Mase – Harlem World (October 28, 1997)

Posted on 03/17/2026 by deedub77

Bad Boy Records was founded by Sean “Puffy” Combs in 1993, but the label’s foundation was laid on Craig Mack’s (RIP) platinum-selling debut single, “Flava In Ya Ear,” and the building was erected on the back of The Notorious B.I.G. But with Biggie’s tragic murder in March of 1997, Bad Boy’s cash cow was gone, and the label’s future was uncertain. Yes, they still had Faith Evans, Total, and 112 on the R&B side of the label, who were all successful in their own right, but none of them had the star status and money-generating power of Biggie. Craig Mack was no longer with Bad Boy, and though No Way Out was a massive success (seven times platinum), I’m sure most of those numbers were generated by curiosity, as it was the first Bad Boy release since Biggie’s murder. Regardless, Bad Boy needed a new rapper to pick up Biggie’s baton and continue the race that Puffy promised wouldn’t stop. Enter Mase into the equation.

Formerly known as Murder Mase, who ran with the underground Harlem crew, Children Of The Corn (which also included Cam’ron, Big L, and McGruff), he’d drop the Murder from his alias when he joined the Bad Boy team. The world was introduced to Mase through the lead single from No Way Out, “Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down,” released in January of ’97. Later that same year, he’d appear on a freestyle with Puff on Funkmaster Flex’s 60 Minutes Vol II, and Biggie’s radio-friendly single, “Mo’ Money Mo Problems.” After the success of No Way Out, it was prime time for Mase to release his debut album. He would strike with Harlem World in October of ‘97.

Backed by Puffy’s Bad Boy machine and the reliable hands of the Hitmen behind the boards (and a few other prominent producers that we’ll discuss later), Harlem World would produce three gold or better singles, climb to number one on the Billboard Top 200, and earn double platinum status less than two months after its release (to date its four times platinum). Alongside its commercial success, the album also received critical acclaim.

This is another album that I missed when it came out due to my hip-hop sabbatical. I found a used CD copy several years ago, and this review marks my first time listening to it. Let’s jump into it and see how this goes.

Puff’s Intro – What would a Bad Boy album be without Diddy talking all over it? Over the smooth yet funky stylings of an Isaac Hayes sample, Diddy welcomes us all to the place Mase calls home (Harlem) and lets us know what we can expect Mase to rap about on Harlem World: “life, death, sex, drugs, happiness, jealousy, envy, and reality.” Now, on with the show.

Do You Wanna Get $? – D-Dot and Amen-Ra tap Peter Brown’s 1978 disco hit, “Do Ya Wanna Get Funky With Me,” turning it into what I can only describe as aerobic funk, and I mean that in the most flattering way. Mase’s three verses address his doubters and naysayers and are consumed with boasts about major money and materialism. Mase’s talking points aren’t innovative, but his skill makes them sound intriguing, nonetheless. Kelly Price (who goes uncredited in the liner notes) stops by to ask/sing a soulful question on the hook, serving as the appealing bow on this nicely packaged open track.

Take What’s Yours – On this track, our host offers glimpses of why he was once known as Murder Mase. He gives his foes an option to handle their differences via “mics or metal,” and based on the violent threats he issues throughout the song, he’s leaning towards the latter. DMX (right before his massive blow-up the following year) adds a gritty, melodic hook that sounds decent at best. The beautifully tender piano loop in the instrumental was pleasant, but way too soft to give credibility to Mase’s thug theatrics.

Mad Rapper (Interlude) – The Mad Rapper (the comical creation of D-Dot Angelettie) returns for yet another Bad Boy skit. The original skit from Life After Death was mildly funny, but ever since he invited his brother, The Mad Producer, to join him, the skits have grown progressively worse.

Will They Die 4 You? – Diddy and Lil’ Kim join Mase on this Bad Boy cipher session. The instrumental (credited to Puffy and Amen-Ra) jacks the beat from EPMD’s classic joint “Get The Bozack.” Diddy’s expensive boasts sound feeble while Mase sounds confident and fittingly works a Parrish Smith bar into his verse (the infamous “Smack me and I’ll smack you back” line). Kim bats last and sounds bodaciously cocky, highlighted by her line: “Lil’ Kim spread like syphilis, you think I’m pussy? I dare you to stick your dick in this.” A bar I found, clever, sexy, and disgusting all at the same time. Despite Puffy’s subpar performance and a tediously wordy hook, this was a solid track.

Lookin’ At Me – By 1997, The Neptunes (the production duo of Pharrell Williams and Chad Hugo) were prepping to go on a massive production run. It began in ‘96 with a couple of production credits for Total and SWV, but this track would be their first record for a rapper, and you can feel what would soon become their signature VA bounce throughout (it would also become a gold-selling single for our host). Mase handles it well, as he addresses his haters and those just dumbfounded by his presence with conceited bars. Along the way, he recycles a few lines from LL’s “Illegal Search” (which feels more like a homage than a bite) and dishes out a few witty, chuckle-worthy bars. The hook was a little cheesy, but the rest of the track’s elements make up for its corniness.

White Girl (Interlude) – As per the title, this brief interlude revolves around a phone conversation between Mase, his man, and two bad snow bunny groupies, Julie and Becky, who appear to be mesmerized by Mase and his ghetto aura. It’s good for a couple of laughs.

Love U So – It’s always interesting to me how different producers can use the same sample and get completely different results. For instance, Trackmasters flipped Teena Marie’s “Square Biz” for The Firm’s “Firm Biz,” which had a shiny popish glaze on it. Stevie J uses the same loop for this track, and his interpretation has an elegantly soulful feel. Mase’s monotone vocal tone and deadpan delivery blend well with the music, adding an extra layer of instrumentation to the track. Billy Lawrence drops by to sing a Rose Royce-inspired hook, continuing her short-lived rap song cameo run.

The Player Way – “No one expected the unexpected.” That’s the redundant quote 8Ball opens this track with, referring to the Suave House/Bad Boy collaboration that’s about to go down. Puffy provides the whispery ad-libs, 8Ball, Mase, and MJG entertain with player prosing, and the slick and slippery Mo-Suave-A Production will keep your head nodding while you rap along with 8Ball on the pimped-out hook. This record only heightened my anticipation of dissecting 8Ball & MJG’s catalog.

Hater (Interlude) – There is absolutely no reason why a Mad Rapper/Mad Producer rant and this whining, anonymous Mase-hater should exist on the same album.

Niggaz Wanna Act – The first time I listened to this record and heard the epic-sounding tribal war drums drop, I got nervous for Mase. I thought surely this massive banger (credited to Dame Grease and Younglord, even though Mase’s shout-out to D-Dot at the beginning of the record leads you to believe he made it) would completely demolish his wearisome voice. But to my surprise, Mase lassoes the beat, and he doesn’t completely sever its head, but he does inflict substantial damage to it (and he interestingly sends a direct shot at Dame Dash in the process). The cameo King, Busta Rhymes, adds a high-octane hook that only makes the track sound more dynamic. This was amazing.

Feel So Good – One of the few (if not only) records on Harlem World that I was familiar with before this review was also the lead single. Puffy and D-Dot are credited for the uncreative jacking of Kool & The Gang’s “Hollywood Swinging” for the crossover intended backdrop as Mase spews sleepy and expensive bars, and Kelly Price sings the hook, but this time she receives credit for it in the liner notes. I didn’t care for this song back in the day, but it’s a little more tolerable within the context of the album.

What You Want – This was the second single released from Harlem World. Mase has found the girl of his dreams (or as he calls her, his “ghetto love prophecy”) and spends the song’s three verses showering her with kind words and expensive gifts. Mase is pretty clever with the wordplay, but “Girl, I wanna give you carats ‘til you feel you a rabbit” is corny as hell, and any man who tells the woman he loves “I wanna see you happy even if it’s not with me” is full of shit. Total adds a silly hook to Nashiem Myrick’s moderately funky instrumental. I wasn’t blown away by this designer love song, but I’m obviously in the minority, as it is one of three singles to go gold or better on the album.

Phone Conversation (Interlude) – This hi-larious skit is the perfect example of when juggling too many ladies goes wrong. One of the ladies named in the skit (Arion) is also rumored to have sparked a short-lived feud between Mase and Jay-Z (and was probably the muse for the Dame Dash dis a few tracks ago), but I’ll let y’all scour the internet for the facts on that one.

Cheat On You – Mase is joined by Lil’ Cease and Jay-Z (which I found interesting since Mase dissed Dame during “Niggaz Wanna Act”) as the three take turns justifying their own dirt by assuming that all women cheat (Jay getting “Shirley Murdock” and hoping his one-night stand’s “door slam lock” when he creeps out in the morning is hysterical). 112 harmonizes the trio’s sentiment on the hook, and Jermaine Dupri laces the track with a solid R&B-tinted instrumental, which ends up being the perfect soundtrack for creeping.

24 Hrs. To Live – Now here’s an original song idea. For the hook, Puffy asks the listener what they would do with their time if they had one day left to live. Mase, Jadakiss, Black Rob, Sheek Louch, Styles P, and DMX (in that order) answer the question in rhyme form. The cast of characters’ final deeds range from righteous to downright ratchet, but mostly entertaining. Speaking of entertaining, D-Dot’s melodically airy backdrop sounds pretty dope underneath the gang’s ghetto shenanigans.

I Need To Be – This record has a whole lot of creepy in it, and I don’t mean the horror movie kind. It starts off with Mase telling his homeboy that he followed a girl he was hoping to smash to school (in his defense, he thought she was of age, but it’s still some stalker shit). Then later in his first verse, he talks about feeling like a molester and rhymes “every time I go to touch it, then she say I hurt it.” And am I the only one that finds it odd that our host is cool with eating ass but frowns upon eating pussy (though he promises to give the object of his erection’s “clit a kiss” in exchange for a kiss on his dick during the last verse)? Monifah’s apprehensive hook and the eerie flute in the D-Dot/Chucky Thompson-produced instrumental only intensify the song’s underlying pedophilia vibes.

Watch Your Back (Interlude) – This phone conversation between Mase and an angry baby daddy who’s upset with our host for giving his phone number to his girl sounds like it might have been a real phone call. Either way, it makes me laugh every time I hear the peeved papa tell Mase, “Don’t give my girl your number no more,” and I laugh even harder when dude boasts he’s been to jail twice and he wants to back. Peeved papa is also a prophetic papa as he closes his rant, predicting that Puffy wouldn’t be there for Mase when the smoke cleared. Time is truly Illmatic.

Wanna Hurt Mase? – This sounds like Mase’s version of Biggie’s “My Downfall” (it even comes with the preceding hater phone call skit), but not nearly as entertaining.

Jealous Guy – Remember Mike Bivins’ kiddie group who wore their clothes inside out (and Kris Kross thought it was “wigiddy, wigiddy, wigiddy, wack!”), Another Bad Creation? For some reason, Mase, Puffy, and 112 thought it would be a good idea to remake their somber ballad, “Jealous Girl.” It might have worked if Mase rapped, 112 took care of the singing, and Puff didn’t appear on the track at all. Instead, 112 sings the background vocals while Mase and Puffy sound like they’re doing drunk karaoke, completely destroying the original song in the process. I know this was meant strictly for amusement, but Mase and Puff’s singing is so bad I couldn’t even conjure up a chuckle.

During Harlem World’s opening track (“Do You Want To Get $?”), Mase addresses the elephant in the room when he raps: “The moral of the story is, I’m not here to replace Notorious.” Mase realized Biggie was a talent that could never be replaced. Instead of trying to fill Biggie’s gigantic Timbs (a mistake Shyne would make a few years later), Mase had a different agenda, which he shares on the very next bar: “I’m just a young cat tryna do his thing, Harlem World style, pursue my dream.” Smart man.

Mase’s content on Harlem World is far from original, as he spends most of the album dissin’ player haters, bragging about his “money, hoes, and clothes” with sprinkles of tough guy talk and gangsta babble. I liked what Mase did on “Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down” and “Mo Money, Mo Problems,” but he was the help on both tracks, and I was leery of his sleepy, monotone vocal tone and deadpan delivery being able to carry the weight for the length of a solo project. Surprisingly, Mase’s understatedly witty punchlines and clever wordplay, along with the perfect scattering of guest cameos (just enough where it doesn’t feel like he’s leaning on them for support), keep Harlem World’s redundant themes entertaining. Puffy and his Hitmen strategically score Mase’s expensive boasts, player poetry, and high-priced stanzas with a handful of pure hip-hop beats mixed into a plethora of radio friendly/R&B flavored grooves, allowing Mase to maintain his street credibility while crossing over, similar to what Biggie did on Life After Death.

As one would expect with any twenty track album, Harlem World does have a few mishaps (too many skits and “Jealous Girl”) and a few mediocre moments that wouldn’t have been missed if shaved off the final cut (“Feel So Good,” “What You Want,” and “I Need To Be,” which is ironic since two of those three records were singles). But it’s a solid debut album from Mr. Betha that keeps Bad Boy’s streak of quality hip-hop albums alive.

