sees as the real follow-up to , having alluded to the recording of as rushed. The collaboration and appearances on 's "Love Galore," 's "Portland," and ' "4 AM," among a slew of other tracks, also preceded this third official solo studio full-length, heralded by the single "Watch," conspicuously absent given its direct reference to the demolished Houston attraction the album is titled after. undoubtedly feels more like a spectacle than did. The sprawling theme park concept, however loose, is a cunning way to rationalize the tactically hospitable variety of producers and featured artists, which numbers somewhere around 50 -- a large supporting cast, even by 's standard. A long line of unsurprising guests like , , and are thrown into play with , the latter class of which seems like a bid for Grammy appeal. The beats, contributed by over 30 figures, are neatly sewn together by co-executive producer , who eases the twists and turns taken by the all the slinking rhythms and whirling atmospheres. 's voice slithers through the murk, rapping and singing in graphic-as-ever detail about his lifestyle of narcotics, air travel, hotels, and trysts, energized most when boasting about fans "stage divin' out the nosebleeds" and urging all to "fuck the club up." He's clearly not bothered by indulging in thrills reflective of the album's title. The modulation and echo treatments on the vocals, combined with the frequently torpid tempos, nonetheless make ideal for being pumped through an (18 and over) amusement park's sound system near closing time, when the challenge of hitting all the rides has started to turn into an overindulgent, overheated chore. Beyond potent highlights "Butterfly Effect," "Sicko Mode," and a levitating tribute to hip-hop pioneer and Houston legend , there's a pair of 's most moving and personal cuts in "Coffee Bean" and "Astrothunder." The former, the finale, deviates from the rest of the album with a gently knocking beat and sounding positively -like as he laments, "Fighting over your seeds, writing over your deeds, sliding over your keys." ~ Andy Kellman