Twista – Adrenaline Rush (June 24, 1997)

Posted on 08/04/2026 by deedub77

The first time I heard Twista rhyme was back in the early nineties when he was going by the alias of Tung Twista. Back then, there was a bunch of hoopla around him getting into the Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s fastest rapper for pronouncing 598 syllables in sixty seconds. He signed a deal with Loud Records (becoming the first rapper signed to the soon-to-be legendary hip-hop label) and released his debut album Runnin’ Off At Da Mouth in 1992. I’ve never listened to the album, but the lead single (“Mista Tung Twista”) was proof that speed doesn’t necessarily equate to skill. He sounded like a less seasoned and less talented version of Wise Intelligent (shoutout to Poor Righteous Teachers), and the song was trash (random reminiscing moment: I remember when Treach accused Twista of biting his style and told him to “Tongue twist your ass back to Chicago” on “Sleepin’ On Jersey;” that line still cracks me up…but back to the review). Tung Twista’s gimmicky and semi-animated persona failed, leading Loud to part ways with the Chicagoan rapper. Twista would disappear from the hip-hop scene for a few years, but he would soon reinvent himself.

In ‘94, Twista released his sophomore effort Resurrection. Well, kind of. From what I could gather on the World Wide Web, Resurrection was released locally in Chicago, but since Common (another Chicago rapper) released an album the same year with the same title, Twista’s label was hesitant to release it nationally, so it came and went with very little attention or promotion. In ‘96, Twista would truly resurrect his career with his classic cameo appearance on Do Or Die’s hit single “Po Pimp,” sounding like a completely different rapper than the one we heard on “Mista Tung Twista.” He still used a swift flow, but his once overly anxious speed raps were crafted into a controlled double-time pace with a smooth delivery and slick cadence. The single went gold, and Twista would take full advantage of his resurgence, releasing his first album on Atlantic, titled Adrenaline Rush.

Produced entirely by The Legendary Traxster (the man also behind the boards for “Po Pimp”), Adrenaline Rush would become Twista’s breakout album. Even though it took two years to reach gold status (and another twenty years for it to become platinum).

I’m a casual Twista fan, and not too familiar with his catalog. But after hearing his amazing verse on “Is This The End?” (No Way Out), and a friend, whose opinion I (sometimes) trust, speaking so highly of AR, I tracked down a copy, and here we are today.

Let’s get to it.

Intro – The album begins with a brother giving Webster’s Dictionary’s definition of “adrenaline rush,” which quickly merges into Urban Dictionary’s definition of the term, followed by a skit. Twista finds out his cousin has been murdered, and he and his crew retaliate. It’s definitely an attention-grabbing opening scene.

Adrenaline Rush – The Legendary Traxster’s first instrumental of the evening is a turtle-paced, dark, and grimy audio canvas with splashes of evil, high-pitched synth sounds. Speaking of a turtle’s pace, Twista’s guest, Yung Buk (not to be confused with the Young Buck formerly of G-Unit, though I did confuse his voice for GLC, another Chicagoan rapper), sounds like a verbal tortoise compared to his host’s hare-like tempo. Their contrasting styles work together pretty well over the grimy backdrop.

Death Before Dishonor – Sticking with the theme from the violent intro, Twista’s in gangsta mode and firing shots at his adversaries with his AK-47 rapid-fire flow, and he sounds Ginsu sharp at times: “Better be/ ‘cause I readily/hit him with styles and gats that’s heavily/ armed, dangerous, and deadly/ them ahead of me/receive two holes like a letter B.” Reading those rhymes doesn’t sound nearly as impressive as it does hearing Twista spit them in double time. Traxster’s accompanying G-Funkish instrumentation is also tough, making for a banger of a record. The track ends with Twista’s homeboy leaving him a voicemail, whispering like a runaway slave that the cops are looking for him. I guess it ties in with the album’s running theme.

It Feels So Good – The softly spoken poem by a female voice, along with sleigh bells at the beginning of this record, felt heavily influenced by OutKast’s “Player’s Ball” and put me in a Christmas mood. The mood quickly shifts when Traxster’s somberly shiny and relaxed backdrop intrudes and Twista gives the listener a glimpse into a day in the life of having nothing to do but hang with his crew, get high, and bang hoes (the imagery of “one of them got chocolate big thighs, and the other was a redbone” does something to my spirit, or at least my manly imagination). Victoria Johnson adds a sultry sung hook, making the already slick record sound more enticing. The track’s followed by a news report about the murder of Jimmy Pilgrim and the hunt for two male suspects. We also get some ghetto interviews from a few eyewitnesses to the crime.