There. I made it through a whole Bad Boy review without any baby oil or semen-on-nipple jokes.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Nice & Smooth – IV: Blazing Hot (October 28, 1997)

Posted on 03/03/2026 by deedub77

The last time we checked in with Nice & Smooth here at TimeIsIllmatic was for their third album, Jewel Of The Nile, released in 1994. Jewel was the duo’s second and last project released under the Def Jam affiliate label, Rush. Unlike its predecessor (Ain’t A Damn Thing Changed), Jewel didn’t have any signature singles and went relatively under the radar, which might explain why they and the label parted ways after its release. After a three-year hiatus, Nice & Smooth would return with their fourth release, IV: Blazing Hot.

IV was released on Street Life Records, the same label that gave us Craig Mack’s Operation: Get Down and the Laylaw compilation album, The Lawhouse Experience. Greg Nice handled most of the production duties on Nice & Smooth’s first three albums, but only receives credit for two of the twelve tracks on IV. The duo would call on the likes of Kid Capri, Easy Mo Bee, Mark Sparks, and a few others to provide the instrumentation this go round. Like its predecessor, IV came and left without a trace like a John bustin’ off in a hooker’s mouth. It is also the last time Nice & Smooth released a project together.

I’m a Nice & Smooth fan, but I have to be honest: none of their first three albums were great bodies of work. They all had bright moments, but also included some dim spots and shoddy production, hindering the overall product. This is my first time listening to IV since it found me while I was digging through the used CD bins at Cheapos several years ago. Hopefully, after three rounds of trial and error, the duo makes the proper corrections.

Blazing Hot – The show begins with looped buttery bass guitar strums placed over competent drums, and Greg Nice’s sampled voice urging the listener to “Get the album, cassingle, CD, and tapes” (all courtesy of Kid Capri). Greg Nice bats first and spews one of his vintage, fun, off-the-top-of-the-dome-esque verses, followed by a cool, calm, and perfectly packaged paragraph from Smooth B. Two verses, a call-and-response hook, and our hosts get the fuck out of Dodge at the two-and-a-half-minute mark. Well done, fellas.

NY Intro – A quick snippet of a hyped male voice instructs a New York crowd to make some noise, and the crowd obliges. This bleeds directly into the next song.

Boogie Down Bronx / BK Connection – Nice & Smooth reps for The Bronx as they invite their Brooklyn bredrin, Rappin’ Is Fundamental, to join them on this inter-borough cipher session. If you’re not familiar with Rappin’ Is Fundamental, they were a three-man team (Easy Mo Bee, AB Money, and JR the Stone Cold Lover) that called their style “doo-hop” because they mixed rhyming with harmonies, which today is just called hip-hop. AB and JR showcase a little of this fusion while Mo Bee drops a few bars and provides the hypnotizing groove (Greg Nice’s catchy hook makes the already dope instrumental sound even better). RIF’s performance was passable, but I would much rather have their mic time replaced with more Nice & Smooth bars.

I’ll Be Good To You – Michelob (whose name I became familiar with for the solid “freestyle” he spat on Funkmaster Flex’s 60 Minutes Of Funk Volume II) sprinkles spotless, warm, and tender R&B vibes all over this track. Love is in the air, as Greg Nice dedicates his verse to all the single mothers and his mom-dukes, who raised Greg without a father. Smooth B sounds like a slick Casanova running game on a chick who’s clearly scorned from her previous relationship (his game includes a little dirty mackin’ as he talks down on her ex), but maybe he has good intentions. The duo invites a male vocalist named Josiah to croon on the hook in an attempt to expand the Nice & Smooth female fan base. I’m not sure if the ladies liked this record, but I enjoyed it.

Let It Go – This is the Yin to the previous track’s Yang. Rich Nice loops up Brenda Russell’s “Piano In The Dark” to create a somber mood for our hosts to discuss the heartache and pain of walking away from love when you know the relationship is no longer good for you (or, in the case of Greg Nice’s last scenario, walking away from love and the crack rock). Cool concept, but I hate the chunky drumbeat placed underneath the sad sample.

Lockdown – This is pretty much a Greg Nice solo joint. Greg provides the vibey hook, and besides a quick eight bars that Smooth B sounds reluctant to spit (with three of the eight getting interrupted by Greg Nice), he does all the rhyming. The fellas sound decent enough on the mic, but the soulfully jazzy vibes in Paul Pistachio’s backdrop do the heavy lifting on this track.

Scared Money – The song title comes from the old financial investment adage: “Scared money doesn’t make money,” which means that if you’re not willing to take some investment risks with your money, it’ll be hard to grow wealth. Based on Nice & Smooth’s verses, I don’t think they fully grasp the meaning of the term, or they just completely lost focus on it when writing their rhymes for this song. I’ve always thought Aaron Hall sounded like Charlie Wilson, but he sounds like a Stevie Wonder clone singing the ad-libs and hook on this record that I never need to hear again.

Hot Shit – The horn loop gives the instrumental an aristocratic feel, and Smooth B must have shared my sentiment as he starts his verse off claiming to be “royalty.” Solid album cut.

Mad Love – Cool rhymes from our hosts, but Greg Nice’s boring beat almost lulled me to sleep.

Same Old Brand New Style (I Can’t Wait) – Thanks to Puffy and his Henchmen, I mean, Hitmen, sampling eighties pop hits became a thing in the mid-nineties. Sean Devereaux loops up the one-hit wonder, Nu Shooz’s “I Can’t Wait” for the backdrop that Greg Nice and Smooth B use to talk more slick shit over (Smooth B gets off what might be the funniest bar off the album with “I smoke chunky, I’m no flunky, my lyrical flow will knock needles out of junkies”). The record makes for decent filler material, but the guest vocalist singing the hook (Bernard Wright) sounds like he drank a fifth of Hennessy before he hit the recording booth.

Busta Rhymes Intro – Greg Nice calls Busta up on stage at a live show, and he showers N&S with kind words for their contribution to the genre. This leads directly into the next track.

DWYCK Live – It plays exactly as it reads, minus Guru’s verse (RIP), Smooth B being completely out of breath, and Greg Nice blasphemously replacing “Premier” and requesting that “Holiday” take them out with the fader. “DWYCK” is an all-time classic record, but there’s absolutely no reason this subpar performance should have been placed on the album.

In the late 1950s, a French electrician named Andre Cassagnes created a toy that placed aluminum powder in a red plastic frame with a flat screen and two knobs on the bottom of the frame that moved a stylus to write and draw on the screen. He originally named the invention L’Ecran Magique (French for “The Magic Screen”), but once the Ohio Art Company introduced it in the U.S. in 1960, it became known as the Etch A Sketch. The Etch A Sketch became a massive success, selling over 100 million units and earning a spot in the National Toy Hall of Fame in 1998. Six decades later, it remains a source of joy and entertainment for young kids, which is extremely impressive considering its simple design has remained virtually unchanged and continues to compete in a market flooded with technologically advanced toys. The Etch A Sketch is proof that staying steadfast and focusing on the fundamentals while most of the world is looking for the next hot trend can pay off. Nice & Smooth is hip-hop’s version of the Etch A Sketch, only way less successful.

Nice & Smooth’s names are seldom mentioned in the conversation for best hip-hop duos. And they might not be the best, but what they do together on the mic is severely underappreciated. The same formula they came in the game with in 1989 lives on for IV. Greg Nice consistently delivers animated, random one-liners in his cartoonish vocal tone that keep you amused, and his basic but effective call-and-response type refrains are the backbone to almost every record on the album (During “Hot Shit,” Greg even refers to himself as “the man with the hooks”). Smooth B plays Greg’s faithful and content wingman. He always lets his partner set things up with the hook and the opening verse before getting off his neatly packaged, well-articulated, simple yet potent bars, all delivered in his signature regal storytelling tone. None of the duo’s content is conceptually high-tech or complex, but their mastery of the fundamentals is entertaining to listen to for most of the project.

While Nice & Smooth’s chemistry and fundamentally strong brand of emceeing have always been intact, inconsistent production has plagued their catalog. Even with Greg Nice relinquishing most of the production duties, the inconsistencies remain on IV. There are three undisputed musical gems (the title track, “Boogie Down Bronx/BK Connection,” and “Lockdown”), but most of the rest fall into the decent category, with one very dull moment (“Mad Love”).

Unlike the Etch A Sketch, Nice & Smooth were unable to translate their sturdy fundamentals into 100 million units sold, but to their credit, not many rappers have accomplished that feat. Still, the duo’s fourth (and at this point, probably, final) outing is not a terrible listen. But it’s more simmering lukewarm than blazing hot.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Spice 1 – The Black Bossalini (Aka Dr. Bomb From Da Bay) (October 28, 1997)

Posted on 02/24/2026 by deedub77

As a forty-something-year-old father, husband, and productive citizen, gangsta rap doesn’t appeal to me like it did when I was a teen or in my twenties. I credit the change to maturity, morality, and just plain being tired of hearing rappers talk about money, murder, materialism, and magnetic mademoiselles. But there are still a handful of gangsta rappers that serve as an audio guilty pleasure for me. Spice 1 is one of those.

Spice 1’s self-titled debut album and its follow-up, 187 He Wrote, are often forgotten and overlooked classic gangsta rap albums. You’d be hard-pressed to name another gangsta rapper to have a stronger debut and follow-up than that combination. I’ve never listened to Amerikkka’s Nightmare (though I recently stumbled on a reasonably priced used CD copy, which I’ll be reviewing in the foreseeable future), but his fourth release, 1990-Sick, failed to live up to the high gangsta rap bar he set with his first two outings. Spice 1 would return in 1997 with his fifth release, The Black Bossalini.

The Black Bossalini would feature production from a handful of West Coast heavyweights, including Ant Banks, Paris, Hen Gee, Mike Mosley, and Rick Rock (not to be confused with Rick Ross), as well as a few lesser-known beatmakers. It would also feature cameos from some prominent Left Coast rappers that we’ll get into a little later. The album would climb to twenty-eight on The Billboard 200, but like its predecessor, 1990-Sick, it failed to reach gold status. Not only was The Black Bossalini a commercial failure, but it also received lukewarm reception from the critics, including a 3 Mic Rating from The Source.

This review marks my first time listening to The Black Bossalini. However, the slight step downward in the quality of 1990-Sick and The Source’s 3 Mic rating has me entering this review with some concerns. Fingers crossed.

The Thug In Me – Spice kicks the album off flexing his thug bravado and letting the ladies know that his gangster mannerisms will serve as a security blanket if they choose to roll with him (per the liner notes, this record is dedicated to Pac, whose influence you can definitely hear in the hook). S-P-I’s lyrical shenanigans are backed by Paris-programmed, semi-soulful keys and a vintage West Coast synthesized whistling melody. It’s an entertaining bop, but as I’ve mentioned several times in doing this blog, I like my hip-hop albums to start with high energy, which this track doesn’t have. Oh yeah, and Spice 1’s puny gunshot ad-lib (“Bloaw!”) lives on.

I’m High – Paris completely flips the script from the production he provided on the previous track. The prior smooth groove is replaced with pounding drums, a pulsating bass line, and an unsettling dark synth riff that makes you feel like something terrible is on the verge of happening. Spice takes a rare break from his normal gangsta jabber to roll up trees and get “higher than giraffe pussy” while a choir ensemble (credited to Da Old Skool) takes us to church on the hook, rejoicing over the herbal elevation (the sanctified keys that come in towards the end of the record almost make me want to shout “Amen!”). “Kick back, lay back, and throw them feet up/sometimes I wanna roll a whole fuckin’ tree up/I break it down, halves and O’s/smoking more than a broke down sixty-fo’/and ain’t no nigga in the world that can outsmoke me/the muthafuckin’ chronic addict. S-P-I-C-E/Bill Clinton hit the chronic, and he didn’t inhale/but I’mma cough a fuckin’ lung up for niggas in jail.” Post The Chronic, if you’re going to rehash (no pun intended) a subject as overly covered as smoking weed, make sure the rhymes are as entertaining as Spice 1’s and the music hits as hard as Paris’ brilliant banger.

Recognize Game – Spice is joined by two West Coast legends, Ice-T and Too Short, for a truncated hustler-player-gangster cipher, and all three parties show up prepared for the affair. Ant Banks scores the session with mysterious keys, suited for twilight hours, and discrete but funky guitar plucks (courtesy of PeeWee). Kokane’s swagged-out reimagining of a Gap Band refrain for the hook is the cherry on top of this underworld anthem.

Playa Man – Paris jacks and recycles the soulful seventies Smokey Robinson-sampled instrumental that he previously produced for a track with the same title (only “Playa” ends with an “er”) for a group called The D.E.E.P. Spice 1 uses it to share his perspective on the matter, and let me tell you, anyone who twirls the steering wheel of their Caddy with their middle finger, is indeed a certified player. This was fire.

Caught Up In My Gunplay – The moment I heard Marvin Gaye’s sampled voice from one of my favorite Marvin joints (“Anger”) to open this record, I got excited. Paris mixes Marvin’s smooth vocals with a pissed-off bass line, seething, semi-muted guitar licks, and cool drum claps to back Spice, who uses the track to exercise his heartless trigger (lacing a man with bullets in hopes of killing him more than once is another level of demented). Spice sells his murderous rage on this record, and Paris’ backdrop is Teflon tough.

