Tracey Lee – Many Facez

Posted on 06/30/2026 by deedub77

Before hearing him rhyme on CRU’s “Bluntz & Bakakeemis,” I had never heard of Tracey Lee. But I like what I heard during the cameo, so a few months ago, when I came across a used copy of his debut album (Many Facez) for three dollars, I had to cop and hear more from the Philadelphia emcee.

Many Facez was released on Universal Records in March of ‘97. The album featured production from some of Bad Boy’s Hitmen (D-Dot Angelettie, Ron “Amen-Ra” Lawrence, and Nashiem Myrick) and cameos from the likes of Busta Rhymes and Notorious B.I.G. (ironically, Many Facez was released just two weeks after Big’s untimely demise). According to the Many Facez liner notes, Tracey suffers from split personality disorder, and all five of his personalities show up to rap on the album. There’s Mr. Lee (“the businessman”), LR (“the serious side of Tracey”), Rock (“the party animal”), Tray (“the ladies’ man”), and L (“the rhymer”).

Apparently, Tracey’s schtick didn’t work. Many Facez was a commercial failure, and Universal would cut ties with him right before his second album was set to be released (the album, Live From The (215), was shelved, but would eventually leak to the public). He released a few independent albums through the years, but they didn’t make much noise. Thankfully, Tracey had a bachelor’s degree from Howard University and a Juris Doctor degree from Southern University Law Center to fall back on as he’d become an entertainment lawyer taking on clients such as Eric Roberson, Kelly Rowland, Solange Knowles, and Kobe Bryant (RIP).

But today, Many Facez will be on trial. Let’s get into it.

Intro: T.R.A.C.Y. L.E.E. – The track begins with a sample of a woman’s voice being manipulated to melodically spell out “Tracey Lee” a few times over. Eventually, D-Dot’s nearly non-existent drums drop, which really weren’t needed, thanks to the ultra-gully bass line that carries the instrumental. Tracey uses D-Dot’s grit to get off a quick eight-bar warm-up verse, and he sounds pretty capable.

Many Facez – Rightfully so, Tracey Lee uses the title track to introduce us to all five of his personalities/alter egos. I like the energy in the instrumental (credited to Cedric Thornton), and the different personas gave me enough to be intrigued.

The Theme (It’s A Party) – D-Dot and Amen-Ra (with a co-credit going to Mark Pitts) craft a rugged banger for the album’s lead single. The liner notes say that Rock (the party animal) is best represented on this song, but Tracey’s Rock tone sounds a lot different from what it did on the previous track (fittingly, Rock does show up for the hook). Regardless of which segment of Tracey’s brain is at work on this track, the verses were serviceable. But it’s the bangin’ instrumental and energetic hook that carries this record.

Big Will – The track opens with some young hustlers pitching their product in front of the neighborhood deli, until the store owner shoos them away. From there, a dreamy Minnie Riperton-sample-driven instrumental drops (brilliantly crafted by D-Dot and Amen-Ra), and Mr. Lee reminisces about his rise from struggling street hustler to an American success story. Cleverly, Tracey’s ambiguous rhymes leave you wondering if he’s referencing the dope game, the rap game, or a combination of both.

Stars In The East – Michael Jeter (also known as KenyaFlow, one-third of the group One Step Beyond) flips an extremely delicious Jones Girl loop (I feel like I’ve been referencing their name in this blog a lot lately) for himself, L, and his OSB bredrin, Middy, to float on like sailboats, and they do it exceptionally. This track alone was worth the album’s three-dollar price tag.

Interlude: What Was Good About Good Times – Tracey and his guy joke about the irony in the title of the classic seventies’ sitcom. I definitely laughed during my first few listens to this one.

On The Edge – Tracey (I think his LR persona is rapping?) gets in his “woe is me” bag as he discusses his struggle to make it in the music industry, borrowing a DMC line for the hook. Unlike most rappers who grew up poor, feeling like they had no options other than to rap or sell crack, Tracey shares that he’s a college grad who chose to hustle (i.e., sell weed, use women, and get public assistance) rather than get a job during his pursuit to become a rapper. Please cue the world’s smallest violin. Speaking of violins, the somber beauty of a backdrop is laced with lovely emotional strings throughout.

Rugged One – LR gets off two solid freestyle verses over a unique flip of Rene & Angela’s “I’ll Be Good.” Shoutout to The Gooch, the greatest unseen television bully of all time.

Interlude: Who’s Crew – A skit that sets up the next track and fails to include a question mark in its title.

Who’s Crew – Tracey questions his friends’ loyalty over a laidback but strong blue-collar instrumental. I’d like to question the person who omitted the question mark that should have been placed at the end of the song title.

Repent – The clown deacon who shares a few opening words and the benediction on this track sounds like Redman’s government name/alter ego, Reggie Noble, but the liner notes don’t confirm or deny this. After the misogynistically foolish invocation, Mr., Dr., Pastor LR gives a two-verse sermon asking rappers who aren’t in the game for the love or the passion to repent over a muddy bass line, flat drums, and angelic church organs: “Fed up with all of you wannabe mobsters, selling your souls for Grammys when you shoulda got Oscars, for actin’, fuck the dramatics.” And the church said, amen.

Give It Up Baby – Casanova Tray is on the hunt for ass, and he invites Erika Kaine (not to be confused with Erica Kane from All My Children) to the party to flirt with and share a chicken head’s perspective. Tracey and DJ Parlay flip a familiar Michael Henderson loop with decent results, but the record as a whole was underwhelming.

Interlude: Airport – A silly interlude that may conjure up a chuckle or two.

The Professionals – This one begins with Tracey blowing the back out of some young tender (while a R&B singer hi-lariously dirty macks through song in the background on T’s stereo), before his sexcapade is interrupted by a phone call from a guy named Gooch asking Tracey and his crew to put a hit out on the industry (music industry is implied) for 20 million, to which they accept. Then Tracey and The Reepz (a trio composed of Pirate, Tru Born, and Feva) lay out the plan to take down the music industry’s “gatekeepers” and execute it (no pun intended) with precision. All four parties play this one well, and Pirate’s brolically cinematic backdrop is the perfect soundtrack for the affair.

Keep Your Hands High – I’ll be completely honest, and you can revoke my true hip-hopper card if you’d like, but I had no idea this song existed. All these years, I thought Jay came up with “Them rings and things you sing about, bring ‘em out, it’s hard to yell when the barrel’s in your mouth” (which T.I. would later use as the hook for his single “Bring Em Out”). Even The Buchanans’ instrumental that Jay-Z spit the borrowed Biggie line on (“What More Can I Say”) samples the same MFSB record that Ike Lee III used for this track (though The Buchanans’ use of the loop sounds way more epic). Big and Tracey go back and forth à la Biggie and Jay on “Brooklyn’s Finest,” but unlike “Brooklyn’s Finest,” the emcee duel doesn’t end in a draw. Tracey puts up a good fight, but Biggie steals the show, annihilating this track with his polished flow and incredible wordplay. This was fire!

The After Party (The Theme II) – Tracey revisits the lead single, which comes with refreshed bars from our host and a brand new, shiny Nashiem Myrick-produced instrumental. It also includes guest verses from Pirate (who sounds heavily congested compared to how he sounded two tracks ago) and the cameo whore, Busta Rhymes. It’s cool, but I prefer the O.G. mix.

Clue (Who Shot LR?) – LR has been shot, and Tracey’s on the case to find out which one of his identities committed the crime. D-Dot and Amen Ra provide the perfect ominous, murder mystery vibes for Tracey’s internal strife, but the story has too many holes, and quite frankly, the whole concept is kind of silly. End scene. End album.

For decades, mental health has been a taboo topic in the Black community. Only in the past ten to fifteen years has the tribe, as a collective, begun to acknowledge it as a legitimate issue that, in most cases, requires professional help. It’s a subject that’s been hard for Black men to admit they struggle with, and even more difficult for rappers in a music genre that promotes “macho posturing” and any signs of weakness are forbidden. The Geto Boys were ahead of their time when they got vulnerable and touched on the subject with their 1991 classic “Mind Playing Tricks On Me.” On Many Facez, Tracey Lee doesn’t advance the mental health conversation. Instead, he uses split personality disorder as a gimmick that fails. Yet, the album still manages to work.

The liner notes to Many Facez lead you to believe that you’ll hear from Tracey’s five different personas throughout the album. The title track does a solid job of presenting all five entities, but Tracey fails to provide character, depth, and real identity for his made-up alter egos thereafter. They all rap with the same cadence, skill level, and pretty much cover the same content. On a handful of songs, it even sounds like Tracey’s confused about which one of his personalities is on the mic, forgetting to put on the correct voice for the appropriate character. If done with strong attention to detail, Tracey may have pulled off the stunt, but his haphazard handling lands him flat on his face.

The production on Many Facez is impressive, and most of the instrumentals on the first half of the album are phenomenal. Tracey may have fallen short conceptually, but he proves to be a competent emcee, shining his brightest on tracks like “Big Will,” Stars In The East,” and “Keep Your Hands High.” And even when he doesn’t gleam on the mic, he’s still adequate, and the top-notch production keeps things entertaining when our host’s content may not be.

Gimmicks come with pros and cons. They can attract attention, increase appeal, and boost sales. But typically, they lack real intrinsic value or long-term usefulness. One can only wonder what Tracey Lee’s rap career would have become had he simply used his debut to introduce the world to Tracey Lee instead of five make-believe beings.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Murs – F’Real (March 10, 1997)

Posted on 06/16/2026 by deedub77

After well over a year and a half of working through the 1997 portion of my hip-hop vinyl and CD collection, an end is in sight. The next six reviews will be recent ‘97 additions to my collection. Then I can move forward. Or backward forward?

Murs is a Los Angeles-based rapper who came up in the mid-nineties on the indie underground rap scene as part of the LA-based collective, Living Legends. I first became familiar with his name for his collaborative work with Slug from Atmosphere (hometown talent), as the duo has released multiple projects together (four to be exact) under the group name Felt. I’m also familiar with a few of the records he’s collaborated with 9th Wonder on (he and 9th have a handful of joint albums). But years before he started working with Slug or 9th Wonder, he was making solo projects, including his debut LP, F’Real.

F’Real was released on the independent label, Veritech Records, in March of 1997. Most of the production was handled by W. Taylor, better known to the music world as Eclipse 427. He would also get some production help from a few of his crew members and a few other names I had never heard of before reading the liner notes in the extremely scaled-down CD insert. I don’t have verified data to back it, but I’m certain that F’Real didn’t sell enough copies to be certified wood, respectfully.

I found a used CD copy of F’Real just a few months ago at one of my spots. It’s a rare find, and since I’ve been unintentionally collecting Murs’ catalog over the past few years and the five-dollar price tag seemed more than fair, I bought it, and here we are today. This is another first-time listen for me. Let’s get into it.

