As his stature has risen in Southeast D.C. the past few years, Skino’s one-note deadpan has taken shape over the exact kind of metallic carnage that inspired that “construction site” tweet. Like a lot of his contemporaries, Skino’s raps depend on rhythmic stasis and the context and fervor of his disses more than his ability to assemble a rhyme scheme or a clever punchline. Though the DMV remains the most exciting street rap region in my eyes, at its worst, it’s plagued by homogeneity; what separates one local rapper’s punch-in flow from the next is often marginal. Skino can’t seem to break that cycle: There’s not enough specificity or emotion in his vignettes, not enough dynamism in his delivery or creativity in his word choice to distinguish who he is as an artist. Whether it was intended or not, Blood & Oil really just feels like his answer to the other street rappers in his city— Xang , Zel , and (beef aside) Too Many Strikers —using intricate, mosaic production to go against the grain.…