Ballin’ – Hen Gee and Bobby Ross Avila craft a melodically zany musical bed that sounds more suited for a Broadway play than a canvas for Spice and his guest, Yukmouth (from Luniz), to jack and kill fools over (I don’t know if I should throw up the West side or jazz hands when I listen to this record). MC Breed (RIP) is credited as a featured guest, but all he contributes is a few ad-libs in between verses, and Kokane adds a few soulful harmonies and dramatic shrieks. Broadway vibes aside, I enjoyed the musical backing way more than Spice 1 and Yukmouth’s rapping (bars!).

Tha Boss Mobsta – Gangstas might not dance, but they’d definitely shoot and roller skate to this hard Clint “Payback” Sands-produced groove. Bloaw!

510, 213 – Representing The Bay and its 510-area code, Spice 1 connects with his 213-Los Angeles comrades, Big Syke (RIP) and WC, for this trans-California mob session. Some might find Mike Mosley and Femi Ojetunde’s G-Funk flip and replay of Stevie Wonder’s “That Girl” for the backing music cheesy, which I can understand, but I actually enjoyed it.

Kill Street Blues – The song title is a corny play off an old eighties police drama (Hill Street Blues). Speaking of drama, S-P-I creates his own violent version that includes a home invasion, two shootouts, dead bodies, a police chase, and guns that talk to our deranged host. I usually enjoy Spice 1 most when he’s in storytelling mode, but this script falls short of the glory of gangsta. Rick Rock’s G-Funk horror music falls flat as well.

Fetty Chico And The Mack – The second consecutive song to reference an old TV series in its title (this time it’s the seventies sitcom, Chico And The Man). Spice transforms into Fetty Chico, and Mack 10, aka Mack Manson, joins our host for this murder display (Mack 10 also displays his necrophilia tendencies during his verse). Mack 10 sounds unenthusiastic about the murders he’s committed, and his lack of energy must have rubbed off on Spice, I mean, Fetty, as his violent threats also feel halfhearted. To make matters worse, the hook is embarrassingly bad, and the Ant Banks-produced backdrop completely flatlines.

Wanna Be A G – This Rick Rock/Femi Ojetunde-produced track has similar Broadway vibes as “Ballin’,” only with a darker feel (it’s the Bizzaro version of “Ballin’”). Spice calls out all the player hatin’ “niggas and bitches” who can’t seem to keep his name out of their mouths (or his dick out of their hands). I wasn’t feeling the E-40-esque flow (whom he shouts out during the first verse) that S-P-I delivers his rhymes with, but the instrumentation was decent enough.

Diamonds – This one begins with a demonically distorted voice sharing a short pimp’s poem, before Spice delves into his pursuit of bitches, money, and diamonds, and of course, he touches on guns and gangsterism. I’ve never heard the name Ali Malek before reading his name in the liner notes as the producer of this track. He hooks up a banger that’s hard enough for the gangstas to mob to and sexy enough for the strippers to slide down the pole to.

Down Payment On Heaven – Back-to-back production credits for Ali Malek. This time he interpolates LeVert’s “Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop (Goes My Mind),” turning the quiet storm jam into a vulnerable platform for Spice to converse with God as he expresses regret for his murderous ways and gangsta lifestyle: “I often wonder what the game got in store for me, and if I die would my niggas go to war for me? Would I want ‘em to if I’m with you up in heaven? Would I forgive it if I’m where those evil demons be dwelling? I get caught up in the madness sometimes and lose my mind, lost in the drama, debatin’ if I should use my nine.” The fact that he begins the record quoting Bible scriptures and ends it with a prayer, thanking Jesus, makes his verses sound even more sincere. The Oakland duo Cydal (not to be confused with Dramacydal, who later morphed into Outlawz) takes the second verse and sticks with Spice’s “semi-repentant talk with God” theme, and they sound pretty damn convincing. Bryant Roberts plays Gerald Levert, cleverly putting a gangsta twist on the original song’s refrain for the hook. I enjoy listening to reflective Spice 1. This is easily my favorite record on the album.

2 Hands & A Razorblade – The album’s final track finds Spice chronicling the barbaric culture of prison life, live from inside the belly of the beast. Spice might not have been intentionally trying to, but his vivid account of prison is sure to detour some young knucklehead from heading down the path to land them behind bars. This would be great material for a Scared Straight program. Paris matches our host’s traumatic experience with a moody bassline and synth sounds that are dripping with despair. A great, and dark way, to close things out.

Founded in 1857, Borsalino is a luxury Italian hat brand, specializing in fedora-style hats. The Borsalino fedora was popularized in the thirties by Italian mobsters like Al Capone and Lucky Luciano, and through the years has stood as a signature fashion piece for mobsters. With the album title and artwork, Spice 1 pays homage to Borsalino’s gangster legacy, donning his own “black Bossalini” fedora on the album cover and carrying on his own gangster boss legacy with the music. If Al Capone and Lucky Luciano were brought back to life and transported to the Bay Area circa 1997, I’m sure they’d tip their Borsalinos to Spice after listening to this album.

Per usual, Spice 1 sticks with a gangsta theme throughout the album, but his body count seems slightly less than it was on his previous projects. His charisma, versatile flow, and uncanny ability to make words C-Walk keep his repetitive murderous messages from growing mundane, for the most part. Spice (and most of his guests, not named Mack 10) entertain with violent verses and hustler hoopla, but the production on The Black Bossalini bangs even more than our host’s gun. The album’s handful of producers score Spice’s thug jamboree with hard-hitting G-Funk bangers, melodic gangsta grooves, and handfuls of soulful vibes. There are a few dreary musical moments on The Black Bossalini (i.e., “Kill Street Blues” and “Fetty Chico And The Mack”), but most of the album is an enjoyable gangsta experience.

Spice 1 has been gangsta rapping since 1992. He’s released at least 16 albums to date, the latest in 2024 (Platinum O.G. 2). I’m sure at some point during my journey through Spice’s catalog, his thug theatrics will become tedious, and the musical quality will wane. But The Black Bossalini is not where that begins. It’s not nearly as stellar as his first two albums, but it’s a step up from 1990-Sick, and it’s left me eager to experience and dissect Amerikkka’s Nightmare.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Rappin’ 4-Tay – 4 Tha Hard Way (October 21,1997)

Posted on 02/10/2026 by deedub77

It’s fair to say that Todd “Too-Short” Shaw put the Bay Area on the hip-hop map. Armed with a monotone mouthpiece, rudimentary rap skills, pimp promo, and arguably the greatest adlib in the history of hip-hop (“beeaatch!”), The Oakland native created a buzz by selling tapes out of the trunk of his car. He would eventually get the attention of Jive Records, where he’d release fourteen projects in a twenty-year span, producing several hits, selling millions of albums, and cementing his legacy as a rap star. Short’s pioneering work would open the door for other Bay Area rappers: MC Hammer, Digital Underground, 2Pac, E40, Da Click, Spice 1, Dru Down, Celly Cel, Del the Funky Homosapien, Souls of Mischief, The Coup, Luniz, and the subject of today’s post, Rappin’ 4-Tay.

Hailing from San Francisco, California, Anthony Forte got his first major exposure on wax in 1988 as a guest on Too-Short’s “Don’t Fight The Feelin’” from his Life Is…Too Short album. Sometime after that, 4-Tay would fall into the street traps that, unfortunately, many young Black males do, and end up serving a ten-month prison stint on drug charges. After regaining his freedom, he returned to the booth and released his debut album, Rappin’ 4-Tay Is Back, on the independent label Rag Top Records in 1991. He’d eventually end up in a deal with Chrysalis, where he’d release his second and third projects (Don’t Fight The Feelin’ and Off Parole, respectively) before landing at Noo Trybe Records, where he delivered his fourth album and the subject of today’s post, 4 Tha Hard Way.

Coming into this review, my only exposure to Rappin’ 4-Tay was his cameos on a couple of Too Short records (see “Don’t Fight The Feelin’” and “Never Talk Down”), his guest appearance on Pac’s “Only God Can Judge Me,” and his “Playaz Club” single off the Don’t Fight The Feelin’ album. But those handful of morsels piqued my interest enough that when I see his albums in the used CD bins for a few dollars, I cop, and here we are today. Let’s jump into it.

Playaz Dedication – The track begins with a clip of Sway interviewing Tupac, who shouts out Rappin’ 4-Tay in the process. Then Les G’s somber synth production comes in for 4-Tay to emote the pain of losing a homie as he analyzes the jealousy and envy that fueled the fire for their early demises. It’s an odd way to start an album, but a solid record, nonetheless.

One Nite – The track starts with the sexiest wah-wah guitar licks I’ve ever heard on a hip-hop record (it’s the perfect motif to hear while a thong and heel-clad SZA stands before you). The beat eventually kicks in, and the wah-wahs remain (though they never sound as tempting as they did during the track’s intro), as 4-Tay spits game to a dame in hopes of a one-night stand. This was some cool player shit that I could appreciate.

Beats 4 Sale (Comm. Short) – Useless skit that sort of sets up the next track.

What’s Wrong Wit The Game – The omission of a question mark at the end of the song title is the artist’s error, not mine. 4-Tay is joined by his fellow Bay Area homeboy, and one of my least favorite overrated rappers, E40. The two swap verses addressing the issues with the rap game, which, in their opinion, boils down to overzealous rappers and producers, like the fella on the previous skit. Lyrically, E-40 sounds decent on this track; it’s his presentation that throws things off (i.e., mush-mouth stutter, sporadic shifting to a sloppy speed flow, and the random Tourette’s-like screams), making him nearly impossible to tolerate. But even if 40 was absent from the record, 4-Tay’s uninspired output and the lackluster instrumental would keep me from coming back to this track.

Money Makes The Man – This one starts with more ultra-wet wah-wah licks (which, even though the liner notes don’t directly credit him, I’m sure are courtesy of G Man Stan). Eventually, Mike City’s semi-drab production (that transitions to melodically enticing when the minor chord progression happens during the hook) comes in for 4-Tay and his guests, J. Mess and Sauce, to plaster with money worship and redundantly superficial player gloats.

Where You Playin’ At – Our host uses a slow-rolling, modestly funky Ant Banks-produced instrumental to show gratitude and brag about all the places and adventures hip-hop has allowed him to experience. It’s not spectacular, but it makes for a solid album cut.

Cold Blooded – If you’re going to remake an artist’s record, no better way to do it than having the artist join you on it. Rick James accompanies Rappin’ 4-Tay on this remake of his early eighties funk classic. 4-Tay’s salivating over some young tender, dropping cliche compliments and corny pick-up lines (the worst being “You’re like a recommended daily allowance”) while Mr. James sings the hook, ad-libs, and pieces of the original record. From the shabby laidback synthy music to James and 4-Tay’s performance, this record was hard to listen to.

Just Came Up – Another skit to set up the next song.

Back At Cha – Ant Banks slides 4-Tay some slick gangsta shit that he uses to warn any would-be perpetrators (bustas, creepers, sticky-fingered muthafuckas, punk bitches, lowdown dirty bastards, suckas, and cops) that if you try to take his, you will feel his heat. And I believe him.

Playa 4 Life – I mentioned earlier that I wasn’t a fan of E40’s rapping, but I absolutely despise Master P’s. Unfortunately, he and 4-Tay go back and forth on this track. The K Lou/Lettrel Evan-produced instrumental was passable, but 4-Tay sounds lackluster, and Master P manages to live up to my expectations.

What Fo’ – 4-Tay uses this one to call for peace, love, respect, and accountability in the streets, and he even calls himself to the floor with a repentant tone on the hook. Reflective 4-Tay, paired with synthesized blues, highlighted by magnificently mournful guitar play, easily makes this one of my favorite joints on 4 Tha Hard Way.

Ain’t Nobody Coachin’ – More playa propaganda, courtesy of Tay and his guest, Franky J. The duo uses Mike City’s Guy’s “Teddy’s Jam” interpolated production to bring attention to the ratio discrepancy of players to coaches, with the moral of the story being: “Don’t call yourself a G if you ain’t helpin’ nobody.” This track should have been left on the cutting room floor.

Brin’ The Beat Back – 4-Tay’s joined by another undeserving crony of his (Lil Fly) as the two split mic time, reminiscing and exchanging bland boasts. At least the fleet-footed guitar plucks in Premiere Music’s backdrop were enjoyable.

Lay Ya Gunz Down – Our host aggressively calls for all brothers to put their guns down and put an end to Black-on-Black violence over G Man Stan’s serious-toned instrumental. Great message, decent record.

The Biggie (Comm. Short) – 4 Tha Hard Way might have the most uninteresting skits in the history of hip-hop albums. Anyway, this one sets up the next song.

The Biggie – Reggae artist, Screwface, joins 4-Tay as the two, fittingly, pass the mic like a blunt and celebrate smoking ganja over a generic reggae riddim credited to The Producer Formally Known As C-Funk (which is a mouthful of an alias). By 1997, weed worship was already an exhausted subject in hip-hop, and this schwag record only makes the topic feel more draining.

