Blame “ Rap God ”-era Eminem and suburban white boys whose party trick is spitting Busta ’s “ Look at Me Now ” verse for the reputation “fast rap” has nowadays: an overly technical exercise for the swagless. I beg to differ, though. Variations on the flow can be such a stylish inroad to a rapper’s psyche, whether they’re as in-control and precise as the graceful lyrical bursts of Freestyle Fellowship’s P.E.A.C.E. or as drunk and cluttered as a Bronx drill diss. If you need more proof, there’s LIVING TYPE DANGEROUS Vol. 1 , the new album from Starker , a bugged-out Nuyorican rhymer with a lethal voice that punctures soul loops and gutter East Coast beats like a rusty nail. Nearly every one of its unfiltered 19 tracks is a mad dash of stray thoughts, flashbacks, cartoonish villainy, and details so fragmented it’s like he’s trying to patchwork his own life together like the dude in Memento . That chaos comes from the way it feels like Starker is stuck in limbo between two New York timelines at once.…