Overdose – Twista’s rhymes jump all over the place on this one, and the hook is complete ass (“I done put the fuel on it, take a pull on it, me overdosin’ on weed and sendin’ all y’all off into a thing”). I can hear where his vocals were punched in, but some of the speedy cadences he hits on this track are still mesmerizing. It did leave me curious about how Twista’s breath control is at a live show, though. Twista’s homeboy cuts him off before he finishes his verse so they can get into the next song.

Mobster’s Anthem – Twista invites the Speedknot Mobstaz (Mayze and Malif) to join him on this track as they collectively share their vision to fulfill their “Westside (Chicago) odyssey mobster prophecy.” Or in layman’s terms: become rich from hustlin’. I mentioned in my previous post that there are certain samples used in hip-hop songs that are so iconic they should never be sampled again. Traxster repurposes the Leon Haywood record that Dr. Dre used for the backbone of “Nuthin’ But A ‘G’ Thang.” It’s a blasphemous recycling, but at least Twista and crew acknowledge and pay homage to what The Good Doctor and The Dogg did on their classic record by resurrecting the legendary opening countdown. Traxster also adds another element from the same sample source, giving this record a slightly different feel than Dre’s. This one ends with another skit: A man gets interrogated by the police for a murder. It’s not clear, but I’m left to assume they’re grilling him for the body Twista and his crew caught.

Get Her In Tha Mood – A skit followed by another skit. Some young tender is in the studio being coached through a verbal porn session, and when she runs out of fresh freaky ideas, her coach (who, ironically, is a man) brings in Twista to help. I thought she was doing a fine job all by herself.

Emotions – Let’s address the elephant in the room. This record (which was also AR’s lead single) was clearly a calculated move to recapture the magic that was “Po’ Pimp.” Traxster’s instrumental is the twin brother to the backdrop he created for “Po Pimp.” Johnny P, who sang the hook on “Po’ Pimp,” returns to sing a similar refrain, and Twista rehashes the same rapid-paced player rhetoric. The only thing missing is Do Or Die. If I’d never heard “Po Pimp,” this might have been decent, but since I am familiar with the record, this shit is contrived corniness.

Unsolved Mystery – The man interrogated during the skit at the end of “Mobster’s Anthem” chops it up with his guy about the experience. Then Traxster brings in a haunted piano riff, along with tentative drum claps, eerie strings, and ghostly synth screeches as Twista raps about witnessing unsolved murders as casually as discussing sports. The hook has strong Bone-Thug vibes that sound a little copycat. Fittingly, this one ends with a skit of another brother getting shot.

Korrupt World – Traxster unleashes dirge-like organs, a sorrowful piano riff, and a mournful guitar motif for Twista and Psyde to address the gun violence so prevalent on the Chicago streets and the inner cities across the country. AR is filled with gangsta bravado, but this is the lone record on the album that humanizes the perpetrator, the victim, and the people that love both of them. This solid piece of musical social commentary is almost derailed by an asinine “Smokin’” jingle that follows.

Get It Wet – Twista and Ms. Kane take part in a little verbal foreplay as they take turns talking dirty to one another. I didn’t care much for this track, but I felt like Nasty Nelson from Boomerang listening to Ms. Kane rap explicits like “Instead all that talkin’, let your tongue do the walkin’ on down this clitoris” and “Come and take a little glimpse of these sweet hips, when that ass in the air cause a eclipse.” Maaarvelous!

No Remorse – Traxster brews up a demented synthesized masterpiece for Twista and his extended crew (Mayze, Malif, Turtle, and Link) to catch a few more bodies over. This was fire, and would have been a great way to end the album, but instead…

Emotions (Remix) – Twista brings back the lead single with a different beat, slightly adjusted rhymes, a new hook, and a new singer of the hook (Vince Walker replaces Johnny P). All things are new, but I disliked the remix more than the original.

I mentioned during the opening of this post that it was Twista’s verse as Puffy’s ghetto guardian angel on “Is This The End?” from No Way Out that intrigued me to dig into his catalog. I dug what he did on “Po Pimp,” and years later on “Slow Jamz” and “Overnight Celebrity,” but the polished double-time flow, combined with the lyrical dexterity he displayed on his No Way Out verse, sounded absolutely amazing. I was hoping to hear more of that side of Twista on Adrenaline Rush, but that version of him rarely shows up.