Shake It – Al Eaton chefs up a Zapp-esque funk banger (the track also samples Zapp’s “Dance Floor” for its hook) for Tay and The Conscious Daughters, who are ready to party and sweat their collective perms out (Special One (RIP) gets off the sexiest bars of the night when she spits: “But at the party Fo’, I turns into a stank hoe, workin’ that nigga right down to the flo’, and in my limo it’s straight to the mo’, then I shake it”). All three parties give serviceable performances, but the rhymes take a back seat to the track’s stank-face funk and trunk-rattling bass line.

Element Of Surprize – The Producer Formally Known As C-Funk gets his second and final production credit of the night, this time cooking up a mysterious pimped-out space groove. 4-Tay invites a few more of his Bay Area homies (San Quin and Messy Marv) to exchange hustler hood soliloquies. 4-Tay sounds confidently sharp on the song’s final verse, getting off his best bars of the album: “Everybody’s got a hustle, even Bill and Hillary Clinton, shit, the whole White House is pimpin’, explicit lyrics wanted, for cussin’ and discussion that we be bustin’ over percussion, man, we just hustlin’.” This was fire.

Thinking About You – 4-Tay’s looking for a “Queen Nefertiti with all the trimmings” to come live in his castle until death do. G Man Stan reinterprets an early eighties Stevie Wonder record (“All I Do”) for the instrumental while a man named Carl Douglas croons about 4-Tay’s fantasy fem on the hook. For the most part, 4-Tay avoids the banal bars that this type of rap song tends to fall victim to. But C.D.’s singing sounds like a godawful, drunken Stevie Wonder karaoke session.

4-Tha Hardway – “Off parole” and “Fresh up out that Penzolla” (which might be the coolest slang term ever created for prison), our host sounds slightly angry and ready for war, be it rhymes or some real gangsta shit. I wonder if this song was inspired by a specific individual, because 4-Tay sounds sincere and locked in rhyming over the murder mystery-stained backdrop.

The more I do this blog, the more I realize that it takes so much more than just great lyrical ability to make dope records and a good album. One could have the talent to spew ferocious bars with incredible wordplay and tenacity, but still make forgettable records and a dud of an album. Then, there are others that may be lesser lyrically, but possess a special X factor that makes their music intriguing. Insert Rappin’ 4-Tay into the conversation.

Much like his Bay Area contemporary, Too-Short, Rappin’ 4-Tay is far from an upper echelon lyricist (though I would put his rapping skill set a few notches higher than Short’s). But the soft, raspy texture of his vocal tone and his straightforward approach to rhyming make him easy to like, or at least root for. On 4 Tha Hard Way, 4-Tay doesn’t reinvent the content wheel, as he sticks with the traditional West Coast hustler themes of chasing women, chasing money, partying, dissin’ player haters, and players he deems inferior; and of course, he includes a few obligatory hood social commentary records to balance things out. 4-Tay’s formula may not be unique, but unlike most players, you can feel that he genuinely has respect for “the game,” and looks to uphold its integrity (as contradictory as that sounds).

The music on 4 Tha Hard Way is a steady dose of Bay Area funk via immaculate samples and interpolation, synthesized sounds, and live instrumentation with tantalizing guitar riffs as its secret ingredient. With all the different hands in the production pot, surprisingly, the album has a unified sound that works for the most part.

I enjoyed most of the album’s production, and 4-Tay takes off on a few of the album’s tracks, and even when he doesn’t, his soothing vocal tone serves as a raw flute, adding an extra layer to the instrumentation. But there is still absolutely no reason 4 Tha Hard Way should be more than twelve tracks in length. There is not enough variety in subject matter to justify twenty tracks, and the redundancy is only magnified by too many subpar guest appearances. But his two previous albums were both sixteen tracks long, so maybe making long albums is just his forte (*rim shot*).

In the game of craps, “4 the hard way” means betting four and rolling a pair of twos, because it’s harder to do than roll a one-three or a three-one. Since “4 the hard way” is more difficult to hit, it usually pays higher as a prop bet (7-to-1 or 8-to-1), but rolling a three-one would still be a winning bet, just at a lower payout. With his fourth project, Rappin’ 4-Tay bets on himself and fails to roll a pair of twos, but pulls it off by rolling a three-one.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Salt-N-Pepa – Brand New (October 21, 1997)

Posted on 02/03/2026 by deedub77

The last time we checked in with Salt-N-Pepa here at TimeIsIllmatic was for their mammoth 1993 release, Very Necessary. Thanks largely to a platinum single (“Whatta Man”), a gold single (“Shoop”), and a third single that would earn the duo (sometimes, trio) their only Grammy Win (“None Of Your Business”), the album went five times platinum. Success for the ladies wasn’t new, as their previous three albums also received RIAA certifications, two earning platinum (their 1986 debut Hot, Cool & Vicious, and 1990’s Blacks’ Magic) and the other gold (A Salt With A Deadly Pepa). After all their hard work and success over those seven years, it was only right that they took a four-year break. SNP would resurface in October of ‘97 with their fifth release, Brand New.

The album title carried meaning, as this would be Salt-N-Pepa’s first album not released on Next Plateau. It would also be their first project without Hurby Luv Bug, whose writing and production were vital to the success of their first four albums. For Brand New, SNP would call on a handful of helping hands to sonically sculpt the album, and the ladies themselves would be more involved in the project’s writing and production. The album wasn’t nearly as commercially successful as their previous two projects, but it peaked at 37 on the US Billboard 200 and earned SNP a gold plaque, making them five for five with RIAA-certified albums.

Ironically, Brand New marks a new chapter for the ladies, but also the ending, as this would be the last album we’d get from SNP. I’ve never heard any of the tracks on the album, so this will all be…brand new to me. Corny dad joke, but I had to go for it.

RU Ready – Thank you, Salt-N-Pepa, for not wasting your time or the listener’s with a worthless album intro. The ladies get straight to business, proclaiming their return, doing a little boasting, and trying to get the listeners to report to the dance floor. Suspiciously, Salt and Pepa add a little Foxy Brown husk to their vocal tones, which might correlate to the Rene & Angela “I’ll Be Good” feel in Dr. Ceuss’ instrumental (Trackmasters sampled “I’ll Be Good” for the Foxy Brown/Jay-Z duet “I’ll Be” off her Ill Nana album). For some reason, SNP decided to interrupt their lady liberation party with a verse from some guy named Rufus Moore (aka Rufus Blaq), who adds nothing of value to the track. It’s not a great record, but the track’s glossy feel makes it an obvious choice for the album’s lead single.

Good Life – Dr. Ceuss creates a chilled atmosphere for Salt, Pepa, and Spinderella to rap about the luxuries their labor has afforded them (Pepa might be the first and only rapper to ever use maxed-out credit cards as a flex). The rhymes were passable, but I was more impressed with the buttery guitar licks (courtesy of Bernard Grobman), the sultry horn loop, and the catchy doo-wop/soulful harmonies of Alicia Rushing and Dawne Shivers on the hook.

Do Me Right – SNP uses this extra R&B flavored track (complete with crooning from the ladies that sang the refrain on the previous track and Joe Powell) to search for their Mr. Do Me Right. Spinderella joins her girls in listing the wants and attributes a man must have in order to get a taste of their “secret sauce.” I wasn’t crazy about this record, but I’m sure I wasn’t their target demographic.

Friends – The song title is somewhat misleading, as the record is not about friends, but more about snakes posing as friends. Speaking of friends, Salt-N-Pepa are joined by a few of their own on this track. Queen Latifah and SNP deliver verses expressing their disdain for these shady individuals. Mad Lion pops in, borrowing and remixing the O-Jays’ “Back Stabbers” hook, turning it into a rugged reggae chant. Pepa and Josef Powell are credited for the solid musical bed that recycles the never-dying and undefeated “Top Billin’” drum beat. Side note: The liner notes give Anthony Criss (known to the world as Treach) a writing credit for this song. I’m positive he penned his future ex-wife’s bars (Pepa), and it sounds like he might have had a hand in writing his Flava Unit leader’s verse as well.

Say Ooh – I didn’t realize how popular Larry Young’s “Turn Off The Lights” was in hip-hop until this blog moved into 1997. Dilla sampled it for “Fat Cat Song” (Fan-Tas-Tic, Vol. 1), Trackmasters looped it up for “Firm All Stars” (The Album), and now, Dr. Ceuss and Salt borrow it for this record. I didn’t care for the loop on the first two records and even less on this musical mediocrity that finds Salt-N-Pepa lusting for some man’s loins (although Salt expressing her thirst for the “essence of” his “manhood” did sound sexy as hell).

Imagine – SNP get in their John Lennon bag as they condemn the hate, prejudice, and racism that’s so consuming at times they can hardly breathe. Sheryl Crow drops by to lend her voice and stand in support of Cheryl and Sandy’s fight. I like the sentiment of this record, but the rhymes feel hollow, the faux-folksy funk instrumentation sounds cheesy, and though it’s hard to say it, because I love her “All I Wanna Do” record, Ms. Crow sounds really bad on this track. To add insult to injury, SNP’s closing hyperventilating adlibs sound more like orgasm moans than shortness of breath.

Knock Knock – Apparently, Salt and Pepa found the Mr. Do Me Rights they were looking for a few tracks ago. But time revealed they were really Mr. Wrongs, and our hostesses kick them to the curb on this record. Day Ta Day (the quintet that sang the hook for SNP’s hit record “Shoop”) play their male antagonists, begging the ladies for a second chance on the refrain and adlibs, but to no avail (is it just me or does it sound like Salt recorded her rhymes for this song in a bathroom?). SNP plays this one pretty well, and I love the uncredited, warm melody of EW&F’s “Devotion” in the instrumentation.

Gitty Up – This was the second single released from Brand New. Dr. Ceuss and Al West loop up Rick James’ funk classic, “Give It To Me Baby,” as Salt, Pepa, and Spin splash their sex appeal all over the track, turning it into a sexy dance joint (that occasionally gets interrupted by Rufus Blaq, again). Due to all of its contrived crossover energy, I feel like I’m not supposed to like this record, but for some reason, I bought what SNP was selling me.

Boy Toy – Dr. Ceuss & Al West are at it again, this time concocting a soft synthetic musical space for SNP and Spin to promote tricking on dudes in exchange for their time and good D. Hey, if the fellas can do it, why not the ladies too?

Brand New – For the title track, DJ Flex (not to be confused with DJ Funkmaster Flex) plays SNP’s hype man as the ladies remind anyone doubting them that even under new management, they still got it. I like hearing Salt-N-Pepa rap with a slight chip on their shoulders. Day Ta Day gives the duo vocal encouragement on the hook, and I enjoyed the familiar but funky Gary Wright loop that the instrumental is built around.

Silly Of You – Salt is credited for this bouncy bop that she, Pep, and their guest, Blue Denim, use to volley vocab over. They stick with the energy of the previous track: boasting of their dominance and speaking down to their haters. SNP handles the dope backdrop fairly well, but I was more impressed by Blue Denim, who sounds like a hungry, less lyrical female version of AZ.

The Clock Is Tickin’ – A band named Modern Yesterday lays down rock-tinged instrumentation that our hostesses use to urge anyone in a toxic relationship to get out of it before it’s too late. It’s a great message that doesn’t translate into good music.

Hold On – Earlier in the same year, Salt stomped with Kirk Franklin on his mega hit gospel record. He returns the favor on this track, joining Salt, Pep, Spin, and Minneapolis’ own, Sound of Blackness, for a little gospel rapping and choir singing. It makes for a decent, encouraging tune.

RU Ready (Remix) – This song is not listed on the back CD panel or in the liner notes, which, back in the day, we’d call a hidden track. The jam-session-style instrumentation is a lot more enjoyable than the shiny musical bed of the original mix.

Recently, Salt-N-Pepa were in the news over a legal battle with Universal Music Group for ownership of their masters. A judge dismissed the case, ruling that Salt-N-Pepa never owned the copyrights to transfer, as Hurby Luv Bug was the original contracting party. In a nutshell, the judge was telling Salt-N-Pepa, if they want their masters back, go talk to Hurby. There have been rumors and rumblings for years that Hurby and Salt-N-Pepa had a business fallout. I’d be willing to bet that’s why they parted ways after Very Necessary, and Brand New serves as their Declaration of Independence. Brand New also proved that, with or without Mr. Luv Bug, Salt-N-Pepa know how to make commercially successful, mediocre albums.

If you read TimeIsIllmatic regularly, you already know how I felt about Salt-N-Pepa’s first four albums. But if you don’t, a quick recap: All four were carried by big singles and supported by loads of lackluster album cuts, resulting in medium pleasant listens at best. Brand New would earn SNP another gold plaque, but only about half of the album is worth listening to more than once. The rest is filled with generic party themes (“R U Ready”), stale relationship topics (“Do Me Right,” “Say Ooh,” and “Boy Toy”), forced social commentary (“Imagine” and “The Clock Is Tickin’”), and hollow inspirationals (“Hold On”), backed by mid production, making for yet another medium pleasant listen.

