense at least, his latest LP Still Striving is a regression into the gleeful ignorance that colored his earlier work.

The line between “mixtape” and a proper “album” has long been inexorably blurred, with the distinction lying mostly in how the artist chooses to refer to it. For Ferg, it appears to be an indictment of the record’s quality, or perhaps how much time he spent on it. Like Ferg Forever, his latest tape feels light and loose, a collection of mostly throw-away verses and guest features that serve more to flex Ferg’s network than anything else. Of the 14 tracks on Still Striving, only three are without guest verses, and with few exceptions (Cam’ron, Busta Rhymes), most of the guests are lyrical lightweights that avoid showing him up. More than anything else, the crowded real estate takes some of the pressure off of him as a writer; he rarely contributes more than a single verse and a hook.

This is Still Striving (and Ferg’s) biggest strength, and most glaring weakness: His style is his substance. He attended an arts high school (NYC’s High School of Art & Design), and is an unabashed student of visual art and fashion. His father, Darold Ferguson, owned a Harlem boutique, and even designed the iconic Bad Boy logo; Ferg briefly followed in his footsteps, selling custom belts before his rap career took off. To this day he’s still got one foot in the trap and one on the runway and fits well within an A$AP aesthetic that embraces influences from Atlanta and Miami as much as it does those from NYC. But as he synthesizes these myriad references, any distinct identity gets lost in the shuffle. On “Plain Jane,” Ferg tips his cap to Juicy J’s ode to misogynoir, “Slob on My Knob,” which almost 20 years later has lost its shock value; On the Migos collabo “Nasty (Who Dat),” he awkwardly flips JT Money’s rowdy singalong “Who Dat” with a darker, digitized drone.

While much of the tape is forgettable, Still Striving is not without its standout moments. “East Coast Remix”—a one-off single turned posse cut that regrettably drops original collaborator Remy Ma—benefits from a competitive fire stoked by stacking big name rappers (Busta Rhymes, A$AP Rocky, Snoop Dogg) atop a filthy DJ Khalil & Tariq Beats beat. But Ferg is at his most interesting when he drops his guard and gets personal, like when he laments his grandma’s arthritis (“Plain Jane”), or the various contraband family members have stored in their mattresses (“The Mattress Remix”). And on album closer “Tango”—the best Frankie P production on a tape chock full of them—Ferg is at his strongest, reflecting on his life and losses. Free of guest verses and tough-guy posturing, the twinkling ballad offers a rare glimpse of Ferg’s narrative skills:

Speak to Yams’ mom on the daily, beautiful lady

Feelin’ of her losing her baby drivin’ her crazy

She say that I remind her of her son

She make arroz con pollo and cook every time I come

I get the ’itis, she tell me to go sleep in his bed

And maybe some of Yams’ visions come to your head

It’s a touching moment from an MC that rarely offers a peek behind the curtain—and perhaps, a hint at what could be in store once the bright lights fade and the swag subsides.