2 Reasons – After a bizarre exchange during the intro, the first emcee you hear on F’Real is Murs’ Living Legends bredrin, Aesop (who sadly passed away last August at the age of 51), who gets off the song’s first verse. Murs takes care of the second and third verses, dissing Chino XL (RIP) on one (“hella wack metaphors sounding like Chino XL”) and his own crew on the other (“Not sayin’ I hate every wack emcee, see some of my best friends is wack”). Murs and Aesop’s vocal tones and deliveries sound very similar, but based on this track, Murs sounds like the stronger lyricist. Eclipse 427’s instrumental is minimally cool, but the low-quality mix makes it difficult to fully appreciate.

8th Samurai – The ominous chant and the sluggish drums of doom definitely set the mood for a sensei preparing for battle to avenge his brother’s death. Murs spits one verse that continues to highlight his lyrical ability, displays his unorthodox rhyme pattern, and exposes his struggle to rap on beat (but with a beat this slow, you can’t really blame him for being unable to find a rhythm). The poor mixing issue persists.

4 The Record – The static gets super thick on this track, but the endorphin-releasing bells in the loop put me in a zen-like state. Meanwhile, Murs sounds angry and aggravated, spewing venom at wack muthafuckas, lackluster blockbuster B-Boys, bitch-ass record haters, and Sway and Tech even catch a jab for allegedly not playing his music on The Wake Up Show due to industry politics (see verse three). He also gets off some pretty hi-larious punchlines: “Watch your whole crew collapse, like households that are introduced to crack,” and “Fuck with me, take a bite out of “Self Destruction” like “We’re All In The Same Gang.” This track is one good mix away from being a fire record.

BasikMurs – Murs and his buddy, Basik, each kick authentic freestyles (aka “off the top of the dome” rhymes), and both deliver acceptable bars. I enjoyed the calm melodic groove more than the rapping, though.

Interview With The Dominant – Murs interviews his buddy Kirby Dominant, who claims to be a porn star and a rapper. It’s more of a shit-talkin’ session than an actual interview, and the audio quality reaches new lows with this track.

Dominant Freestyle – Kirby Dominant and Murs exchange suffice freestyles over a forgettable backdrop.

M-3 (Anger) – Murs spits solid bars, but they get lost in his sloppy delivery and the dull as plastic knives instrumental.

Say Anything – Murs invites a few more of his Living Legends crew members to join him on this track: Bicasso (who just talks during the beginning of the record), The Grouch (the track’s producer), Luckyiam, and Arata (who spits a verse in Japanese and shares a hoarse horn solo) accompany our host for this six-minute-plus, mid at best, cipher adventure. The instrumental was mildly interesting, but the lighthearted flute break that comes in during the last thirty seconds of the record was soothingly enjoyable.

The Saint – For the first time on F’Real, Murs abandons the battle/freestyle theme and tries his hand (and pen) at a storytelling rap. The tale involves murder, heist, secret agents, and international espionage. It may sound interesting on paper, but the tale gets too convoluted, and Murs’ execution of the content doesn’t help matters. The cheesy Casio keyboard-quality production (credited to Tone) only makes the track harder to digest.

Morocco Mike – This one serves as a quick Murs bio clip. He recounts his struggle to finish high school (graduating with a 0.545 GPA is crazy!), getting kicked out of his mom’s crib, getting into a few riffs with the po-po and a dude he claims to have beat in a past battle and now he wants to kill Murs, which ultimately leads to our host moving from L.A. to The Bay by the end of the song. Once again, the instrumental is lackluster, and Murs’ testimony is about as interesting as watching paint dry.

NineFive – Murs discusses the importance of pursuing passions and purpose, and the dangers of settling and compromise. His well-thought-out bars are filled with gems, and the creamy lo-fi melodic instrumental was delectable.

The Maguire Song – Another storytelling rap. This time Murs raps about an aspiring rapper named Mike who, after grinding independently for years, finally gets signed to a major label, only to find out that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. So, he decides to cut it. This was much more entertaining than “The Saint” and “Morocco Mike.”

Live My Life – During the first two verses, Murs covers some of the same territory he treaded on “Morocco Mike,” while the third verse finds our host living and enjoying his life, current day. None of the content on this song interested me in the slightest, while the dark “Colors” like chords (shoutout to Ice-T) and the Zapp vocal sample set trip like Bloods & Crips.

Nites Like This – Over a playfully bouncy backdrop, Murs dedicates this one to all those nights when things don’t go the way you want them to. He puts a comical twist on the subject and leaves you with a word of optimism: “Remember, it could always be worse when you think it’s all bad.” But shame on Murs for having the nerve to criticize the soundman at his show for poor sound quality.

The Extras – Murs kicks this off by letting the listener know “This is the shit that you didn’t think you was gon’ get,” hence the song title. He’s joined by Big Texas and Evanessence, as they all deliver decent performances over a pretty solid Eye-3-produced instrumental.

Ease Back – Murs spews two sloppy verses over a pleasantly airy vibrating instrumental that he gives chase to but never seems to keep pace with.

The Sermon – F’Real ends with Murs sharing a few not-so-profound words about the definition of hip-hop music and seemingly defending Puffy’s “shiny suit” era in the process.

In the mid-nineties, mainstream hip-hop made a huge shift as some of the genre’s most prominent artists found commercial success spewing expensive designer bars and drug dealer/mafioso raps, ushering in the “shiny suit” era. But with all shifts, some go against the status quo; such was the case during the “shiny suit” era. Those who chose to uphold the organic tenets of emceeing and avoid the worship of materialism and excess (“material and excess” that most of those who rapped about didn’t even have) were labeled backpack rappers. On F’Real, Murs sounds like the quintessential backpack rapper.

On his debut project, Murs gets honest and vulnerable as he shares the intimate details of his life (from his mom kicking him out of her house to being a broke rapper), his jaded view of the music industry, and brashly calls out people he doesn’t fuck with. He’s a cerebral lyricist with range, able to hit you with a witty punchline, come right back with conscious content or a storyline, or do a little shit-talking. But with his focus mainly on the lyrics, the other attributes that come with being a dope emcee, like having a polished delivery and flow, suffer.

The instrumentals on F’Real range from dope (“8th Samurai,” “4 The Record,” and “NineFive”) to underwhelming (“M-3 (Anger),” “The Saint,” and “Morocco Mike”), and everything in between. But more troublesome than the uneven production and Murs’ disheveled delivery is the album’s shoddy mixing. The background static throughout F’Real is thicker than current-day Nelly Furtado, the mic and music levels are completely out of whack, and all the random distortion and moments of apparent tape-reel damage make the album feel like a bunch of lo-fi, underdeveloped demos posing as a proper release.

On “M-3 (Anger),” Murs raps, “If my style is too raw to be felt, then fuck it, it’s just the hand that I’m dealt.” Ironically, that double entendre is an unintended triple entendre that describes Murs and his debut full-length.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Various Artists – In Tha Beginning… There Was Rap (November 25, 1997)

Posted on 06/02/2026 by deedub77

Priority Records was a distribution company and record label founded by Bryan Turner, Mark Cerami, and Steve Drath in 1985. The Los Angeles-based label dealt with several genres of music, but it was a cornerstone in bringing West Coast Gangsta Rap to the world. It was responsible for getting landmark albums such as Straight Outta Compton, Eazy-Duz-It, No One Can Do It Better, Amerikkka’s Most Wanted, Death Certificate, and The Chronic into music shops and record stores across the country. The label had distribution partnerships with Ruthless, Death Row, No Limit, and Rap-A-Lot. Priority would also be responsible for distributing some of Roc-A-Fella Records’ early projects, including Jay-Z’s classic debut, Reasonable Doubt. Over the years, Priority has been associated with some momentous moments in hip-hop. And some not-so-momentous ones, like the subject of today’s post.

In Tha Beginning…There Was Rap is a twelve-track compilation project featuring some of the biggest names in hip-hop at the time, remaking classics and a few foundational rap records from the eighties. Despite receiving average to underwhelming reviews from critics, the album sold over 500,000 units in less than two months after its release, making it arguably the most obscure RIAA Gold-certified album of all time.

I didn’t know this album existed until I came across a used CD copy in the dollar bins at one of the record stores that I frequent. I bought it over a decade ago, and this review marks my first time listening to it. Curiosity made me buy it, but I must admit, I don’t have very high expectations going into this review.

Sucker M.C.’s – This one starts with Ol’ Dirty Bastard giving us an accapella sample of his signature drunk crooning (this time inflicting his enjoyable lunacy on Shep And The Limelites’ “Daddy’s Home”). Then a Wu-Tang-esque darkly cinematic loop drops, and Method Man and RZA get off a few warm-up bars, followed by a dusty soul vocal loop and a few more words from RZA. Then everything changes up, and RZA, Meth, and ODB give us a personalized rendition of Run DMC’s legendary record. The Wu trio does a decent job with it, but it serves more as a reminder of how hard the original beat was (shout-out and RIP to the underappreciated legend, Larry Smith).

Fuck Tha Police – Bone-Thugs-N-Harmony completely lose their identity on this remake of the revolutionary classic. No harmony or melodies, just the Thugs doing N.W.A. karaoke. This did nothing for me.

Big Ole Butt – Puffy and Lil’ Cease take on LL’s classic ode to ladies with immense posterior. The duo takes a few lyrical liberties to make the song their own while objectifying Keisha, Kim, and Lisa in the process. In our current climate, it was a little uncomfortable to hear Puffy talk about getting freaky and having sex with a seventeen-year-old girl, but Cease’s X-rated verse actually made me lol.

6 ‘N Tha Mornin’ – Master P takes on Ice-T’s pioneering gangsta rap record. I was never crazy about Ice-T’s version (and by the way, it hasn’t aged well), but hearing Percy fumble through his rhymes with horrible enunciation and a delivery so monotone he barely sounds alive was almost unbearable. The dramatic chord stabs between his half-hearted verses were a dope update to the original record, but his embarrassingly corny ad-lib (“uhhhhhh”) placed right after it almost ruined the one good quality in the track.

Freaky Tales – If you were going to make an album full of old-school hip-hop remakes in the nineties, you had to get Snoop to participate. He reinterprets Too Short’s “Freaky Tales,” putting his doggy swag (or wag) all over it, and thankfully, he shaves off five and a half minutes from the original. Ant Banks makes a few minor adjustments to the original instrumental to give it a current (at least by ‘97 standards) G-funk sound, and Snoop makes Short’s rhymes sound hysterically entertaining (the Lori, Michelle, and Beth tales keep me in tears).

