Twelve years after Ghostface Killah talked about switching up his accent to convince people he was from Paris, pretty much the entire rest of hip-hip seems to be taking his lead. Thanks in part to the luxury travel itineraries flaunted by the likes of Puffy and Jay and Kanye, the City of Lights has become the new rap Mecca. (Where is MC Solaar through all this? He should be ringing up guest appearances.) It’s especially striking to see someone like Atlanta’s Waka Flocka Flame, whose considerable appeal relies so much on everyday, down-to-earth, streets-of-his-hometown approachability, rapping about splurging at the Louis Viutton store in “downtown France.” But, like most of the music he makes, this time bolstered by a simple, eight-note descending organ riff (a nod to The Phantom of the Opera? Sure, why not), Flocka’s latest is irresistible fist-pump fodder. His second official album, Triple F Life, is coming out June 12. I can’t wait.