Salt-N-Pepa are often referred to as the First Ladies of Rap. They will always be respected for their pioneering work as female rappers and for showing that an all-female act can move into the mainstream. They will always be loved for their handful of hit records (with a few mega-hits included). But one attribute missing from their legacy is a certified classic album.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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The Firm – The Album (October 21, 1997)

Posted on 01/20/2026 by deedub77

In 1994, Nasty Nas hit the earth like a comet with his classic debut album, Illmatic, which I still consider the greatest hip-hop album of all time. The self-proclaimed half-man, half-amazing Queensbridge emcee impressed with insightful streetwise poetry over vintage boom-bap beats, produced by an elite cast of producers. Illmatic was critically acclaimed, but not an immediate commercial success (it took nearly two years for it to reach gold status, and seven to earn a platinum plaque). For his second release, It Was Written, Nas (or the label, or both) was clearly focused on making a commercially successful album. He’d call on Trackmasters to bless most of the project with their glossy, radio-friendly sound, which proved to be a winning formula as the album went double platinum three months after its release. IWW also saw Nas splitting mic time with his newfound mafia boss alter-ego, Nas Escobar. On “Affirmative Action,” Escobar would introduce the world to his pretend mobster crew, known as The Firm.

The original formation of The Firm was Nas, AZ, aka Sosa, Foxy Brown, and Cormega, which is also the roster that appeared on “Affirmative Action.” The affirmative response to the track (pun intended) and its “The Symphony” beat remix would be the spark for a full-fledged Firm album. However, before they began recording the album, a roster change would take place. As legend has it, Cormega had a contractual disagreement with Nas and Nas’s manager at the time, Steve Stoute. Their squabble would lead to Cormega exiting The Firm, and Nas would recruit his fellow Queensbridge bredrin, Nature, to replace him. The Firm would call on some production big dogs, Dr. Dre (and his production partner, Glove) and Trackmasters, to craft the bulk of The Album. Side note: The cover artwork for The Album is a spoof of the promotional poster for one of my favorite mafia movies, Casino.

The Album was a blockbuster release that reached gold status, but the sales numbers were underwhelming for a project that featured Dr. Dre, Trackmasters, and Nas. Also underwhelming was its reception, as critics and the streets were torn on the quality of the project.

I haven’t listened to The Album in over a decade, but I remember it being mid at best. Hopefully, time has been kind to this vanity project.

Intro – Ominous music plays underneath a medley of news clips and a voice softly whispering, “The Firm.”

Firm Fiasco – Dr. Dre & Glove pick up where Trackmasters left off with “Affirmative Action,” painting another cinematic mafioso canvas via synthetic strings and a thumpin’ bassline. Sticking with the cinematic mafia theme, Nas, AZ, and Foxy substitute a conventional hook between the verses with allusions to a few narrated lines from Goodfellas (one of my all-time favorite movies; RIP to Ray Liotta). AZ kicks things off with a verse that displays his vast vocabulary, but he sounds like he’s chasing the beat (maybe if he came in when the beat dropped instead of letting half a bar waste away, he would have sounded more comfortable on the track). Nas shoots second, and he’s in his full Escobar mode (take that for what it’s worth). Foxy plays clean up and spits a verse proclaiming her extreme loyalty to The Firm: “Breed a son for ‘em/ long dick style/ swallow the enemy’s cum for ‘em.” Now that’s commitment. This was a solid way to start the album, but why the hell didn’t Nature get a verse on this one?

Phone Tap Intro – A quick skit that sets up the next song.

Phone Tap – This was the album’s second single. As the song title and the previous skit suggest, the feds have tapped Nas and AZ’s phones, and we, the listeners, get to listen firsthand to one of the duo’s conversations. For the most part, Nas and AZ (Nature also makes a small contribution) play it well, though they do lose focus a time or two (specifically Nas, who randomly feels the need to tell AZ that he’s getting high and vibing to an old Stephanie Mills cassette), and the ending was anticlimactic. I liked Dre’s slow rolling backdrop; the occasional sprinkling of that sinister out-of-key chord was brilliant.

Executive Decision – Trackmasters get their first production credit of the evening and create an elegant ambience punctuated by a sexy string loop. Nas, Nature, and AZ use it to talk their expensive drug dealer shit. I could be mistaken, but it sounds like Nature may have taken a few jabs at Jay-Z during his verse: “I had to learn not to fuck with small cats, in fake Cartiers and straw hats, stick ‘em on a mixtape, they think they all that, but just speedin’ through, never sounding reasonable.” The “fake Cartiers and straw hats” is a reference to Jay’s fits on the Reasonable Doubt album cover. “Stick ‘em on a mixtape” is aimed at Jay’s freestyle on Funkmaster Flex’s Mixtape Vol. II. The “speedin’ through” and “sounding reasonable” are shots at Jay’s early-era fast flow and the title to his debut album, respectively. I could be wrong, but I doubt it (*rimshot*).

Firm Family – Nature and Dr. Dre share the mic and talk fly shit over an infectiously breezy West Coast backdrop. Guest vocalist Traci Nelson sprinkles her pretty voice over the track’s hook, making an already pleasant audio experience even more enjoyable.

Firm All Stars – Foxy and Pretty Boy (whom I first became familiar with from his freestyle with Foxy on Funk Flex’s Mixtape Vol. II) share the mic on this one. I loved what Foxy did on her Funkmaster Flex freestyle, but she and Pretty Boy’s generic player antics and designer diction on this track nearly lulled me to sleep. The Trackmasters’ mediocre instrumental and Nas’ cheesy hook didn’t help matters.

Fuck Somebody Else Intro – A silly X-rated skit that sets up the next track.

Fuck Somebody Else – Foxy gets the first dolo record on The Album, and based on the song title, I bet you can guess what she’s rapping about. Dre & Glove interpolate The Jones Girls’ “You Gonna Make Me Love Somebody Else” for the backdrop, Traci Nelson turns their innocent chorus into complete filth, and Foxy uses her three verses to boast about giving up ass for cash and how good her pussy is. All her box-bragging does make you wonder if the nana is as ill as she says it is.

Hardcore – Trackmasters keep the low-hanging fruit sample choices coming, this time tapping Cheryl Lynn’s “Encore.” Nas sounds better than he’s sounded for most of the album, and Foxy…well, at least she tones down the raunch for one record.

Untouchable – While Sicilian Mafia music plays in the background, Escobar calls a team meeting, which quickly gets interrupted by a verse from Grand Wiz (whom I was only familiar with for the shout-out Nas gave him at the beginning of Illmatic’s “Memory Lane”). Wiz’s bars were solid, but I was more impressed by the cinematically tragic melody in the Dre & Mel-Man-produced instrumental.

Five Minutes To Flush Intro – Another skit. Sosa is in the middle of pounding something tender when the Feds come pounding on his door looking to bust him for dope. Question: If the Feds are doing a drug raid, would they make a courtesy knock?

Five Minutes To Flush – Dre & Glove remake the beat to Whodini’s “5 Minutes Of Funk,” and Dre gives Roger Troutman and his talkbox more work as they add some electronic seasoning to the hook. Nature uses the pristine funk to spin a tale about the Feds crashing his crib at 4am, hoping to catch him with his dope stash. Nate calmly paints a vivid picture of the stressful scene and adds a little humor to the storyline. This is easily one of my favorite records on The Album.

Desparados Intro – AZ gets another chance to lick his acting chops with this skit that leads into the next song. I literally LOL every time I hear Sosa say “Hector!”

Desparados – The track begins with soft Spanish guitar strums and Nas quoting one of my favorite movie lines (“Have you ever danced with the devil under the pale moonlight?” Shoutout to Jack Nicholson). Then the drums drop, and after Nas gets done reciting a mumbo jumbo refrain, Canibus emerges and continues his complete obliteration of every cameo he’s appeared on in ‘97. AZ and Nature follow with more Mafiiso propaganda, but it doesn’t come close to matching the moxie in Canibus’ bars.

Firm Biz – L.E.S. has made a production career out of using Captain Obvious-eighties samples, and this record is no exception. He taps Teena Marie’s “Square Biz” for the musical bed of what was The Album’s lead single. AZ, Nas, and Foxy continue to spew flossy mobster bars while the beautiful Dawn Robinson (formerly of En Vogue) puts a twist on Ms. Marie’s original refrain (Foxy’s dad advising his daughter to “keep the pussy tight,” but also telling her to “blaze that dick” if she decides to give up, is the wildest father-to-daughter advice that I’ve ever heard). It’s not a great record, but its glossy pop sensibilities make it a sensible choice for the lead single.

I’m Leaving – Noreaga (aka, Nore) and Nature take the listener on a riveting thugged-out adventure over the Trackmasters’ cracking drums and tense twangy guitar plucks.

Throw Your Guns – For The Album’s grand finale, Brooklyn newcomer, Half-A-Mill (RIP), teams up with fellow Brooklynite, AZ. Sosa holds his own during the middle verse (which might be his strongest performance of the night), but Half-A-Mill sounds as explosive as a twelve-gauge, leaving the Trackmasters’ hard backdrop severely damaged after letting off two rounds of heavy artillery.

After the USA Men’s Basketball Team took home a disappointing bronze medal at the 1988 Summer Olympic Games, the powers that be decided it was time to stop sending the college kids to compete in exchange for the pros. The 1992 Olympic squad, dubbed the Dream Team, was loaded with superstars: Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Karl Malone, Charles Barkley, Scottie Pippen, Patrick Ewing, and David Robinson (who was also on the disappointing 1988 team). Needless to say, the Dream Team smashed the competition and took home the gold medal, convincingly. Sending the NBA’s best to compete against the world would become the standard, and it was a successful formula, except for the 2004 team. Led by Tim Duncan, LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, Allen Iverson, and Carmelo Anthony, on paper, the 2004 squad looked built for success. But, like one of my favorite sports commentators, Chris Berman used to say: “This is why they play the game.” The same rules that apply to Dream Teams apply to hip-hop supergroups.

After hearing Dr. Dre’s underwhelming instrumentation on Nas’ “Nas Is Coming” from It Was Written, I was pleasantly pleased with the good doctor’s bounce back on The Album. His pristine West Coast sonics and the Trackmasters’ combination of low-hanging fruit eighties samples and clean interpolations wind up being a cohesively solid batch of goodies with only a few minor bumps in the road. With Dre and Trackmasters throwing a production alley-oop to a supergroup led by emcees with the lyrical prowess of Nas and AZ, one would think The Album would be a slam-dunk classic. But (in my Chris Berman voice), this is why we listen to the album.

Nature makes the most of his opportunity, and with his relaxed flow and lyrical clarity, he impresses with each of his appearances. I wasn’t expecting much from Foxy, and lyrically she never escapes the hamster wheel of poppin’ pussy for piety, profit, and Prada. The handful of guests who appear on The Album range from amazing to decent, with Pretty Boy being the exception. The biggest disappointment on The Album is clearly Nas and AZ.

Both Nas and AZ are lyrical wizards when they choose to be, but on The Album, the two never waive their magic wands. In fact, we never hear from Nas and AZ, only their alter-egos, Escobar and Sosa, who waste an album’s worth of quality production on unoriginal, regurgitated mafioso rhymes and redundant materialism worship. As creative a storyteller as Nas is, it would have been dope to hear The Album with a well-thought-out storyline and plot, which you can hear the potential of on records like “Phone Tap” and “Five Minutes To Flush.” But instead of getting a Mafia musical masterpiece, we’re left with a bunch of miscellaneous, mundane mob mythologies.

The 2004 USA Men’s Basketball Team would take home the bronze medal, which is commendable for some countries, but pathetic considering the high expectations and the talent that the US squad was loaded with. The Album isn’t a terrible listen, but thanks to Nas and AZ’s underwhelming performance, it’s bronze-worthy at best.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Gravediggaz – The Pick, The Sickle, And The Shovel (October 14, 1997)

Posted on 01/13/2026 by deedub77

Prince Paul may have got his start in the game as a DJ for hip-hop’s first unofficial band, Stetsasonic, but over time, he’s become one of hip-hop’s most underrated producers. Over the years, he has produced tracks for artists such as Stetsasonic, MC Lyte, Big Daddy Kane, Living Colour, Queen Latifah, 3rd Bass, Souls of Mischief, MF Doom, Gorillaz, and Run the Jewels. And while he has provided quality instrumentals for his extensive clientele throughout his career, his most valuable production attribute may be his conceptual genius. He was the brains behind De La Soul’s landmark hippy hip-hop debut,3 Feet High And Rising, which many credit as the pioneer album for hip-hop album skits. He also played a large role in the direction of De La’s second and third albums, De La Soul Is Dead and Buhloone Mindstate, respectively. He created cult classic concept albums like Psychoanalysis: What Is It?, A Prince Amongst Thieves, and Politics Of The Business. He’s also been the brains and part of some off-kilter vanity groups: The fictitious doo-wop group, The Dix, Handsome Boy Modeling School (with Dan The Automator), and, of course, Gravediggaz.

Gravediggaz began as a supergroup comprised of RZA (The RZArector), Poetic (The Grym Reaper), Prince Paul (The Undertaker), and his former Stetsasonic groupmate, Frukwan (The Gatekeeper). Their 1994 debut album, 6 Feet Deep, featured tongue-in-cheek death/murder themes over ominous instrumentals, giving birth to the hip-hop sub-genre, horrorcore. The liner notes for 6FD list Prince Paul as the project’s overseer, and he was responsible for most of the album’s production. 6FD wasn’t a commercial monster by any stretch, but it was a well-received conceptual piece that gave Gravediggaz a cult like following. They would return in 1997, with their sophomore effort, The Pick, The Sickle And The Shovel.