Knick Knack Patty Wack – Kurupt and Daz pay homage to EPMD and their 1989 banger with this remake. Emanuel “Porkchop” Dean (must be a big nigga) freshen up the Joe Cocker piano loop a bit and K & D douse the track in enough DPG bravado that it almost feels like a new record. The only thing missing was a “pitbull terrier” ferocious K-Solo cameo (I don’t care if he spelled “bird” wrong; it’s still one of my favorite cameo verses). Without question, this is my favorite redo on the album.

Rapper’s Delight – Erick Sermon becomes the first rapper to appear on ITBTWR, who also has a remade oldie on the album. He’s joined by his Def Squad bredrin, Redman and Keith Murray, as the trio renovates the first-ever hit rap record. The Sugarhill Gang’s original mix was over fourteen minutes long, but thank God, the Def Squad cut the runtime in half. And it’s still too long.

I’m Still #1 – B-Real takes on a BDP staple. It’s decent, but no need to listen to it more than once.

I Need A Freak – Before this review, I’d never heard of Sexual Harassment (the group that is) or this record that Too Short (the second rapper to cameo on ITBTWR and have a revisited record on it as well) revamps. I listened to the original song on YouTube, and I must say, it sounded pretty corny. But the master of misogyny does a masterful job of making it his X-rated own and easily one of the most entertaining redos on this compilation.

Dopeman – Mack 10 covers his Westside Connection group member’s rhymes (Ice Cube) as N.W.A. gets a second nod on the album. Mack 10’s performance was mediocre, and though I miss the hard drums and the Ohio Players’ “Funky Worm” break used on the O.G. version, I did mildly enjoy the chill synth melody laid in this track.

Money (Dollar Bill Y’all) – Coolio covers Jimmy Spicer’s 1983 record, and living up to his name, it’s…cool. Rest in peace, Mr. Spicer and Coolio.

The Show – The Roots do a live remake of Doug E. Fresh and The Get Fresh Crew’s classic with Rahzel and Black Thought assuming the roles of Doug E. and Slick Rick. It’s not stellar, but The Roots do enough with it to make it sound sufficient.

Shoutout to Priority Records for paying homage to a few of the early hip-hop records that helped make rap music the billion-dollar industry it is today. In Tha Beginning…There Was Rap is a kind gesture to some of hip-hop’s pioneers and their music. But every kind gesture doesn’t bear good fruit.

Occasionally, on tracks like “Big Ole Butt,” “Freaky Tales,” Knick Knack Patty Wack,” and “I Need A Freak,” the artists give the original song new energy, turning their remixed reverence into refreshed relics that entertain. But far too often, the remakes sound like mediocre karaoke, leaving you yearning to revisit the O.G. versions or completely uninterested in the records altogether. There isn’t much essential listening on ITBTWR, but I’m sure it was a year-end tax write-off project that turned an unexpected profit for Priority.

I didn’t care much for ITBTWR. But I’m sure some young whipper-snapper out there, new to the genre in the late nineties, was compelled to go listen to the original records after listening to this album and, in doing so, discovered some legendary artists they may not have known about prior. Maybe Priority’s kind gesture bore good fruit after all.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Will Smith – Big Willie Style (November 25, 1997)

Posted on 05/26/2026 by deedub77

Will Smith is easily one of the most recognizable faces and names on the planet. After launching his acting career as The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for six seasons, he became a mega successful film actor with leading roles in blockbusters like Bad Boys, Independence Day, and Men In Black. He has starred in over 40 movies that have collectively grossed over 10 billion dollars worldwide. In 2022, he won an Oscar for Best Actor for his role as Venus and Serena’s father, Richard Williams, in King Richard. But years before he became an iconic movie star, Academy Award winner, and almost got canceled for the slap seen (and heard) around the world, he had a pretty successful rap career as The Fresh Prince.

Between 1987 and 1993, DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince released five albums on Jive Records. Three of the five albums earned gold certification (Rock The House, And In This Corner, and Code Red), and two went on to earn platinum (He’s The DJ, I’m The Rapper, and Homebase). The duo would match their commercial success with critical acclaim, receiving the first-ever Grammy Award for Best Rap Performance in 1989 for “Parents Just Don’t Understand,” and again in 1991 for my favorite Jazzy Jeff & FP record, “Summertime.” I don’t believe Jeff & FP ever officially broke up, but Hollywood came calling, putting an end to their run. But despite becoming one of Hollywood’s most bankable stars, the Fresh Prince still had the rapping bug. He would return to the rap game in ‘97 as a solo artist and with a new name. Well, sort of. Under his government name, he’d release Big Willie Style.

Big Willie Style would not only mark a new era for Will without Jazzy Jeff (although Jeff was still technically with him, as he received three production credits on BWS), but it would also be the first time he’d release music without Jive Records, starting his three-album run with Columbia. Led by Trackmasters’ production (they produced most of the album and served as the album’s Executive Producers), BWS would spawn four monster singles (more on that later) and reach double platinum status in less than six months after its release. By July of 2000, it was certified nine times platinum.

As much of a blockbuster release that BWS was, I’ve never listened to it, though I am familiar with the singles that were virtually unavoidable back in the day. Nearly thirty years later, and I’m finally getting around to listening to The Fresh Prince, I mean, Will Smith’s solo debut.

Intro – Jamie Foxx plays the role of aspiring news reporter, Keith B. Real (from Keep It Real Radio and founding editor of Keep It Real Magazine), who antagonizes Will throughout BWS. This is the first of several comedic “Keith B. hatin’ on Will Smith” interludes on the album.

Y’All Know – Mr. Smith warms up the mic in his new Big Willie persona, which sounds much more flossier than the content we got from The Fresh Prince. He gets off a few decent bars, but I was more fond of the bouncy and breezy backdrop, credited to Andreao Heard.

Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It – Trackmasters will always be a production enigma to me. They’ve built their sound on looping and interpolating low-hanging fruit samples with very little imagination. But sometimes the shit works, as with the Sister Sledge break they (and L.E.S.) use for this monster BWS single. The pop feel of the instrumental sounds tailor-made for Will’s lighthearted boasts and party posturing. It’s an innocent bop that you can throw on at any intergenerational kickback without anyone getting offended.

Candy – If you’re going to remake a classic, no better way to do it than to have the song’s original composers join in. Cameo makes a cameo (*rimshot*), singing the hook and sprinkling ad-libs over the track, while Will spills unoriginal pick-up lines and lusty cliches about a girl named Maxine, whom he nicknames Candy. Will’s charm almost sells the record, but then, the third verse rolls around, and things get really bad: In honor of Maxine’s nickname, Will name-drops a bunch of your favorite candies, and it ends up sounding like candy corn.

Chasing Forever – Mr. Smith gets sentimental as he shares this love poem with his newlywed wife, Mrs. Jada Pickett-Smith. Nas is credited as one of the writers of this song, and you can definitely hear his pen’s influence throughout Willard’s bars. Trackmasters and L.E.S. create a tender atmosphere that includes a beautiful piano riff from Stevie Wonder’s “Ribbon In The Sky” and Kenny Greene (RIP) from Intro (who also did a remake of the same Stevie Wonder classic that this song samples), and Trey Lorenz (remember him?) drop by to sing the warm chorus. With all the Will and Jada drama that’s played out in the public eye over the years, I wonder what Will’s thoughts are on this song today. Time is, truly, illmatic.

Keith B-Real 1 (Interlude) – Keith B. Real returns to hate on Will some more at “some Chinese Man’s theater.” He bumps into Jada and asks her a few questions about her husband before letting off a few inappropriate comments that lead to Jada smacking him. Ah ha! So it’s Jada who taught Will to smack comedians in the face if you don’t like their jokes.

Don’t Say Nothin’ – The Fresh Prince reunites with his long-time partner, Jazzy Jeff, on this one. The DJ (along with Keith Pelzer and Ryan Toby) provides a rugged background for the rapper to address his haters and naysayers, who never have anything nice to say about him. Will tries to sound unfazed by his detractors’ critique, bragging about his success and riches, but with rhymes like “My whole life I’ve been smilin’ when I felt like whilin’,” it’s clear the criticism bothers him. I would have liked to hear Will rhyme more from the honest chip on his shoulder and less from the inauthentic “I’m rich and unbothered” perspective.

Miami – Another monster single from BWS. This time, Poke, Tone, and L.E.S. loop up The Whispers’ “And The Beat Goes On” for the instrumental, and Big Willie pays homage to the city he calls his second home. It’s been rumored for years that Nas ghostwrote this song (and “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It”), which isn’t a far-fetched theory considering he’s credited with writing on two other songs in the album’s liner notes. Either way, it’s a sexy pop record dedicated to a sexy city, and it’s aged well.

Yes, Yes Y’All – It seemed super random to hear Sonny Cheeba from Camp Lo opening the record with a few words, but at least he sticks around to help with hook duties. Nas receives his second writing credit of the evening, once again making Mr. Smith sound smoother on the mic than he normally does. The Isley Brothers’ loop-constructed instrumental was pretty smooth as well.

I Loved You – Big Willie’s ex-flame has left him broken-hearted. He wrote a rap about it. Ya wanna hear it? Here it go. Will’s rhymes were decent, but Jazzy Jeff and the team’s guitar loop sounded stale, and the singing (credited to Ryan Toby and Valvin Roane) was horrendous.

Keith B-Real II (Interlude) – More shenanigans from Jamie Foxx until Charlie Mack once again puts an end to the foolishness.

It’s All Good – Willard gets off a plethora of corny bars on this track, capped off by the closing bar, which is also the album’s corn jewel: “My papa raised no fool, so many zeros on my check it’s like oooooooh.” For the instrumental, Jazzy Jeff interpolates an overly used Chic sample (“Good Times”), which is appropriate for Will’s subject matter, and he makes it moderately enjoyable by adding soothing melodic chords throughout the track.

Just The Two Of Us – This was another big single from BWS. Will turns Bill Withers’ classic into a heartwarming ode to his firstborn son, Trey. This is the kind of record I’d expect a matured Fresh Prince to make.

Keith B-Real III (Interlude) – One last Keith B. Real skit for the road.

Big Willie Style – For the title track, Tone, Poke, and L.E.S. create a smoothly elegant rhyming atmosphere for Mr. Smith to get extra “Willie” on (he’s not credited, but I’d bet a million dollars that Nas ghostwrote these expensive verses that include a shoutout to “Nas Escobar” and a hilarious image of Will with “a gold handle cane and matching gators”). Left Eye joins our host and gets off loads of lady-lavished lines to match Big Will’s. Both of their bars are filled with manufactured fluff, but I absolutely love the instrumental on this track.

