No matter what the initial intent, the Summer Of Kreay slogged on through the year’s hottest months, with the Internet arguing over the meaning of her affectless rapping and her associates’ racial slurs, her getting whiny and defensive on Twitter at those people who dared call her out, and—finally, depressingly—her talking smack about Rick Ross, then backing down once she was within his sights, only to taunt him once more while safely behind her own computer screen. That whole series of events was a sort of tabloid-blog Xerox of what makes “Gucci Gucci” so awful awful: It’s a series of weakly flung taunts from a scared young woman who has absolutely nothing to back up her boasts, save a puffed-up sense of self-worth that evaporates as soon as she’s out of her element, or even in the same room as the person who she’s positioning herself against. Which is not to knock people in need of a self-confidence boost—just to say that maybe the best way to go about getting it isn’t to make fun of others’ fashion sense and purchasing power, since those are the sorts of virtues that can evaporate into a puff of smoke faster than you can tweet “that shit kreay.” Especially if you can’t rap worth a lick. (That line about swag and ovaries might be the most overrated boast of the year, a worse biological metaphor even than Janet Jackson calling herself “heavy like a first-day period” five years back.)