The first thing that stood out to me when reading The Pick’s liner notes was that Prince Paul is only credited for producing one track. RZA and his production cronies, True Master and 4th Disciple, are responsible for sculpting most of the album’s mood. The album produced two singles, making minor noise, but the critics gave The Pick mostly favorable reviews.

This is another first-time listen. I’m interested to hear how a Prince Paul-lite Gravediggaz album sounds.

Continue to rest in peace, Anthony “Poetic/Grym Reaper” Berkeley.

Side note: The CD version of The Pick (which is the format I own) comes with a snazzy four-flap fold-out insert that includes a pic of each member on one of the four flaps. I know most folks don’t care (I stay on my music nerd shit), but it’s another small thing you won’t get when buying the album on a DSP.

Intro – Over RZA’s lo-fi, wacky-sounding backdrop, he, Grym Reaper, and Gatekeeper welcome the listener to the album, reintroduce themselves (Gatekeeper makes it sound like Prince Paul died when he says “My man, Undertaker, in spirit with us”), and take turns talking in circles about the meaning and purpose of Gravediggaz. Now, on with the show.

Dangerous Mindz – This was the lead single. 4th Disciple loops up a somber acoustic guitar and sorrowful strings for Grym Reaper, RZA, and Gatekeeper to let their minds and rhymes run freely, firing off back-to-back-to-back verses with no interruption of a hook. The threesome sounds great, especially Reaper and RZA, spewing their randomness. This was fire.

Da Bomb – RZA sits this one out and lets Reaper and Gatekeeper spar over True Master’s solid production. Gatekeeper must have downed a Red Bull, as he sounds much more alert and energized than he did on the previous track, and Reaper continues to spit sharp bars.

Unexplained – Reaper and Gatekeeper give us another duet performance, building on their synergy from the previous track. Gatekeeper does his thing on the second verse, but Reaper is the early star on The Pick, as he continues his annihilation of the first three tracks: “Each word springs a cold current, that haunt niggas like old warrants, make an emcee life insurance.” Reaper’s dark and eerie backdrop was just as impressive as his bars (the haunted female voices placed over Gatekeeper’s verse sound incredible).

Twelve Jewelz – The RZA returns from his two-track smoke break, babbling on about resurrecting the mentally dead (he must have smoked the honey-dipped blunts that Reaper mentioned during “Dangerous Mindz”). Then, Darkim’s simple but effective instrumental drops, and RZA evokes his double time flow to get off a verse filled with Five Percenter equations and mathematics, capped off by a story about a wise but poor Sudan immigrant (he also gets a chance to list off the twelve jewels of Islam, hence the song title). I enjoy hearing RZA when he’s in his teacher/wisdom bag.

Fairytalez – Reap and Gatekeep turn a few children’s stories into socially conscious commentary while a young Kelis makes her first professional appearance singing the hook. The playful concept and the instrumental sound like a Prince Paul concoction, but the screechy string-loop-laden backdrop is credited to Goldfinghaz. This feels like something that could have gone on 6FD, but I still enjoyed it.

Never Gonna Come Back – Over Goldfinghaz’s gloomy backdrop, Reaper and Gatekeeper each share a sad story of losing their lady love to gun violence. I sure hope these aren’t true stories, and if they’re not, it amplifies how morbid their minds are to come up with this concept.

Pit Of Snakes – For only the second time on the album to this point, we get to hear all three members of Gravediggaz rhyme together. RZA kicks things off and sounds like a mad scientist threatening to “splatter your gall bladder” with “mathematical data.” Gatekeeper and Reaper follow, and while they sound good enough, this snake pit was clearly RZA’s playground. Which makes sense, considering he co-produced the possessed synth backdrop along with True Master.

The Night The Earth Cried – This was the second and final single released from The Pick. Reaper and RZA use their verses to address the past and present evil deeds of the white man inflicted on the Black man in this land called North America. Gatekeeper closes with a verse drenched in Five Percent teachings, which is what he uses to cope with the stress and racism the Black man continues to face in America. 4th Disciple and RZA blend haunting piano chords with tormented strings, resulting in a brilliant instrumental tailor-made for the song’s content. It’s an interesting choice for a single (especially during the blinged-out, jiggy era), but I dug it. And with all that’s currently going on in the United States today, it couldn’t be more relevant.

Elimination Process – This one begins with Grym Reaper receiving instruction from some devilishly distorted voiced being (played by one of the Aleem Brothers) to take control of the black hole perimeter and eliminate all the fake deaf, dumb, and blind niggas (aka meek, zombie ghetto dwellers) from the face of the earth (he also instructs Reaper to “preserve the niggettes,” which I found hi-larious). Then Reaper and Gatekeeper round out their makeshift army with Shabazz The Disciple (who sounds eerily similar to Ghostface Killah) and Omen to wage war and call out these race-killing Black devils. It’s not my favorite track on The Pick, but it’s listenable.

Repentance Day – Reaper concocts a horror movie score for himself, Killah Priest, and Hell Razah to give an unsettlingly descriptive account of the day of Armageddon. This was darkly dope.

Hidden Emotions – This one begins with a skit that shows street pharmacist, Jay Jackson, transforming from a heartless thug into a loving husband and doting father when he gets word his wife is giving birth to their son. Then, True Master’s ghostly, piano-riff-laden instrumental drops, and Reaper and Gatekeeper proceed to discuss the struggle for Black men to connect with and express their emotions. True Master also makes a rare appearance on the mic (I like what he did on “Medicine” from Guru’s Jazzmatazz Vol. II album), chiming in on the subject and summing up things best with his closing bar: “You need to let it out, ‘cause it could cause you bad health, hiding your emotions can rob you from yourself.” A hip-hop mental health record, decades before the subject became sexy.

What’s Goin’ On – RZA, Reaper, Gatekeeper, and RZA’s younger brother and Killarmy de facto leader, 9th Prince, put a spooky twist (thanks to RZA’s eerie bells and celestial choir sample) on Marvin Gaye’s soulful anti-war classic. Long-time Wu-Tang affiliate songstress, Blue Raspberry, lends her vocals to the track, adding additional flavor (pun intended).

Deadliest Biz – Reaper and Gatekeeper join forces for the last time on The Pick, issuing boasts and deadly threats to wack emcees. It was kind of uncomfortable hearing Gatekeeper jack RZA’s “Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing To Fuck Wit” flow, and his zany backdrop made this sound like something more appropriate for 6FD.

Outro – Prince Paul gets his lone production credit of the evening on this closing track. He hooks up pounding drums and an urgent, slightly demented piano loop, placing a collage of RZA, Reaper, and Gatekeeper soundbites over the backdrop to explain the Gravediggaz’s purpose and mission.

In 1950, Tennessee blues singer Stick McGhee recorded and released a record titled “One Monkey Don’t Stop No Show.” The song title was based on a popular term in southern Black culture, meaning the absence or antics of one person/clown shouldn’t stop things from progressing or proceeding for everyone else. When Cee-Lo Green decided to leave Goodie Mob (temporarily) after their 1999 third release, World Party, the remaining three members decided to title their fourth album after Stick McGhee’s signature record as a statement that the show must go on, and as a shot at Cee-Lo (the album’s artwork even features Khujo, T-Mo, and Big Gipp sitting with a monkey in a movie theater, which I’ve always found hi-larious). The Pick, The Sickle, And The Shovel proves that one Gravedigga don’t stop no burial.

From The Pick’s first track, you immediately sense a much more serious tone than the playfully morbid atmosphere that Gravediggaz operated in under Prince Paul’s direction on 6 Feet Deep. Musically, they stick with a dark production scheme, which is suitable for horrorcore hip-hop, but with RZA at the helm, the production sounds more Wu-Tang Clanish than Gravediggaz. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as most of the instrumentals are fire. I more so struggled adjusting to RZA, Grym Reaper, and Gatekeeper sounding nothing like the Gravediggaz we were introduced to on 6FD.

6FD found RZA, Grym Reaper, and Gatekeeper rhyming with dark twisted humor, but their witty punchlines, whimsical deliveries, and overall playful nature made it clear that their morbidness was just entertainment. The RZA-led Gravediggaz regime has little time for jokes, as they spend most of The Pick “digging up the graves of the mentally dead” with social commentary, Five Percent teachings, and discussing the world’s impending doom. The rhyming is solid (I was especially impressed by Reaper’s lyrical growth since 6FD), though at times, a lot to consume in one sitting. Ultimately, they sound less like Gravediggaz and more like another Wu-Tang Clan affiliate group, which is only compounded by guest cameos from Killah Priest, 9th Prince, Hell Razah, Shabazz The Disciple, and Blue Raspberry.

Even if Prince Paul was more involved on The Pick, I don’t think the gimmicky, dark humor approach used on 6FD would have worked a second time. Maybe Prince Paul knew this as well, which is why he stepped back and eventually away from the group. I enjoyed The Pick, but the group’s conversion from Gravediggaz to Archaeologists was unexpected.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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LL Cool J – Phenomenon (October 14, 1997)

Posted on 12/30/2025 by deedub77

Wow, I can’t believe how fast 2025 flew by! This is my last review of the year. I hope you enjoy the read, and I’ll catch up with you all in 2026. Happy New Year!

In today’s mainstream lexicon, the term GOAT gets thrown around way too often. If an actor gives one great performance in a movie, suddenly he/she’s a GOAT. If a ballplayer puts together a few good seasons, people are putting him in the GOAT conversation. If a rapper drops two hot singles, suddenly, the temporary buzz has him a part of the GOAT debate. GOAT status isn’t achieved overnight, but comes with longevity and a consistent body of work. LL Cool J coined the acronym to describe himself, and he definitely has the stats to back up his claim.

It’s been said that the Def Jam empire was built on LL Cool J’s back. From 1985 to 2008, he released thirteen albums on the label, and all but one of them (Exit 13) earned a gold plaque or better, with six reaching platinum status (Bigger And Deffer, Mama Said Knock You Out, and Mr. Smith all went double platinum). In 1987, he invented the rap love ballad with “I Need Love.” He has a handful of gold and platinum singles, a Billboard number one album (G.O.A.T.), a certified classic album (Mama Said Knock You Out), and enough classic records in his catalog to go toe to toe with any other rapper. Speaking of toe-to-toe, he’s also battle-tested, as he’s waged war with the likes of Ice-T, Kool Moe Dee, and Canibus. Then, when everybody thought his rapping career was over, he returned in 2024 to release the impressive comeback album, The FORCE (it’s probably my third favorite LL album). That’s a hell of a resume, and I didn’t even touch on his impressive acting career. In 1997, L was in the midst of his incredible run, releasing his seventh studio album (eighth overall, as Def Jam had released his greatest hits album, All World, in 1996), Phenomenon.

LL and the Trackmasters begin their musical relationship when the production duo produced the majority of L’s multi-platinum selling album, Mr. Smith. The relationship continues on Phenomenon as they’re credited with producing four of the album’s ten tracks. The Hitmen, Erick Sermon, L.E.S., Curt Gowdy, and Deven “Prestige” Vanderpool also receive production credits on the album. Phenomenon wasn’t as commercially successful as its predecessor, but it would earn Cool James another platinum plaque.

After 1993’s disappointing 14 Shots To The Dome, LL bounced back with the solid Mr. Smith album in ‘95. This review is my first time listening to Phenomenon in its entirety. Hopefully, it builds on the momentum of its predecessor.

Phenomenon – LL kicks off the album with the title track, which also served as the lead single. AMEN-RA of Puffy’s Hitmen loops up the bass line from Creative Source’s rendition of Bill Withers’ “Who Is He And What Is He To You?” for the backdrop. LL puts on his quiet storm voice, and rest assured, whenever you hear this tone, he’s rapping about some booty. He borrows a line from Melle Mel’s “White Lines” for the song title and hook as he turns on his player persona in pursuit of the panties (his opening line that mentions Pac, barely a year after his death, left me wondering if he had beef with the fallen rapper or just thought it was a clever line). This track was clearly groomed for crossover success and radio play, but I didn’t hate it.

Candy – L reminisces on a teenage love affair from the past that has now rekindled. Speaking of teenagers, Ralph Tresvant and Ricky Bell stop by to sing the hook, which includes a revamped portion of New Edition’s “Candy Girl” that they sang as squeaky-voiced adolescents. This was bad. LL’s bars are full of corny one-liners (my favorite being “In a world so sour, I got the sweetest love”), and Ralph and Ricky’s sappy contribution will make you want to laugh and vomit at the same time. I’m not completely upset with the Trackmasters’ flip of Alexander O’Neal’s “Sunshine” for the backdrop, though.

Starsky & Hutch – Todd Smith links up with Trevor Smith (aka Busta Rhymes) as the two play hot potato with the microphone for four minutes (based on the limited knowledge I have of the seventies television show that the song title is based on, I’d say Busta is Starsky and L is Hutch). Technically, the Smith boys’ bars were decent, but the whole record (including L.E.S.’s cheap, happy-go-lucky disco instrumental) felt like a bunch of contrived crossover bullshit. Pardon my French.