Men Black – This song was originally released as the lead single on the Men In Black Soundtrack in the summer of ‘97 (it would also earn Will another Grammy in 1998 for Best Rap Solo Performance). Basically, Will raps on behalf of the character he portrays in the movie (Agent J), and explains the MIB’s mission (“Walk in shadow, move in silence, guard against extraterrestrial violence”). The Trackmasters borrow from Patrice Rushen’s “Forget Me Nots” for the “galaxy defending” hook and instrumental, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a flip of this loop that I didn’t like. It’s a cool record, but it shouldn’t have been included on the album because MIB has no relation to BWS.

On Big Willie Style, Will Smith sounds like a rapper trying to shed the court jester image he created as The Fresh Prince by adopting a more serious tone and using flossier bars. Willard spends a large portion of the project flaunting his wealth and luxurious lifestyle with help from Nas’s pen and copycat Jay-Z mannerisms. Unlike most rappers who lie about living expensively extravagant, I’m sure it was and still is a reality for Will Smith; the irony is it sounds inauthentic coming out of his mouth. But whether he’s Fresh Prince or Big Willie, Will Smith rhymes with charisma that will hold your attention, good, bad, or indifferent.

Will’s content on BWS may be a conundrum, but the production has clarity. The music behind Mr. Smith’s rhymes is a steady dose of pristine pop-esque instrumentals built around feel-good, familiar soul loops that suit WS’s cleanly suave image well. Needless to say, I enjoyed the music on Big Willie Style more than I enjoyed Big Willie’s style.

BWS made me think about one of my favorite quotes: “Change is inevitable. Growth is optional.” Tracks like “Chasing Forever” and “Just The Two Of Us” capture the once-class clown emcee showing maturity, and they feel like records of natural progression. But most of the album sounds like the hurt inflicted on The Fresh Prince through insults and criticism (that he addresses on “Don’t Say Nothin’”) has him following trends and covering his wounds with empty verses of opulence and a synthetic aura of arrogance. But let him tell it (as he does on “Don’t Say Nothin’), he’s “Will from West Phil, just slightly transformed.”

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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MGJ – No More Glory (November 18, 1997)

Posted on 05/12/2026 by deedub77

The main reason I started this blog was as a way to work through my ever-growing hip-hop vinyl and CD collection. I have thousands of vinyl and CDs, and have only listened to about a fourth of them to date. I felt that cataloging and listening to them chronically would help me work my way through it more efficiently. In doing so, I’ve found some musical gems and discovered artists through a cameo or a compilation project that piqued my interest enough to take a deep dive into their catalogs. 8Ball & MJG are one of them.

8Ball & MJG were a Memphis duo who came on the scene in the early nineties. I was familiar with the group by name, but with so many dope groups and great music consistently coming out at the time, some artists just slipped through the cracks. During my review of the America Is Dying Slowly project, I fell in love with a song titled “Listen To Me Now,” featuring 8Ball & MJG. After that, whenever I came across anything in the used bins with the duo’s name, I bought it. I also bought some of their solo projects, including MJG’s solo debut, No More Glory.

After their third project, On Top Of The World, climbed to number 8 on the US Billboard 200 and became their first gold-selling album, 8Ball and MJG decided it was time to work on solo projects. MJG would strike first, releasing No More Glory in November of ‘97. MJG would call on the in-house Suave House production team, Mo-Suave-A Productions (a collective that included Tony Draper and T-Mix), to produce the entire album, and he’d call on The Fedz and 8Ball for a few features. NMG peaked at 20 on the US Billboard 200 and, like OTOTW, it would earn Marlon Jermaine Goodwin a gold plaque.

I recently tracked down copies of all four of 8Ball & MJG’s first four albums (they’re out of print, so a couple of them cost me a pretty penny). I’m almost done with my 1997 reviews, and when I finish, my plan is to live with and review their first four projects before I start 1998. But in the meantime, I’ll begin my 8Ball & MJG journey with MJG’s solo debut.

Keep Your Mind – The album opens with sprinkles of fairy dust and guitar plucks that sound like they’re yawning and stretching to begin a new day, while MJG shares a few encouraging words to help the listener stay focused on their goals, no matter what life throws at you. Then, the low-key drums and the elusive bassline drop, and our host proceeds to spit a hood motivational rhyme full of jewels that sounds inspired by Romans 12:2: “I can’t get caught up with the dirt that’s in the air, the bitches in my hair, or the niggas over there…I had to make my own path through my math, understand I had to be sad before I’m glad.” MJG does a great job of delivering his uplifting message without sounding preachy, self-righteous, or corny. It’s a dope record, and a great choice to begin your day with some inspirational music.

Hip Hop Voodoo – Marlon transforms into a rappin’ witchdoctor, “throwin’ pepper” in his naysayers’ salt and sticking needles in dolls for his get back on his adversaries as he aggressively attacks the synthesized horrorcore score (was MJG taking a shot at JT The Bigga Figga with his “Ain’t no victory out here tryna be the bigger figure” bar? Hmm…). MJG’s bars were decent, but the haunting G-funkish chords in the Mo-Suave production were extra tough and easily the star of this track.

10th Grade Skit – This skit takes MJG back to high school, where his teacher shits on his dream to become a rapper. Sometimes others’ hate makes for great fuel to help you reach your goals.

Good Damm Man – Mo-Suave slides MJG a bluesy mash-up as he shares some of the ghetto morals he upholds and makes him such a good damn man (i.e, shooting the shit out of potential jackers and bitch ass niggas, and buying women dinner in exchange for poom poom). MJG tailors his cadence to match the ill drum kick that comes in at the end of each bar, adding some extra flavor to his southern slang. The soulful harmony from the crew of anonymous voices co-signing our host’s “good damn man” boast during the hook sounds so god damn good that I’m convinced Marlon’s claim is true.

Shine And Recline – 8Ball joins his partner in rhyme for the first time on NMG as the duo paints the brightly beautiful backing music with their own brand of pimp propaganda and tough-guy grandiosity. The duo’s chemistry is undeniable, and the track’s slick underlying bass line sounds amazing.

That Girl – Marlon revisits Stevie Wonder’s song of the same title. Like Stevie’s scenario, some young tender has MJG wide open. Unlike Stevie, who pledges his mind, body, and soul to his lady love, MJG grows weary of his fine femme’s games by the end of the third verse. Rodney Ellis karaoke’s some of Mr. Wonder’s lyrics and chorus from the original and serves it justice. It’s a decent hip-hop remake, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Stevie’s classic original.

Slippin’ – MJG puffs out his chest to jackers and stick-up kids, pledging “Ain’t no motherfucka takin’ the shit I worked fo’, see that’s the reason niggas get killed and hurt fo’.” MJG’s two verses of false sense of invincibility are broken up by a skit of a woman setting up some goofy chump whose thirst for pussy has him walk blindly into her trap. I wasn’t crazy about this one, but the live bass guitar licks kept me interested when the rhymes didn’t.

Take No Shit – Bun B and The Fedz join MJG as they collectively vow to take no shit from bustas or hoes. Bun spits the strongest verse on the song, calling out a dead beat dad who tricks on random treats: “It’s sad puttin’ hoes in cribs, take ‘em out to eat lobster, tying they bibs, and can’t take care of your kids, just left ya baby mama man, the bitch is doing horrible, go see ya lil’ girl, nigga your child is adorable.” I found it interesting that they chose to censor the “bitch” in “break that bitch” during the chorus but allowed every other curse word in the song to breathe freely. Mo-Suave blesses the affair with more killer bass guitar licks that are guaranteed to keep your face scrunched as if you’re recovering from a stroke.

Pimpin Ain’t Easy – An uncredited male voice sings in a faux-Marvin Gaye falsetto about how hard his occupation is, simultaneously trying to justify his line of work. The vocalist’s meager performance is backed by somber seventies-blaxploitation-esque music. There’s really no need to listen to this more than once.

Black Mac Is Back – 8Ball joins MJG once again as the rappin’ pimps proclaim their return, even though they never really left. Fittingly, Mo-Suave interpolates Curtis Mayfield’s “Give Me Your Love” from the Super Fly Soundtrack for the instrumental, doubling the audio pimp pleasure.

No More Glory – The title track finds MJG sharing his journey through the music industry and expressing his frustration (semi-hate) with rappers who take shortcuts. It’s not one of my faves, but a decent record.

What Is This – MJG questions (minus the question mark in the song title) what’s real and what’s fake in the ever-changing rap game, and he gets off some of his best bars of the night in the process: “Who would’ve thought that in the midnight hour I could exercise a pen? Bring the life to sound effects, feel the thunder and the wind, in sets of ten, I lift ya mind, strengthen up your weakened cells, generate your inner spirit, leave ya with some shit to tell, but still it seems all my dreams come with fuckin’ side effects, I thought I seen the worst, but I seen a damn thang yet.” The guest singer (that the liner notes don’t credit) sounds a lot like CeeLo Green, who would have sounded amazing rapping and singing alongside MJG over the darkly mysterious synth sounds. But even without CG, this is one of my favorite records on NMG.

Questions (Skit) – A bunch of reporters ask MJG a series of questions to which he simply replies, “No comment.” This is followed by the sound of cheers and flashing cameras, as a pensive guitar rumbles on in the background for forty-five seconds.

Don’t Hold Back – The pensive guitar riff from the previous interlude lives on for this track, accompanied by drums. The music’s serious tone had me believing MJG was going to touch on something with substance, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s blatantly honest to the objects of his erection that he simply wants to “dip in the sauce” (a bedroom marathon with a 6’3” Amazon sounds sexy as hell). He and the fellas that sing the hook, encourage the ladies to give it their all if they do take him up on his pussy proposition. Now that’s some smooth pimp shit.

Reflections – Over somber backing music, MJG (at least I think it’s MJG) shares a spoken word poem about time. It’s not completely horrible, but he’s no Langston Hughes either.

Hard But Fair – This record was hard to get into and fairly forgettable.

Middle Of The Night – MJG invites 8Ball back for the third and final time on NMG to spit rapid-fire player poetry over spaciously smooth, pimped-out instrumentation. This is easily my favorite record on the album.

When I saw that No More Glory was next on my review spreadsheet, I was a little apprehensive. As I mentioned earlier, I’m planning on digging into 8Ball & MJG’s first four albums after I finish reviewing the 1997 portion of my collection. My concern was whether a disappointing MJG solo album would dampen my anticipation for the group’s catalog. Thankfully, the album wasn’t a disappointment, so my anticipation is still intact.

On the album’s title track, MJG says he “got his knowledge from street college,” and based on his content throughout NMG, I believe him. On a few tracks (“Keep Your Mind,” “What Is This,” the title track, and the spoken-word piece, “Reflections”), our host displays substance and depth, but his righteous moments are severely overshadowed by ratchetness. MJG spends most of the album focused on his haters, hoes, and hood politics, and while the subject matter is far from original, his charisma, southern drawl, and understatedly slick way with words keep a chunk of his material sounding interesting. And for those moments when his ratchet gets redundant, the Mo-Suave-A Production Team will keep you entertained with the perfect blend of pristine synthesized music and live instrumentation with undeniably funky bass guitars as the strong foundation on which it all rests.

