Now, he’s trying hard to get a rise out of anyone who would dare question his authority. “Don’t come to me with no goofy ghetto shit/I’m racist, and I don’t like that,” he hisses at the start of “GYBB,” chewing on the word “racist” for as long as he’s able. It doesn’t matter whether you actually believe JPEG is racist; he wants you to approach bars like this in bad faith, just like he wants you to clutch your pearls when he says the “little boys” making up his competition can’t touch him like Epstein on “Mask On” or the handful of times he wheels out more hackneyed winking jokes about rapping like Republican talking point du jour or how white women are better at sex. Structurally and thematically, the playbook couldn’t be clearer; it’s hard not to feel as though we’re watching JPEG plateau in real time. This makes the handful of moments where he does push his pen more frustrating than they should be.…