Another Dollar – Curt Gowdy (not to be confused with the legendary sportscaster) and Trackmasters are credited for this slickly brolic backdrop. LL channels his inner John “Goldie” Mickens (see The Mack) and spits flossy pimp shit all over the hard instrumental while Busta plays his hype-man. We, the listeners, become his audio hoes, falling for all his convincing game and bravado. I like this one.

Nobody Can Freak You – Shamelessly, LL tries to recreate the classic, ultra-sexy “Doin’ It” from Mr. Smith. He even brings LeShaun back to engage in more verbal intercourse. L & L turn their rhyme rumping into a threesome when Keith Sweat drops by to whine, or, um, croon the hook. This record misses badly. The Trackmasters’ instrumental is feeble, L and LeShaun’s exchange feels coerced (although her delivery of the “make your manhood shine like chrome” line did sound lustfully convincing), and Keith Sweat sounds more out of place than a Somalian at a Trump rally.

Hot, Hot, Hot – L spins a tale about an exotic hottie named Keisha, played by LeShaun (I swear, every brother has a Keisha in his past or present). What starts out sounding like another Ladies Love James player record ends up being a prostitution and escort prevention PSA with a cheesy Dr. Seuss-esque hook. L sounds right at home rhyming over D-Dot and AMEN-RA’s enjoyable Tom Tom Club loop, but his “positive” message was a little confusing, considering the pimp rhetoric he sprinkled all over the title track, “Another Dollar,” and “Nobody.”

4, 3, 2, 1 – This is the controversial Erick Sermon-produced posse record that would spark the beef between LL and Canibus. Along with yours truly, LL, the track featured the red-hot (at the time), usual cameo whore suspects, Meth and Red, a young and hungry DMX (RIP), and a ferocious lyricist who was hot as fish grease in ‘97, Canibus. Canibus’ original verse began with “Yo, Method, where the gods at? Redman, where the squad at? L, is that a mic on your arm? Let me borrow that.” The mic line was a reference to the microphone tattoo that L has on his left arm. LL wasn’t fond of Canibus’ request. In fact, he took it as a diss, which I think is ridiculous. Even more ridiculous was LL’s request to have Canibus redo his verse, omitting the “mic borrowing” line, to which Canibus obliged. But LL kept his verse, sonning Canibus in the process, and their war of words began. I like L bars on this record, but I still think Canibus had the strongest verse on the song. What do you think, and who do you think won the battle? Hit me in the comments.

Wanna Get Paid – LL shares three stories about three different street characters (Tyheem, JaQuan, and Yolanda), outlining their underworld follies and demises. He also invites his Queens bredrin, Lost Boyz, to take care of the hook and ad-libs. I can describe this record in three words: boring and uninspired.

Father – Trackmasters interpolate George Michael’s “Father Figure” for the partially dark, semi-emotional backdrop that LL uses to testify about the pain and turmoil he experienced as a kid, courtesy of his father and his mom’s boyfriend. To call this one a tearjerker would be an understatement. Thankfully, the gospel choir on the hook helps bring some kind of solace to L’s tormented testimony. I haven’t worked my way through all of LL’s catalog yet, but I’m sure this is the most personal and vulnerable he’s ever been on wax.

Don’t Be Late, Don’t Come Too Soon – Phenomenon ends with a hip-hop remake of Norman Connors’s smooth love ballad, “You Are My Starship.” Once again, LL’s trying to woo another past love interest back into his arms and bed with corny cliche love lines. Tamia plays his muse and sings the hook (hearing the ultra-clean-imaged Tamia sing “don’t cum too soon” felt weird and inappropriate). This was way too sappy for my taste buds.

LL Cool J may have coined the acronym GOAT, but Muhammad Ali was the first in modern-day history to proclaim himself as the greatest of all time. And like LL, he had the stats to back it up. He was an Olympic gold medalist, boasting a hefty fifty-six wins with thirty-seven knockouts. He won the World Heavyweight Title three times, defeated some of the best boxers of his era (including Sonny Liston, Joe Frazier, and George Foreman), and was a part of a handful of classic fights. He was just as much a champion outside the ring as he was inside. He was an activist who selflessly sacrificed his career (temporarily) to stand up for what he believed in and was a generous philanthropist. But in all his greatness, he still had five losses on his record. Phenomenon is another L for Uncle L.

The Trackmasters built their production legacy on sampling familiar seventies and eighties pop hits and turning them into easily digestible tunes. Along with Puffy’s Hitmen, they carry on the tradition for much of Phenomenon. Except for the Steve Arrington flip on “Nobody Can Freak You,” none of the low-hanging fruit samples sound terrible, but only a couple are worth listening to more than once. There are a few times (four to be exact) that Phenomenon’s production dares to delve outside of the quick pick sample realm, and that road is just as hit and miss as the former. Speaking of hit and miss, LL’s contribution is just as spotty as the production.

LL Cool J is one of hip-hop’s most charismatic emcees with a strong lyrical arsenal (which he displays glimpses of on Phenomenon) and an uncanny ability to adapt to hip-hop’s ever-changing terrain. His chameleon qualities have made him one of the few rappers able to make trendy, intentional pop records that feel genuine, and he’s done it for multiple decades. He’s never been afraid to show his tender side (as I mentioned earlier, he created the hip-hop ballad), and he spends a lot of time doing so on Phenomenon. I’m not opposed to love raps if they’re done tastefully, and Uncle L has provided us with several memorable ones (“Around The Way Girl,” “6 Minutes Of Pleasure,” “Hey Lover,” and “Loungin’,” to name a few), but he’s also given us some terrible ones to forget: “You’re My Heart,” “One Shot At Love,” and “Two Different Worlds.” This time around, his love records fall on the forgettable side, as they’re full of regurgitated, cheesy love cliches that sound inauthentic (those same attributes apply to “Nobody Can Freak Me”).

Sporting an ultra slim ten tracks, only about half of Phenomenon has any replay value. The vulnerable “Father” is the album’s crown jewel, and after that, there are only three other records, and a wild card, worth their weight in wax: “Another Dollar,” “Hot, Hot, Hot,” “4, 3, 2, 1,” and the title track, depending on my mood. Unless we’re talking three-point shooting percentages, fifty percent ain’t good, and the album definitely doesn’t live up to its title.

After a legendary run throughout the sixties and seventies, Muhammad Ali’s boxing career ended with two embarrassing losses in the early eighties. On October 2, 1980, he fought his former sparring partner, Larry Holmes, losing the Heavyweight Title by TKO in the eleventh round. And on December 11, 1981, he lost in a unanimous decision to Trevor Berbick. Ali was well past his prime in both fights. The lacklusterness of LL’s catalog post Mama Said Knock You Out has me wondering if he’s another GOAT that stayed in the ring way too long.

-Deedub
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Jurassic 5 – Jurassic 5 EP (October 13, 1997)

Posted on 12/23/2025 by deedub77

As I’ve mentioned before (maybe too many times now), shortly after Biggie’s Life After Death was released, I was completely out of the secular hip-hop loop for the next four years. During my break, I missed a lot of music. And there were also some catalogs and movements that I completely missed. Jurassic 5 was one of them.

Jurassic 5, ironically, was a six-man crew out of Los Angeles: Chali 2na, Akil, Soup, also known as Zaakir, and Marc 7 were the group’s emcees, while DJ Nu-Mark and Cut Chemist served as the group’s DJs and producers. The group name came from the mother of one of Chali 2na’s friends after he played one of their early records for her. She jokingly told Chali, “You guys think you sound like the Fantastic Five (as in the early eighties rap group, Grandmaster Theodore & The Fantastic Five), but you sound more like the Jurassic 5.” Bad joke, but the name stuck. Between 1998 and 2006, J5 released four albums, a slew of singles, and gained a cult underground following. But before all of that, they would kick things off with the Jurassic 5 EP.

Jurassic 5 EP was originally released as a nine-track project on the group’s independent label, Rumble Records, on October 13, 1997. It created a buzz and received positive reviews from a few reputable media outlets, which would eventually lead the major labels to knock on the group’s proverbial door. They signed a deal with Interscope in 1999, under which they would release their last three albums (Quality Control, Power In Numbers, and Feedback), but their first line of business with Interscope would be a re-release of their debut EP. The re-release would maintain the same track listing as the original, minus the final track, “Blacktop Beat.”

Through the years, I’ve found and purchased used copies of all of Jurassic 5’s albums, but have never gotten around to listening to them. Now, I officially begin my journey through their musical catalog. Hopefully, the music doesn’t sound as prehistoric as the group name.

In The Flesh – All four Jurassic emcees get off a censored verse (I’m sure the curseless edit was due to a sample-clearance agreement) over rugged boom-bap drums and a slick bluesy guitar loop. The hook and the elaborate bridge, chanted in unison, conjure up the spirit of the Cold Crush Brothers, giving the track a refreshing old-school feel. I like this one. I do have one question, though: Who is the fifth fleshly emcee that they mention on the hook?

Quality Control Part II – Cut Chemist and DJ Nu-Mark use an odd and obscure soundbite to speak on behalf of J5’s quality control process when creating albums. This was cute.

Jayou – Cut Chemist and Nu-Mark unleash the “Get Up, Stand Up” flutes on ‘em while the other Js “conjugate verbs and constipate nerds” with interactive rhymes and another intricate hook and bridge (rest in peace to the blonde baddie, Anna Nicole Smith). So far, we’re two for two.

Lesson 6: The Lecture – Cut Chemist throws everything, including the kitchen sink, into this five-minute-plus musical collage. The foundation is built around a hipster jazz piano loop and cool drums, but it takes several twists and turns along the way. It incorporates snippets of a man referencing the periodic table and chemical mixes, scratches, oddball soundbites (“Do you think that Led Zeppelin and Frank Sinatra would go together?”), exotic flutes, animated basslines, a few dope drum solos, a B-boy break, and four or five tempo changes. But no matter where it goes, it always works its way back home to the cool cat jazz piano loop it started with. I’m not usually crazy about this type of record, but this was really dope. It would have been perfect for DJ Shadow’s Endtroducing.

Concrete Schoolyard – Cut Chemist and Nu-Mark transform a gritty, southern-fried Ike Turner piano riff into a soulful groove for 2na, Akil, Soup, and Marc 7 to rock upon. The rhymes were cool (2na’s reference to Yul Brynner as Pharaoh in The Ten Commandments was pretty clever), but the instrumental was absolutely scrumptious.

Setup – Another soundbite interlude (it sounds like it came from the same source as “Quality Control Part II”), placed over soothing elevator music.

Action Satisfaction – Vocally, J5 continues to do what they’ve done on the other three songs: team rhymes and four-part harmony (by the way, I’m sure no one has ever mistaken Jurassic 5 for the Jackson 5). I like the dark grey, grimy feel of the track, and the Fonzarelli-cool bassline makes me want to get my pimp strut on.

Sausage Gut – My copy of the EP is the 1999 Interscope re-release. It ends with some guy making a phone call and spewing all kinds of randomness. It must be an inside joke, and since I’m outside, I didn’t find it funny. (The original release follows with “Blacktop Beat,” a mildly funky minute-and-a-half instrumental piece).

During the “Intermission” after “Can It Be All So Simple” on Wu-Tang’s classic debut album, 36 Chambers, Method Man tells the interviewer, in reference to his Clan, “We form like Voltron.” Voltron was an eighties cartoon about five space explorers who pilot five robotic lions (Black Lion (head and torso), Red Lion (right arm), Green Lion (left arm), Blue Lion (right leg), and Yellow Lion (left leg)) who combine and form the giant robot Voltron, who defends the universe against evil forces. I’m a Wu-Tang Clan fan (and I was a fan of Voltron back in the day), but I never liked the Wu-Tang-Voltron comparison. The Wu were nine (depending on who you ask, ten) individuals who rarely all rapped on the same track. Instead, you’d hear a few of them together on a record, spitting their own verses, glued together by a hook. They’re a legendary collective who’ve made a lot of dope records, but they’ve always felt and sounded like nine (or ten) individuals, never a whole. The Voltron comparison would be better suited for a group like Jurassic 5.

On their debut EP, J5’s “fossilized flavor” is on full display as they pay homage to the early eighties Fantastic Five/Cold Crush Brothers era with an updated version of their own interactive rhymes, detailed hooks, and unified harmony routines. From “In The Flesh” to “Action Satisfaction,” Chali 2na’s deep baritone and lyrical prowess make him the obvious standout of the crew’s four emcees. But thanks to the way J5 structures their songs, Chali’s individual skill set never sounds greater than the whole. Musically, DJ Nu-Mark and Cut Chemist provide the EP with a production bed reminiscent of nineties New York boom bap, only with less grime and a touch of nerdiness. The quirky interludes help paste the tracks together, and “The Lesson 6: The Lecture” is a highlight that serves as the EP’s incredible centerpiece.

I enjoyed the Jurassic 5 EP. It’s a nice introduction to the group via a few groovy tunes. But it did leave me curious about how their prehistoric unity would translate over a full-length project. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait 145 million years to find out (*rimshot*).