On No More Glory, MJG proves to be a sufficient solo artist. But based on the three album cuts that feature 8Ball (“Shine And Recline,” “Black Mac Is Back,” and my personal favorite, “Middle Of The Night”), MJG sounds much better when paired with his partner in pimpin’. With that said, NMG isn’t a great album, but there’s enough good music on it to satisfy my hip-hop appetite.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Timbaland And Magoo – Welcome To Our World (November 11, 1997)

Posted on 04/28/2026 by deedub77

By 1997, Timbaland was already an established music producer. He’d produced records for Jodeci, Usher, 702, and had production credits on the Above The Rim and Dangerous Minds soundtracks. He produced Ginuwine’s debut album, The Bachelor, and a large chunk of Aaliyah’s (RIP) One In Million album, and might I add, both projects went double platinum. ‘97 would see him producing tracks for Snoop Dogg, Babyface, the tantalizing SWV record, “Can We” from the Booty Call Soundtrack, and the entirety of Missy Elliott’s impressive debut album, Supa Dupa Fly. To this point, we’d heard Timbaland spit a rhyme and adlib on a few of the records he produced, but he was getting ready to take his little pastime hobby much further.

Timbaland and Melvin “Magoo” Barcliff met as teenagers growing up in Virginia. The duo was in a group called S.B.I. (Surrounded By Idiots), which also included two other guys, one you may have heard of: Pharrell Williams, who I also recently discovered is Timbaland’s cousin. S.B.I. dissolved before anything materialized, and Timbaland would proceed to blow up as a producer. But once he established himself in the game, he would reunite with his homeboy, forming Timbaland and Magoo, releasing their debut album, Welcome To Our World, at the tail end of ‘97.

Naturally, Timbaland would handle the production on WTOW, which would include cameos from his Blackground crew: Missy Elliott, Aaliyah, Ginuwine, Playa, and more. The album produced three singles, received positive reviews from critics, and earned the duo a platinum plaque.

I was far removed from the secular hip-hop scene when WTOW dropped. This is my first time entering Timbaland and Magoo’s world, and I’m hoping it’s a pleasant experience.

Sadly, Magoo passed away from a heart attack on August 13, 2023. May he continue to rest in peace.

Beep Beep – Timbaland introduces himself, talks a little shit, introduces a few of his crew members, talks a little more shit, and rambles on for over four minutes about absolutely nothing. At least he left a smooth groove for the listener to enjoy along the way.

Feel It – More solo Timbo. He spits what sounds like a patchwork freestyle over the course of three verses, which he proudly lets the listener know during the last verse was done without cursing (Gold star for Timbaland!). Tim’s rhymes were pretty bad (dude actually rhymes “jam” with “jam”), but the instrumental is full of his signature mobbable VA funk, which you can try to resist, but resistance is futile.

Up Jumps Da’ Boogie – This was the lead single. Timbaland, Missy Elliott, and, for the first time tonight, Magoo come together for this wild and zany cipher session, while the lovely Aaliyah serves as their hype woman, singing the hook. Magoo kicks things off, and I couldn’t help but immediately notice his vocal tone is similar to Q-Tip’s, only more animated. The trio goes back-to-back-to-back for two rounds, all using the same stuttering cadence throughout. Their rhymes give free-spirited mixtape vibes and their chemistry is alluring (and in a rap era where a lot of rappers were acting like money grew on trees, it was nice to hear Timbo show a little modesty when he asks his homeboy not to slam his car door because “it costs too much money to get that shit fixed, I need all my money to pay my bills with”). Tim scores the entertaining affair with wacky synthetic wah-wahs, mid-tempo drum claps, and a discreet yet lively bass line that suits the threesome’s rhymes perfectly.

Clocks Strikes – This was the album’s third single. Magoo and Tim tag team the mic, and it becomes crystal clear that Timbaland rhymes better when Magoo is present. Yet Magoo easily outshines his partner, thanks to his clever metaphors, similes, punchlines, a touch of self-deprecation, and a versatile flow. Tim backs their playful banter with an irresistible, layered backdrop full of soul and funk, and the dope background harmony only enhances this musical experience.

15 After Da’ Hour – Sticking with the “time” song title theme, Tim and Magoo each share a day-in-the-life narrative, centered on fifteen minutes after each hour. Magoo fares better with the concept than Timbo (who, at one point during his verse, embarrassingly continues to rhyme “fifteen” with “fifteen”), but ultimately it’s a miscalculated idea for both parties (so much so that Timbaland even acknowledges the concept is cheesy at the end of his verse). On the bright side, if you are willing to overlook the corny concept, the electric guitar loop will keep your face scrunched up while the strong drums sneak up on you and kick you in the face.

Ms. Parker – Quick skit. “I wanna hear that new song by the boot boy and the cartoon character” is hi-larious.

Luv 2 Luv U (Remix) – Over an instrumental that sounds like it could be the father to the instrumental for Missy Elliott’s “Freak On,” Timbaland and Shaunta exchange raunchy pleasantries. Magoo chimes in but never fully commits to the freaky theme, so instead of it being a threesome, it sounds more like Magoo watching Tim and Shaunta bump uglies. Regardless, I found Timbo and Shaunta’s pornographic paragraphs (more so Shaunta’s) enticing. I also enjoyed the hard beat (no pun), but it didn’t need to go on for three additional minutes after the last verse ended.

Luv 2 Luv U – As he should have for the remix, Magoo sits the O.G. mix out and lets the two lust birds (Timbo and Shaunta) verbally tear each other’s clothes off and go at it like wild animals (by the way, “Club Clit” sounds like an amazing place to hang out). The R&B trio, Playa, resurrects the chorus from Donna Summer’s classic “Love To Love You Baby” for the hook, while groovy drum claps and sexy strings set the mood for passionate love making, or hardcore fuckin’. Pick your pleasure.

Smoke In Da’ Air – Timbo and Magoo are joined by Playa, and the boys have nothing but women and weed on their minds. Or as Magoo so eloquently puts it: “You know we got plenty smokin’, hopin’ for pussy pokin’.” This is easily one of the least entertaining moments on WTOW.

Intro Buddha – The Boodah Brothers (Big B and DJ Law) were legendary hip-hop radio hosts on 103 JAMZ in Virginia back in the nineties and early 2000s. Sadly, DJ Law passed away in 2010, and Big B passed away in January of 2026. Timbaland gives them their flowers while they could still smell them on this track, allowing them to share a few words before he gets off a horrible verse over a darkish backdrop that barely registers (Tim says “My rhyme style” three times in a fourteen-bar verse, and what the hell does “My pockets get fatter than Jacob on twenty ladders” mean?).

Peepin’ My Style – Yet another Timbo solo joint. The backdrop is beyond tough, but the bars get pretty horrendous over the course of his three verses. Or as Timbaland felt the need to point out at the end of the song: “two verses, the first verse repeats itself.”

Writtin’ Rhymes – I believe they meant to title the song, “Writin’ Rhymes,” but whatever. Tim sits this one out (well, not really, he does add ad-libs), leaving Magoo to share the mic with Troy Marshall, whose rap voice and cadence sound eerily similar to Mos Def’s, though his bars aren’t nearly as potent. Both rappers sound decent rhyming over the pulsating drums and callous guitar loop. I could have done without the corny Mary J. Blige/K-Ci Hailey inspired hook, but it’s still a solid track.

Deep In Your Memory – This is Magoo’s lone dolo record on WTOW. He sounds hungry, locked in, and agile (at least for the first two verses, I don’t know what the hell he was doing on the last one), giving his best performance of the night over Tim’s bouncy backdrop with a marvelous guitar loop as its heart and soul. This is definitely one of my favorite records on the album.

Clock Strikes (Remix) – Like Busta Rhymes would do for the “Turn It Up (Remix),” Timbo builds this instrumental around the Knight Rider theme song. Tim sandwiches a verse in between two Magoo sixteens, which wasn’t necessary, as Magoo sounds great all by himself, dropping hysterical pop culture one-liners and witty punchlines (I literally lol every time I hear Magoo’s Coming To America reference: “His mama named him Clay, Imma call him Clay”). From the rhymes to the goofy hook, the duo sounds like they’re having a ball on this track, and the feeling is contagious.

Sex Beat (Interlude) – Timbaland tries to seduce the ladies with a few words (offering to lick toes while pulling off tight Girbauds) over some “take off your drawers” music. I wasn’t the target demo for this sexy interlude, but I dug the strings that come in during the mid-way point.

Man Undercover – Aaliyah takes the spotlight as she sings praises to her undercover man, which is not the same thing as a down-low brother. Missy helps with background vocals, and Timbaland spits a flossy throwaway verse that completely contradicts the low-key kind of brother Aaliyah describes during the song. All in all, this was a breezy R&B-flavored bop.

Joy – Sticking with the R&B mood, Ginuwine and Playa take center stage to croon the objects of their erections out of their panties. Again, Magoo gets overlooked for the rap verse, and Static Major (RIP) takes the opportunity to spit a generic, beyond pedestrian rhyme. Ginuwine & Company’s lyrics are full of cliche fluff, but their harmonic hook, combined with Tim’s airy, synthesized soul, sounds like a piece of audio heaven.

Up Jumps Da’ Boogie (Remix) – Magoo, Tim, and Missy join forces again to close out WTOW with a remix of the lead single. Timbaland’s groovable backdrop comes with new bars from the trio as well (Magoo arbitrarily dissed Madonna on the O.G. track, and Cindy Crawford catches a random shot on the remix). I like the instrumental on the remix better than the original, but the bars and chemistry were stronger the first go round.

Let me start off by saying, Timbaland is a bold-faced liar. During the intro (“Beep Beep”), he claims this is “Magoo’s album featuring me, Timbaland.” But a few good listens through, and it’s clear that this is a Timbaland album with guest features from his friends, which includes Magoo. Of the album’s first eleven tracks, Magoo only appears four times, and on two of the four records (“Up Jump Da’ Boogie” and “Luv To Luv U (Remix)”), he’s forced to share the mic, not only with Timbaland, but with another guest (Missy and Shaunta, respectively). Out of the album’s eighteen tracks, Magoo has one solo record. Meanwhile, Timbaland gets a handful of dolo joints and appears on every track. But whether it’s billed as a Timbaland & Magoo album, a Timbaland album, or a Timbo and friends album, it’s a thoroughly entertaining listen.

