Four albums deep, 's presence on the microphone rivals that of the better MCs of the latter day. However, on , seems to have lost some of the edge on his lyrical blade, which once tested in underground fires more than a half-decade before he hit the mainstream in 1999. The man who brought listeners (from his 1996 debut, ), and (from the 1998 release ) managed to avoid the sophomore slump, but instead found the junior jinx with the disappointing 2000 release of , even with in his corner. While is still in cahoots with the good here, unfortunately is a continuation of his lackluster spiral rather than the masterpiece that fans thought to be inevitable when he linked up with the likes of , and in the Y2K. Things start off with dark zest on the cleverly worded and sinisterly composed produced not by , but by East Coaster . chimes in with lyrics for the awkward and clunky and beats for the delightfully raunchy and the slightly above-workaday featuring . Also, taking a somewhat shameful page out of 's book, producer turns to early-'80s ( ) for inspiration on the painfully inane Things pick up some on the camp's retort to a dis on the -produced (featuring some patented punch lines and a G-hook from ) and the cross-continental banger featuring Brownsville sluggers The heartfelt ode to his mother ( ) notwithstanding, after the floss and gloss of this release is peeled away, there's a lot more of the MC caught in the machine of the industry than there is of the gifted man. ~ M.F. DiBella