-Deedub
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Common – One Day It Will All Make Sense (September 30, 1997)

Posted on 12/02/2025 by deedub77

From its inception in the seventies to the mid-nineties, the East Coast, and later, the West Coast, had a chokehold on hip-hop. Thanks to the commercial success of artists like The Geto Boys, OutKast, UGK, and (though I hate to admit it) Master P’s No Limit label and roster, the South began to loosen the grip New York and California had on the game. Along with the South’s surgence in the mid-nineties into the early 2000s came a powerful movement from the Midwest. Detroit would give us Eminem, and Chicago would provide a slew of artists: Da Brat, Kanye West, Lupe Fiasco, Chance The Rapper, Chief Keef, and more of the younger acts: Vic Mensa, Juice Wrld (RIP), Polo G, Lil Durk, and G Herbo. But before all of these Chicagoan rappers had success, Twista and Common would put the city on the map in the early nineties.

Common already had two albums under his belt by the beginning of 1997. 1992’s Can I Borrow A Dollar? and his highly touted 1994 sophomore effort, Resurrection (which The Source would include on their 1998 list of Best Rap Albums of all time). He would return in the fall of ‘97, releasing One Day It’ll All Make Sense.

Most of you are probably aware that Common originally went by the alias Common Sense, but dropped the Sense due to legal reasons (a reggae band out of Orange County, California, sued him over the name and won). It’ll All Make Sense would be his first release with the Senseless alias. It would also be his last project released on Relativity, ending his five-year stint with the label.

For the album’s production, Common calls on a few usual suspects: No I.D. and The Twilight Tone. He would also begin to work with a couple of members of his soon-to-be-formed Soulquarians crew (Questlove and James Poyser) and received musical contributions from a few other musicians and beatmakers. Common’s first two albums had very few cameo appearances, but It’ll All Make Sense would be filled with them. The album produced three singles, and though it didn’t have great commercial success, it received critical acclaim from the major media outlets, and most importantly, love and support from the people.

Common is one of my favorite rappers. It’s been a minute since I listened to It’ll All Make Sense, so I’m looking forward to living with it again for the next few weeks.

Introspective – Over a dreamy, slow-rolling loop, Common welcomes the listener to the album, shares what he hopes to accomplish with the project, and does enough introspection that you start to feel like you’re his therapist.

Invocation – No I.D. loops up a couple of chilled and sultry guitar samples, which is the perfect setting for Common to wax poetic. He drops off a few jewels via clever metaphors and adds a little emcee shit talk to the mix as well.

Real Nigga Quotes – Our host switches to battle mood for this one (“rippin’ any muthafucka that steps towards” him). He gets off some solid lines but sounds a little bitter towards R&B singers, even though he’s used them himself on tracks (i.e., “Puppy Chow” from Can I Borrow A Dollar, and a few more pop up on this album). Dug Infinite’s lax horn-and-guitar loop, while decent, was an interesting choice to back a battle record. By the way, the shot he took at Immature (later known as IMX) and their bobs was hi-larious. The track ends with a snippet of a Farrakhan speech about the importance of Black families, setting up the next song.

Retrospect For Life – This was the album’s lead single. Common tackles the controversial subject of abortion from the perspective of a man who impregnated his lady. He ingeniously crafts the first verse as a written letter to the aborted baby (“You would have been much more than a mouth to feed/but someone, I would have fed this information I read/the someone, my life for you I would of had to lead/instead I led you to death/I’m sorry for taking your first breath, first step, and first cry/but I wasn’t prepared mentally or financially”) and the second verse is a conversation with his lady, who he apparently has gotten pregnant again after the abortion (“Happy deep down but not joyed enough to have it, but even that’s a lie, in less than two weeks we was back at it, is this unprotected love or safe to say its lust?”). Lauryn Hill adds adlibs and a soul-stirring rendition of a portion of Stevie Wonder’s “Never Dreamed You’d Leave In Summer” for the hook that may cause your eyes to well up. This record may not get the same praise as “I Used To Love H.E.R.,” but it’s a timeless masterpiece that belongs next to it. Common’s dad (Poppa Lynn) brings some levity at the end of the track with a hilarious voicemail about wanting to beat Jesse Jackson’s ass (shoutout to the legend).

Gettin’ Down At The Amphitheater – Common jumped on De La’s “The Bizness” (from Stakes Is High), so it’s only right that Posdnuos and Trugoy return the favor on this one. I’ll admit, this is one I’d fast-forward past back in the day. But today, the trippy drums and Scooby Doo mystery vibes in No I.D.’s bass line sound doper than I remember. I also slept on Trugoy’s opening verse. Pos may have been the dominant De La emcee, but Dave out-raps both his contemporaries on this one (rest in peace). This one ends with a funky Sly Johnson snippet. The clip felt random but was still pleasant.

Food For Funk – This is another track I didn’t pay much attention to when I first listened to It’ll All Make Sense. Common doesn’t rhyme with a metronomic pattern, which at times hinders his effectiveness on some beats. This is one of those moments. No I.D.’s instrumental is decent, and Common’s bars are solid, but his rhyme cadence doesn’t sync with the beat (the same thought applies to the previous song).

G.O.D. (Gaining One’s Definition) – Common and CeeLo Green join forces to discuss God, belief, and religion. As expected, the duo delivers meaty bars full of food for thought. I don’t necessarily agree with all their ideologies, but their theories are still intriguing to listen to. I usually love hearing the southern soulful vocal tone of Mr. Green on a track, but for some reason, his singing and the hook on this record were aggravating to listen to. Even more aggravating was the instrumentation, which sounds like some contrived inspirational music for a Disney movie.

My City– Common takes a bathroom break and lets his pal, Malik Yusef, get off a spoken word poem about a bunch of everything (you may recognize his name or his voice from his later work with Kanye, including the song ending poem on “Crack Music” from the Late Registration album). With Alvin Rogers on sax and Demetrions Kelly on bass, the two create a slow-rolling bluesy backdrop that gives Malik the space he needs to let his poetry flow. I’m not the biggest fan of spoken word poems, but this was pretty damn good. This track ends with a jazzy mash-up that I would have loved to hear for another thirty seconds or so.

Hungry – No I.D. pairs Common with an instrumental that sounds like Premo’s boom-bap meets RZA’s signature Kung-Fu movie production. Common’s performance lives up to the song title as the “verbal vegetarian” who “squashed beef with Ice Cube” eats No I.D.’s backdrop like it’s Thanksgiving dinner. This is definitely one of my favorite moments on the album.

All Night Long – The Roots turn a live jam session into a neo-soul groove for our host to let his train of thought flow freely down the tracks for four verses (FYI, Time To Kill is the first movie I can remember that moved me to tears). Erykah Badu stops by and helps her future boo out by singing the hook. It’s not a spectacular record, but it makes for a solid album cut. It ends with a skit of Common getting picked up by his homeboy at the airport after being out of town for a show. They head back to Common’s apartment, and the next track begins.

Stolen Moments Pt. I – Common discovers that his house was broken into while he was gone. Cue the pensively suspenseful music as he starts to gather clues (a drilled hole by the door lock, a roach left in the ashtray, and whoever it was had the audacity to bypass the beef left in the fridge to cook the chicken breast) to solve this hood Hardy Boys mystery.

Stolen Moments Pt. II – Part two of this melodrama is backed by elegant strings as Common’s anger rises when he accounts for all the stuff they got him for (a 31-inch TV (before you laugh, remember this was 1997), an Alpha Bailey jacket (which had a Donny Hathaway tape in the pocket that he wanted to listen to), a pair of new Iverson, and his furniture). He also makes a list of potential suspects: A) the homies he got high with before he left out of town, who also brought over some dudes he didn’t know. B) A neighborhood hype, aka crack head. C) A stripper he met at his homeboy Pink’s house (“thick, but his furniture wasn’t worth her body”). D) A friend who had a key to the crib that he’d let crash as his spot when he’s out of town. Black Thought joins in to hype up the situation at the beginning and ends it with a menacing threat to the “sucka nigga” that robbed his Soulquarian bredrin.

1’2 Many… – Common takes a break from tracking down the sucka nigga who broke in his crib to complaining about there being too many niggas in general. His rhymes were cool, Dug Infinite’s instrumental was pleasant, and Mista Sinista’s zigga ziggas were dope.

Stolen Moments Pt. III – At the beginning of part three of Common’s robbery suite, he adds a few more items to his jacked list: a VCR (remember those?), a PlayStation, and his Rockport boots. Through deductive reasoning, Common’s able to eliminate most of the suspects on his list (I wonder if the Durk he references (and had a key to his place) is Lil Durk’s dad; they’re both from Chicago, and he and Common have to be around the same age…hmm) and finally puts his finger on the offender, followed by a question, confession, and an ass whoopin’, courtesty of soundbites from King Of New York and Scarface. I love the lively violin loop the backdrop is sculpted around, and Q-Tip stops by to scold (at the beginning) and shame (at the end) the thievin’ sucka nigga, making way for yet another Tribe Degrees of Separation. Common is an underrated storyteller, and this three-piece miniseries is a testament to that skill set. The track ends with the most random clip of two winos discussing their signs, and they’re not talking about zodiac.

Making A Name For Ourselves – Canibus was a hot commodity in 1997. He delivered, arguably, the best verse of the year on Lost Boyz “Beast From The East;” and he would get major attention after appearing on LL Cool J’s cipher joint, “4, 3, 2, 1,” which would later lead to a fully cooked beef between him and Uncle L (that’s a story I’m sure we’ll discuss in the very near future). In between those two events, he stopped by to join Common on this rap duet. Common is a talented emcee, and he gives a valiant effort on this track. But he’s outmatched next to the lyrical prowess and tenacity of 1997 Canibus (“I’ll hit you in your chest so hard, your shoulders will touch” is crazy; and I have to remove Mr. Ill from the list of rare word usage as Canibus uses “mandible” during his second verse). Unfortunately, I hate No I.D.’s minuscule instrumental (that trips Common up badly during his second verse), and the two Cs prove that they’re not as “mathematically aware” as they think when they claim that squared is the same as doubled on the hook.

Reminding Me (Of Sef) – This was the album’s second single. Common takes a trip down memory lane, recalling some of his youthful folly and paying respect to his dead homie over a soulfully sweet backdrop. Chantay Savage stops by to sing the hook, which only makes things sound sweeter. I always have and always will love this record. If “T.R.O.Y.” had a light-hearted little brother, this song would be it.

Pop’s Rap Part 2/Fatherhood – Those familiar with Common’s catalog know that his dad closes out the majority of his albums with an improvised spoken-word poem/speech. Over smooth live instrumentation that yells “reflection” (courtesy of Alan Jay Palmer on piano, Billy Johnson on bass, and Karriem Riggins on drums), Lonnie “Pops” Lynn imparts some wisdom on his son about parenting by sharing the lessons he learned from Common when he was a child (Common was expecting his daughter at the time of this recording). It’s a heartfelt piece that hits the emotions a little harder now than it did back when I first heard it, for two reasons: I’m now a dad of an eleven-year-old son, and the fact that Poppa Lynn passed away over a decade ago. Continue to rest easy, Mr. Lynn.

Since the days of my youth, I’ve loved hip-hop with all my heart, mind, body, and soul. But that doesn’t mean I don’t grow frustrated with some of its characteristics. One of my biggest pet peeves with the genre is some rappers’ inability to mature on wax. Don’t get me wrong, I like my fair share of ratchet rhymes, but if you started your career in 1995 as a thug/drug-dealer rapper, by 2025 you should have moved on to bigger and brighter things and more constructive subject matter. Thankfully, musical maturation has never been an issue for Common, as he has shown growth with every album in his underappreciated catalog.

On “Invocation,” Common rhymes “growing into my britches, outgrowing these streets.” It’ll All Make Sense Common is far from the juvenile class clown with the cartoonish flow that we met on Can I Borrow A Dollar? On Resurrection, he rhymed with more substance and a little less childish banter. On It’ll All Make Sense, the talented lyricist walks confidently in his big boy pants, balancing food for thought, social commentary, storytelling, a little comic relief, and an adequate amount of boasting and bustin’ wack emcees’ ass. He also receives help from a host of guests (ten of the seventeen tracks feature a cameo) who add value to the listen, but you never lose sight of the fact that you’re listening to a Common album.

Common stays true to his Chicago production connects (No I.D., Dug Infinite, and The Twilite Tone) as they lay the album’s musical foundation on tasteful soul and jazz loops, supported by boom-bap drums. On his previous albums, Common flirted with live instrumentation (i.e., “Take It EZ” and “Pop’s Rap”), but this time around, he dives deeper into the live music realm. The blend of the live vibes with conventional hip-hop instrumentals sounds cohesive and pleasing to the ear.

While I wouldn’t call any of the tracks on It’ll All Make Sense bad, there are a few that wouldn’t be missed if they weren’t included on the album (three that immediately come to mind are “Food For Funk,” “G.O.D.,” and “All Night Long”). And at points during the album, Common’s somewhat dry voice and off-beat flow get swallowed up and lost in the music’s rhythm (i.e., “Amphitheater,” “Food For Funk,” and “Making A Name For Ourselves”). Even with those minor mishaps, It’ll All Make Sense is a dope album with plenty to enjoy and has held up well through the years.

Muhammad Ali once said, “A man who views the world at fifty the same as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life.” Based on his musical output, it’s safe to say Common has used his time on earth diligently.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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