Timbaland will never be put in the discussion for best producer on the mic, and I’m sure he’s fully aware of that. Yet, on WTOW, he delivers his embarrassingly bad-to-mediocre-at-best rhymes with a playful confidence that makes them easier to digest. On the flip side, Magoo, who may sound like a Looney Tunes character, can really rap. His lighthearted rhymes are full of wit and comic relief, and his diverse palette of flows, unique voice, and charisma will hold you attentive for his lyrical hijinks.

What Timbaland lacks in lyrical ability, he more than makes up for with his beats. His secret weapon is his drums, which are almost always the dominant element in his production and often come with an exotic drum breakdown. Well-played synth sounds and dope funk and soul loops play a secondary role, but they all come together to form some pretty fire production from the VA representative (random thought: Pharrell vs Timbaland would make for an intriguing Virginia Verzuz).

The world Timbaland and Magoo live in on their debut album is free of gangsta babble, thug posturing, and material worship. Political agendas and overtly conscious messaging don’t reside there either. Only party themes, carefree fun content with small dosages of misogyny and objectification exist on their planet, all scored by gobs of Timbaland beauties and bangers. Welcome To Our World is a refreshing and impressive debut from the boot boy and cartoon character, and I’m thankful I finally got an invite.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Mic Geronimo – Vendetta (November 4, 1997)

Posted on 04/14/2026 by deedub77

The last time we checked in with Mic Geronimo here at TimeIsIllmatic was back in November of 1995 with the release of his debut album, The Natural. I was excited to finally review the album, thanks largely to his majestical single, “Masta I.C.” But my excitement quickly turned to disappointment as the album fell short of my high expectations. I must not have been alone in my assessment of the project, as its sales numbers also reflected my sentiment. Regardless, his label, TVT, would give him one more chance to redeem himself. He would release his sophomore effort, Vendetta, in November of 1997.

Vendetta would feature production from Pete Rock, Buckwild, Puffy and his Hitmen, Irv Gotti (RIP), Havoc, K-Def, and a few others. It would also include cameos from some pretty prominent names we’ll discuss a little later. But even with all of its star-studded support, Vendetta wouldn’t gain much commercial traction and received average reviews from the critics, including a 3.5 Mic Rating from The Source.

This is my first go-round with Vendetta. Hopefully, it’s a better listen than The Natural. The half-reality, half-animation album cover artwork looks pretty dope, so things are off to a good start.

Nothin’ Move But The Money – Without any familiarity with this album, the moment I heard Puffy’s ad-libs and the shiny-suit instrumental (credited to Diddy and one of the Bad Boy Hitmen, Prestige Vanderpool), I knew this was the album’s lead single, which was later confirmed with a little Googling. Mic Geronimo sounds like he’s auditioning to join Bad Boy with his flossy, slightly designer bars that don’t sound authentic at all rolling off of his tongue. To add insult to injury, Kelly Price (who always sounds great and apparently was Bad Boy’s go-to for harmony hooks at the time) sings a struggle chorus that kind of contradicts our host’s rhymes.

Vendetta – The title track finds Mic playing peeved, pissed off, and vengeful, as he issues violent threats to his adversaries. Unfortunately, he doesn’t sound the least bit convincing, but the darkly tense piano chords that the instrumental is built around (courtesy of The Legendary Traxster) sound incredible.

Survival – Havoc (from Mobb Deep) creates a gravely gully instrumental that our host uses to declare that he’ll never settle for just surviving, despite the song title. Once again, Mic’s rhymes ring hollow, wasting yet another really dope musical bed. I wish Havoc had sprinkled those amazing harp chords that come in at the end of the song throughout the rest of the track.

Life N Lessons – Mic plays the role of a common street thug having a conversation with God over the trife life he led. Unfortunately, the conversation is taking place after he was shot and murdered. The concept was cool, and Mic’s execution of it was decent. Irv Gotti’s backing music was solid, but something more dramatic or cinematic-sounding would have given his bars and storyline more life.

For Tha Family – Our host uses this one to pledge his allegiance and loyalty to his crew. Mic’s shoutout of Marley Marl during the track’s opening ad-libs led me to believe he produced it, but the liner notes credit the backdrop to Marley’s protege, K-Def. I love the clouded melody in the instrumental. The sample, along with the cowbell, sounds like something Premo would use.

Street Life – Mic does some self-reflecting, as he searches for answers to why he continues to play in the dangerous streets, knowing the potential consequences of his actions: “The evidence of circumstance, but still this black-hearted lifestyle I romance.” Monifah lends her vocals to the hook (a reinterpretation of the chorus from The Crusaders’ “Street Life” record), endorsing her host’s risky lifestyle. Chris Large flips an Atlantic Starr loop to create a sleek, sophisticated backdrop that clashes with Mic’s content, but it’s still tantalizing to the ear.

Be Like Mic – The song title and hook are a play off of Michael Jordan’s catchy Gatorade commercial jingle and part of the hook of R. Kelly’s mega hit, “I Believe I Can Fly” from the Space Jam Soundtrack, a movie that MJ also starred in. This track is the flossiest Mr. Geronimo has sounded on Vendetta so far, as he paints himself as a successful rapper living a life of luxury that other rappers wish they had. Though the hook is catchy, I’m not buying what Mic’s selling. Chris “Ju Ju” Whitney and P & Time’s clean, layered instrumentation translates to a tough groove that a more talented emcee would have devoured.

Unstoppable – Pete Rock was on absolute fire in ‘97. He had just laced Rakim with heat for The 18th Letter, including the brilliant “The Saga Begins,” and he comes right back to bless Mic Geronimo with this grumpy banger. PR’s music must have lit a fire in Mic as he sounds hungrier than he has on the previous cuts on the album. Or maybe the music is so fire it makes Mic sound better. Either way, this was tough.

Single Life – Irv Gotti jacks Cameo’s record of the same name, and Mic uses two verses to boast about his life as a manwhore. His buddy, Jay-Z, drops by, adding a lighthearted third verse with a heaping helping of infidelity and womanizing, and Carl Thomas gets his Larry Blackmon on during the hook, bridge, and ad-libs. It’s a super uncreative and forgettable record, but at least Mic can tell his grandchildren that Jay-Z made cameo appearances on his first two albums.

Things Ain’t What They Used To Be – Mic channels Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” (musically and lyrically) as he lists the societal ills in the hood and dwells on how bad things have gotten in these perilous times (“Crack babies retardedly born” sounds crazy, no pun). The Marvin vocal loop on the hook sounds sloppy due to the background music in the loop clashing with the rest of the music in the track. Still, the somber Prince Kasan/Royal Flush-produced instrumental was decent, and Mic’s effort on the mic was commendable.

How You Been? – The opening chords and Mic saying “Came to talk to you for a minute” had me thinking our host was about to get in his smooth Casanova bag and spit a love rap over the instrumental to Jodeci’s “Come & Talk To Me.” The music eventually transitions into a laidback, jazzy groove (conducted by Buckwild) that Mic uses to speak to the spirit of his deceased mother. Like contestants singing gospel songs on Amateur Night At The Apollo, you can’t say anything negative about a mama dedication record. And thank you, Mic, for putting a question mark at the end of the song title.

Usual Suspects – Mic Geronimo concludes Vendetta with a “soon-to-be crew of all-stars” cipher session: DMX (RIP), Ja Rule, Jadakiss, Styles P, and Tragedy Khadafi (aka Intelligent Hoodlum) join Mic on this thugged-out affair. I’ve never been a huge fan of DMX or Ja’s music, and their verses on this track didn’t move the needle. Jada and Styles’ back-and-forth was cool, and Tragedy and Mic’s verses were passable, but none of the six rappers spat anything memorable. Even Prestige Vanderpool’s pseudo-gutter backing music was average at best.

According to Merriam-Webster, a vendetta is a blood feud; an often prolonged series of retaliatory, vengeful, or hostile acts or exchange of such acts. I’m not sure if Mic Geronimo’s Vendetta was aimed at a certain rapper, record label, critics, or fans. But whoever the target was, I’m certain he didn’t get the vengeance he was seeking with this album.

Some of the same issues I had with Mic’s performance on The Natural persist on Vendetta. Technically, Mic’s a decent rapper. He sounds competent on the mic, rhyming with efficient verbiage and a touch of the same Queens swagger some of his fellow borough mates had. Yet, unlike Nas or Prodigy, his rhymes rarely translate to fire bars. His delivery almost feels mechanical, rendering his rhymes spiritless and soulless, causing me to lose focus and drift off, thinking about the body wash I need to pick up on my next Walmart run. On the bright side, the production on Vendetta is much more consistent than his rookie campaign. The album’s handful of producers lace Mic with large amounts of heat, but not enough heat to make his rhymes reach a temperature beyond lukewarm.

On “Survival,” Mic raps, “My fascination with this art of words, turned to art of war, put a little more into it, try to blow for sure.” I interpret that bar as Mic acknowledging that his passion (fascination) for rap changed from just being a passion to an obsessive battle (war) to become successful in the rap game. Earlier on the same song, he raps about “seeing the fire inside of his eyes,” which is where I believe the problem lies. On Vendetta, you never hear that fire in Mic. Maybe that fire was smothered by his obsession with success, and time has shown us how that battle fared for our friend.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Rakim – The 18th Letter (November 4, 1997)

Posted on 04/07/2026 by deedub77

Between 1987 and 1992, Eric B & Rakim released four celebrated albums (two of which earned gold plaques, and one would reach platinum status), which included numerous hit records and several memorable quotables from Rakim. The duo’s work would cement their legacy as hip-hop legends, and Rakim’s otherworldly, ahead-of-his-time rhyming ability would earn him the title of god emcee. But like all good things, their run would come to an end. In 1992, the duo’s business disputes, contract disagreements, and legal friction would send them their separate ways. The contractual disagreements would keep Rakim musically silenced for five more years. Eventually, he’d get his release from MCA, sign with Universal, and release his debut solo album, aptly titled The 18th Letter.

The 18th Letter would feature production from some of hip-hop’s cream of the crop producers (DJ Premier, Pete Rock, and DJ Clark Kent (RIP)) and contributions from a few other formidable and up-and-coming names that we’ll discuss a little later. And fittingly, The Microphone Soloist doesn’t share his mic with any guest rappers on the album. The 18th Letter was showered with critical acclaim from the streets and critics. It would climb to number four on the Billboard Top 200 (number one on the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Album Charts), and earn the god emcee another gold plaque.

I haven’t listened to The 18th Letter from beginning to end in over a decade, but I’m definitely looking forward to re-experiencing the official debut solo album from the god emcee, and I’ll take a god over a goat any day of the week.

Intro – The album opens with an interviewer asking Rakim, “What he’s giving them (meaning the fans) back?” Then, after stumbling around with a few unnecessary words, a couple of “ums,” and a “nahmean,” he replies with “skills.” The next track immediately begins.

The 18th Letter (Always And Forever) – Father Shaheed (one-third of Poor Righteous Teachers) serves up a strong, poker-faced instrumental, sprinkled with a touch of soul, courtesy of a Lyn Collins vocal snippet. Ra takes his time on the title track, letting off one verse that comes with more lyrical potency than some rappers’ entire album (“Some of my rap patterns, still surround Saturn” is ridiculously sick!). I didn’t really care for the song’s ending refrain, but that minor mishap didn’t dim the brilliance of this opening track at all.

Skit – Another clip from the interview that the album started with. FYI, every “Skit” on The 18th Letter is a clip from that same interview.

It’s Been A Long Time – This record marks the first time Rakim would rhyme over a DJ Premier beat, and it doesn’t disappoint. Premo places slower-paced drums underneath a hypnotic melody, created by a dope horn and string loop. Rakim, with his steadfast cool demeanor, leaves planet Earth for large portions of this record. Here are a few samples of his alien work: “They say I changed the times with the rhymes that I thought of, so I made some more to put the new world in order, with mathematics, put your status above the average, and help you rappers, make paragraphs with graphics.” Or, “Cursed kids like the Pyramids when they found the style, first to ever let a rhyme flow down The Nile.” This record is a masterpiece that never gets old.

Remember That – If you read this blog regularly, you know one of my pet peeves is a song title that poses a question without a question mark. So, naturally, seeing this one left my pet peeved. This track finds The R looking back at yesteryear as he recalls his fledgling emcee days and the party scene in New York “before they turned hip-hop to rap.” DJ Clark Kent scores Ra’s recollections with a familiar but always pleasantly welcoming flip of Pleasure’s “Thoughts of Old Flames.” This record is one of my personal favorites on The 18th Letter.

The Saga Begins – Pete Rock gets his first of two production credits on the album. He chefs up a somberly cinematic instrumental laced with subtle groans, apocalyptic vibes, and occasional sprinkles of musical meteor showers. Rakim, aka the Paragraphologist/Narrating Novelist, blesses the track nicely, but his performance plays a supporting role to PR’s brilliant backdrop.

Skit – Another interview clip that sort of sets up the next track.

Guess Who’s Back – Once again, our host forgets to add a question mark to the end of the song title. Clark Kent rolls out the red carpet for the return of the god emcee via dramatic horn stabs and chunky drums, as a composed Rakim effortlessly dismantles the beat. Hearing Rakim use “jiggy” during the hook was cringeworthy, but this is still a dope record.

Stay A While – Dating back to his time with Eric B, Rakim has spit a rhyme or two for the ladies (i.e., the classic, “Mahogany” and the slept on “What’s On Your Mind”). He carries on the tradition for this track as he searches for his “world wonder” who’s “on a steady path like Betty Shabazz.” Clark Kent loops up the bass line from Loose Ends’ song of almost the same song title (“Stay A Little While, Child”) while Nneka Nneka blesses the track with her strong vocals, reinterpreting some of Loose Ends’ lyrics for the hook. I didn’t care for this record back in the day, mainly because Kent’s clubbish instrumental felt fabricated with crossover ambitions. I still think that was the intent, but today, hearing Ra’s polished, smooth, and relentless rhymes ride the beat makes it hard to resist the groove that it is.

New York (Ya Out There) – This is Rakim’s ghetto ode to New York City. He uses three verses to list the attributes that make NYC the unique city that it is (although some of the things he lists, like enjoying extra wet sex, aren’t necessarily exclusive to NYC), and cleverly uses the same bar-ending rhyme pattern throughout each verse (I believe this is also the only song on The 18th Letter that Rakim curses on). Premo gets his second and final production credit of the night, scoring Rakim’s Big Apple dedication with a dusty, bare-boned bop that isn’t one of Premo’s best works, but still decent.

Show Me Love – Rakim gets his poetical Billy D. Williams on, using his vast vocabulary to pull a thick-hipped modern-day Nefertiti, who comes equipped with colorful curves and intellect that swerves. Ra’s game is so sick, he even throws science and mathematics into the equation to get the panties (he also has to be the only rapper to ever use the word “odiferous” in a rhyme, though I wouldn’t be surprised to discover Canibus used it at some point in his catalog). Nick Wiz (whose name I first became familiar with for his work on the debut album for the white rapper who felt he was down with the culture enough to use “nigga” in his rhymes, Miilkbone) is credited for the grown and sultry bop. I didn’t care for Robyn Small’s half-baked hook, but the vivaciously haunting female vocal loop adds a level of elegance to Mr. Wiz’s dusty drums, and I enjoyed the contrast.

Skit – Another interview clip.

The Mystery (Who Is God?) – Rakim gives an intricate dissertation about who God is, formulated through Supreme Mathematics. I’m sure Five Percenters love his content on this record. Personally, I found it boring as shit. I dug the mysterious vibes in the Naughty Shorts/Bill Blass-produced instrumental, though. I was also pleased to see the god use proper punctuation at the end of the question asked in the song title. Gold star for The R!

When I’m Flowin – Rakim transforms more of his organic thoughts into aerodynamic flows over Pete Rock’s drunken piano loop-laden production. Ra’s hook was trash, but the rest of the track was solid.

It’s Been A Long Time (Suave House Mix) – Mo Suave-A Productions gives the original version a complete makeover. It sounds more West Coastish than Memphis, but the synthy groove is fire, regardless. If this is the kind of production I have to look forward to for the 8Ball & MJG catalog, boy, am I in for a treat.

Guess Who’s Back (Alternate Mix) – The instrumental has a few minor tweaks (a few less dramatic horn stabs and a faint wah-wah chord that adds no nutritious value to the track), but it’s built on the same chassis as the original mix. Nothing to see here, folks.

Outro – And Ra brings the album to a close with one last interview clip.

On “It’s Been A Long Time,” Rakim tongue-in-cheekily says, “Nobody’s been this long-awaited since Jesus.” The world is still waiting for the son of God’s return, but thank God, the god emcee’s technical difficulties were officially over with the release of The 18th Letter.

During Rakim’s five-year hiatus, hip-hop’s landscape had changed drastically. The James Brown sample-heavy, stripped-down sound that he and his peers shaped their music around in the eighties had evolved into the usage of more sophisticated loops and later into more polished synth sounds. A large portion of rappers’ content had shifted from conscious messaging and innocent boasting to thug and drug dealer themes. On The 18th Letter, the raw sonics of Ra’s yesteryear are updated with (now) vintage East Coast boom-bap and a few clean and synthesized production moments. On the mic, Rakim sounds unfazed by the hardcore thugged-out trends of the era. He maintains his stoic disposition, delivering an album full of “paragraphs with graphics” with his high-tech dialect. His rhymes and flow were always ahead of their time, but his absence gave his contemporaries time to catch up. On The 18th Letter, he may not sound as advanced as he did in the past, but his decade-long head start keeps his pen up to pace and potent as he goes toe-to-toe with great production from some of the greatest hip-hop producers to ever do it.

Throughout the Eric B & Rakim catalog, Ra relied heavily on Eric B’s cuts to fill in the spaces between his verses. Some of those empty spaces on The 18th Letter are filled with vocal scratches and a few sung refrains, but on a handful of tracks, Rakim DIYs his hooks, unveiling the god emcee’s one weakness. None of his choruses are catchy, and most of them sound forced and overly wordy (especially on “The Mystery,” where the god emcee’s hook sounds godawful).

Despite Rakim’s poorly written hooks, unnecessary interludes, and a few pedestrian tracks, The 18th Letter is a more than solid body of work. The god emcee sounds reinvigorated with his newfound freedom, as he leaves a New Testament for past, present, and future generations to marvel at.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Domino – The World Of Dominology (November 4, 1997)

Posted on 03/31/2026 by deedub77

My introduction to Domino came from his blue contribution to the innovative 1993 Bloods & Crips compilation album, Bangin’ On Wax (he spat the first bars on the album’s self-titled lead single, and he appeared on one of my personal favorites from that album, “Mackin’ To Slob Bitches”). His bangin’ of bloods would eventually lead to him getting a solo deal with Outburst (who had distribution through Def Jam), where he’d strike gold, figuratively and literally, with his self-titled debut album, thanks largely to his hit record, “Getto Jam.” From there, he’d release Physical Funk in 1996, which wasn’t nearly as successful as his debut, and would end his short-lived run at Outburst. That brings us to 1997, the year Domino would drop two albums, two months apart, with nearly identical album titles and track lists.

Dominology was released in September of ‘97, and The World of Dominology in November. Dominology was released under the Domino Entertainment/Thug Records imprint and The World Of Dominology via Caw Records/Cyber Records. The only difference in the track listing for the albums is the addition of one extra track to The World Of Dominology.

Dominology was mid at best, and a drop in quality compared to Domino’s first two albums. Unless The World Of Dominology is filled with a bunch of fire remixes and the additional track is bananas, I don’t have high hopes going into this review. At least the album cover artwork is less cheesy than Dominology’s.

Dominology – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Shake It Up – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

On Them Thangz – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Do You Like It – The question mark omitted in the song title is the artist’s error, not mine. This is the lone song on The World Of Dominology that wasn’t included on Dominology. It was originally released on the Blankman Soundtrack back in ‘94, but for some odd reason, Domino decided to tack it on to this project (and remove “Baby” from the end of the original song title). Our host creates a cheap-sounding, mildly funky, West Coast backdrop with some pretty nice chord progressions that lead into the hook and keep the music interesting. Lyrically, Domino seeks to get the party started and keep feet and asses on the dance floor, as he transitions back and forth between rapping and harmonizing. He also makes yet another call back to “Sweet Potatoe Pie,” which at this point is beyond corny and annoying as shit.

Keep Goin’ – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Get Yo Money – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Come On Over – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Sowed Up Like Clothes – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Daddy Mack – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Booty Call – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Just Clownin’ – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

Everybody Wanna Be A G – See the Dominology review for my thoughts on this track.

At the end of my Dominology review, I said that the album wasn’t a complete waste of wax, as there were four or five tracks on the album that I enjoyed. Ironically, The World Of Dominology is a complete waste of wax.

As I expected, The World Of Dominology isn’t remixes of tracks from Dominology, and the additional track on the album is a three-year-old record that’s mid at best. The only reason I can imagine Domino would re-release virtually the same album under a different label just two months after the original release was in hopes that the new label would get behind it and give it a better promotional boost. Whatever the motive was, the “revamped” project is still mediocre, and like wisdom teeth, the appendix, and male nipples, its existence is in vain.

Wow, I actually completed an album review in less than seven hundred words.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Jay-Z – In My Lifetime, Vol. 1 (November 4, 1997)

Posted on 03/24/2026 by deedub77

Revisionist history might lead you to believe that Reasonable Doubt was an immediate breakout smash when it was released in 1996, but it wasn’t (and ironically, it’s about to celebrate its thirtieth anniversary in June). Unlike Illmatic, which came with great anticipation, Reasonable Doubt’s release was quiet, and it slowly built momentum over time. But eventually, it would widely be considered the Brooklyn legend’s magna opus (I concur, but would be willing to hear your argument if you think The Blueprint is better). In ‘97, Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter would look to build on the success of his debut with In My Lifetime, Vol.1.

In My Lifetime was the first release in what would become a long-standing joint venture between Roc-A-Fella Records and Def Jam (they would together bring the world the next nine Jay-Z albums). Jay would bring back some of the names that helped shape Reasonable: DJ Premier, Ski, and his mentor, Jaz-O, would all produce tracks for the album. He would also call on Teddy Riley and Trackmasters for beats, but Puffy’s Bad Boy in-house production team, The Hitmen, would handle the bulk of the production duties. In My Lifetime would follow a similar commercial trajectory as Reasonable, earning a gold plaque three months after its release, and taking over a year to reach platinum certification.

Would Jay-Z fall victim to the sophomore jinx like some of the other greats, or would he build on the momentum of his debut? Let’s jump into it.

Intro/A Million And One Questions/Rhyme No More – Pain In Da Ass, who opened Reasonable Doubt, returns to open In My Lifetime with a few words. Then our ears are pleasantly greeted by DJ Premier’s chop-and-flip of a sexy jazz piano loop set over boom-bap drums, as our host shares some of the questions he regularly gets asked in the street. After one verse, Premo uses his vintage scratches and a beautiful string bridge to transition to a hardy musical canvas built on a rugged guitar loop. Jay uses the second beat to talk a little shit and shares some of the highlights of his crime resume along the way. Both of Jay’s verses were decent, but Premo’s production is by far the star of this opening track.

The City Is Mine – This was the album’s second single. Teddy Riley is credited for the jacking of Glenn Frey’s “You Belong To The City” (his Blackstreet bredrin reinterpret and sing the chorus from the eighties pop hit for the hook) and mixing it with a loop of the bass line from The Jones Girls’ “You Gonna Make Me Love Somebody Else” (random side note: a young Chad Hugo plays the saxophone on this track). The first verse finds Jay conversing with Biggie’s spirit, mourning his loss and letting him know his throne as King of New York is in good hands: “Don’t worry about Brooklyn, I continue to flame, therefore a world with amnesia won’t forget your name, you held it down long enough, let me take those reigns.” He spends the last two verses letting all would-be contenders know that the imaginary crown and throne are now his, which I’m sure rubbed some of his NYC counterparts the wrong way. I’m torn on this one. Jay’s first verse is compelling, and the rest of his bars were at least decent, but the poppy feel of the “You Belong To The City” interpolation borders on cheesy and fully fabricated.

I Know What Girls Like – Lil’ Kim joins Jay on this high-priced trickin’/gold diggin’ duet. Diddy and Amen-Ra recycle the stripped-down beat from Boogie Boys’ “A Fly Girl” and shoot lasers at it in between the verses. I like the retro-futuristic fusion in the music, but I absolutely hate Jay and Kim’s uninspired exchange, and the hook is the audio equivalent of nails scraping a chalkboard.

Imaginary Player – Several attributes make Jay-Z one of the greatest to ever do it. One of them is his mastery of the boast, as he has spat some of hip-hop’s best braggadocious bars. Another is his ability to, every now and then, slow things way down and step into his conversational flow, making the listener feel as if it’s just the two of you in the room. Both skill sets are on display for this one. Daven “Prestige” Vanderpool loops up Rene & Angela’s “Imaginary Playmates” to create the grown and sexy groove that Jay-Z effortlessly clowns, shits on, and reprimands these fictitious contestants. I’ve heard some speculate that Jay’s bars on this track were aimed at Mase or LL Cool J. I don’t know if that’s true, but either way, his flossy rhymes sound great.

Streets Is Watching – In his memoir Decoded, Jay-Z shares a story of Biggie being blown away by this song when he let him hear it. Hopefully, he played him the uncensored version, because all the bleeps in the album cut distract from Jay’s three-verse dissertation on street politics. Ski’s beat is straight cinematic fire, though.

Friend Or Foe ’98 – The enterprising out-of-town street pharmacist that Jay told to “never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever come around here no mo'” on Reasonable has made a return, and our host is about to put an end to his foe’s expansion attempt, permanently. Premo replaces the wacky horns from the first go-round with a brolic backdrop that breathes more life into Jay-Z’s witty, gangster theatrics delivered in this one-verse wonder. I love both parts of this two-piece series, and I wouldn’t have minded “Friend Or Foe” becoming what the “Jane” series was to EPMD’s catalog.

Lucky Me – This record might as well have been titled “Woe is Jay-Z.” He spends the entire track self-loathing about the stress of being a rap star, while Karen Anderson somberly sings the hook, co-signing our host’s self-piety. Jay’s bars didn’t make me feel sorry for him, but I did mildly enjoy the melancholic melody in the Stevie J and Buckwild concocted production.

(Always Be My) Sunshine – This was the lead single from In My Lifetime. Prestige Vanderpool recycles the electronic sounds of The Fearless Four’s “Rockin’ It” for the backdrop as Jay courts Foxy Brown, and she willingly becomes his ride or die chick. I didn’t care much for the duo’s run-of-the-mill hood love bars, and Babyface is an absolute legend, but hearing him sing/butcher the chorus to Alexander O’Neal’s “Sunshine” on the hook felt forced and sounded atrocious. This ends with a skit of a disgruntled chick leaving a voicemail, cussing Jay-Z out for apparently kicking her and her friends out of his truck.

Who You Wit II – This song was originally released on the Sprung Soundtrack earlier in ‘97 (this mix is titled Part Two, as it has a completely different third verse than the original). Ironically, Ski’s instrumental feels like skiing in the Swiss Alps and sipping on a cup of Kopi Luwak to relax afterwards (I’ve never done either, so my imagination could be way off). Jay uses the luxurious track to spew loads of misogyny, and it all sounds entertaining as hell. This track ends with another skit: the angry chick from the previous skit calls back to leave another voicemail, this time apologizing to Jay-Z for cussing him out on the first one.

Face Off – Sauce Money, who spat the opening verse on Reasonable’s epic “Bring On It,” faces off with Jay-Z on this track as the two hot potato the mic one some updated, toxic masculinity Cold Crush Brothers shit. Trackmasters get their sole production credit of the evening, and it’s a dandy. They abandon the commercially polished production sound they were feasting on during this era, looping up a Soul Makossa record and adding some J.B. horns to create a raw canvas for the duo’s spirited back-and-forth.

Real Niggaz – Jay-Z takes a trip out West and links up with the Oakland legend, Too Short, for this one. This almost feels like Jay-Z’s attempt at making atonement for the East Coast/ West Coast beef, punctuated by his last bar on the record: “If you ballin’, keep ballin’, if you jealous, stop, I want Biggie to rest in peace, as well as Pac.” It was cool hearing these two connect, but I absolutely love Anthony Dent’s dark, emotional groove.

Rap Game/Crack Game – As the title suggests, Jay compares the similarities of the rap game and the crack game over Jaz-O’s organic boom-bap and Nas and OutKast samples for the hook. Dope. No pun intended.

Where I’m From – Jay-Z paints a picture of Brooklyn from his hood perspective over the murky and thumpin’ Amen-Ra/D-Dot production. This was tough.

You Must Love Me – Jay-Z ends In My Lifetime on a super somber note. Nashiem Myrick provides a brilliant bluesy backdrop that Mr. Carter uses to share three scenarios of his loved ones showing him unconditional love despite his ill behavior toward them: i.e., selling crack to his mother (though he’s said that the reference to “the creation of which you came” was a metaphor for all the black mothers he sold crack to, not necessarily his own momma), shooting his biological brother, and having his girlfriend risk her freedom by transporting work out of state for him. Jay-Z’s vulnerable introspection is riveting, and the soulful music and vocal sample, along with Kelly Price’s “take ‘em to church” performance on the hook, make this one of Jay’s top ten (or at least twenty) records in my book. It’s easily the crown jewel of In My Lifetime.

Side note: The UK/Europe version of In My Lifetime has two bonus tracks: “Wishing On A Star,” the “D’Influence Remix,” and the “Trackmasters Remix.” I have the US pressing, so I won’t discuss them too much, but I did check out both mixes on YouTube (which rework Rose Royce’s classic seventies ballad of the same name). The solemn D’Influence instrumental sounds much more suited for Jay’s sober stroll down memory lane than the disruptive drums in the Trackmasters’ interpretation.

In My Lifetime opens with Pain In Da Ass sharing a few words on Jay-Z’s behalf, and just before he ends his soliloquy, he says: “I ain’t no rapper, I’m a hustler. It just so happens I know how to rap.” Throughout his illustrious rap career, Jay-Z has reminded us he was born with a hustler spirit (“nigga, period”) and that the rap game is just one of his many hustles. Reasonable Doubt felt less like a music hustle and more like the artistic audio journal of a drug dealer. On In My Lifetime, Jay-Z sounds more like a “hustler who just so happens to know how to rap.”

Jay-Z has said that during this stage of his career, he was looking for the perfect formula for making street records with pop appeal, much like Biggie did. This becomes blatantly obvious on records like “The City Is Mine,” “I Know What Girls Like,” “Lucky Me,” and “Sunshine.” Like most hip-hop songs made with pop intentions, you can feel the manufactured sound in these records, and the inauthenticity cheapens them. Thankfully, these moments are the exception rather than the rule.

Jay-Z is one of the greatest to ever pick up a mic. He’s a witty wordsmith with a unique ability to put words together and make them dance in your ear. He’s also a master of the double entendre and can boast and floss with the best of them. And while the casual fan may know him for his swaggy, superficial rhymes, when he chooses to spit substance, he’s just as potent. Jay-Z is an alien, but he rarely leaves Planet Earth on In My Lifetime. It’s not that his rapping sounds bad. In fact, the majority of his bars are solid, probably better than ninety percent of the rest of the field at the time. But when you set the rhyming bar as high as he did on Reasonable Doubt, with classic bars on several of the album’s tracks, the three of four times he takes flight on In My Lifetime (“Imaginary Players,” “Friend Or Foe ‘98,” “Where I’m From,” and “You Must Love Me”) pale in comparison.

The production on In My Lifetime is top-notch, as it successfully blends gutter boom-bap, soulful grooves, smooth bops, and polished pop-ready production together in an entertaining fashion. Jay sounds competent and confident throughout, even on the few instrumentals that miss. But the deep self-reflection theme found throughout Reasonable is replaced with mostly surface-level content, which mildly hinders the overall product sold by the hustler named Jay-Z, “who just so happens to know how to rap.”

-Deedub
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