Twista spends most of AR spewing gangsta raps, thug posturing, partying, and chasing ass. Stylistically, he sounds good over The Legendary Traxster’s dark production scheme that blends G-funk-esque bangers with instrumentals built around thick basslines that stretch out and max (similar to “Po Pimp”). But his content is unoriginal and uncreative, and, aside from “Korrupt World,” Twista’s raps sound shallow and soulless.

The liner notes for AR are filled with four pages of data about gun violence and prison sentencing in the Black community, as well as social commentary from Wendy Day, hip-hop consultant and founder of the Rap Coalition. While the stats are sobering, most of the skits throughout the album approach the subject with a comedic tone, and when combined with Twista & Crew’s cavalier mobster energy, it almost contradicts the insert’s conscious message. From a storyline perspective, the skits miss the mark, including random moments that have nothing to do with the topic (like “Get Her In Tha Mood” and the “Smokin” jingle) and ultimately, abandon the murder soap opera it leads with without any real closure.

Horribly executed skits and mixed gun-violence messaging aside, Adrenaline Rush is a solid album. The production is dope, and Twista entertains for the most part. I was just hoping his bars would do more than make my adrenaline rush.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Leschea – Rhythm & Beats (June 17, 1997)

Posted on 07/21/2026 by deedub77

If you’re new to TimeIsIllmatic, I’m Deedub, a self-proclaimed hip-hop junkie who loves collecting CDs and vinyl. I collect other genres of music as well (i.e., R&B, seventies soul, pop, a bit of rock, and jazz), but a large chunk of my collection is hip-hop based. I’ve never listened to a lot of it, which is the main reason I started this blog (as an organized way to work my way through it). Hip-hop albums will continue to be the focus of this blog, with an occasional exception. Like the subject of this post, but it’s still hip-hop-adjacent.

Leschea, whose name you may remember as part of Masta Ace’s short-lived crew I.N.C. (or Masta Ace Incorporated), was the crew’s seldom-used vocalist. The first time I heard her sing was on the SlaughtaHouse album, where she was threatening to smoke wack niggas on “Don’t Fuck Around.” She would make a few more appearances on their second album, Sittin’ On Chrome, and after two underappreciated projects, Masta Ace Incorporated would go out of business. The I.N.C. may have been going out of business, but Ace and Leschea were about to make things super personal as they began dating, and in 2001 they made it official with marriage. But before the marriage, Leschea’s contributions to the Masta Ace Incorporated albums helped her parlay a deal with Warner Bros., and in ‘97 she’d release her debut solo album, Rhythm & Beats.

Masta Ace served as one of the executive producers for Rhythm & Beats and produced half the album. Lord Finesse and The King of Chill are among the other names with producer credits on the album. R&B produced a couple of singles that made very little noise, and the album came and went with very little fanfare.

R&B is another album that I didn’t know existed until about 8 months ago when I came across a used CD copy at one of my favorite record stores (shoutout to Cheapos!). Leschea’s name was familiar; I.N.C. is a brand that I trust, and her husband is an underrated legend. Hopefully, Leschea can live up to her affiliations on her debut.

My Flow Intro – The first five times this came on in the car, I thought my door was ajar due to the dinging noise the song begins with. Megahertz (which is an ill ass alias for a producer) quickly turns the ding into a dope instrumental built around a hypnotically ominous bass guitar loop. The first voice you hear is Leschea’s homegirl (Nikki?), and she introduces the listener to the album, shares words of confirmation to her friend, and shits on “easy pickin’ bitches livin’ in a Versace world.” Then Leschea’s fellow I.N.C alum, Paula Perry, gets off a solid verse before Leschea does a little riffing and borrows the melody from Luther Vandross’ classic “Never Too Much.” Leschea stays in pocket for most of her bit. She gets a little carried away towards the end but reels herself back in before things get out of control.

U Know The Place – Leschea’s joined by her future hubby on this one. Masta Ace gets off two verses listing some of the attributes that define his home borough of Brooklyn. Schea immediately forgets the theme of the record, so instead of crooning about BK, she sings about hanging with her crew. I like the electro-funk feel in Ace’s instrumental, and he sounds dope rapping over it. I know it’s Leschea’s album, but she should have let Ace write a focused hook for her to sing and play the background, while he shines with the bars.

Gimmie Bass – Someone going by the alias of Dirtman is credited for the melodic, warm, and bassy backdrop (the loop, or at least the melody in the loop, sounds a lot like the O.C. Smith piano loop used for Channel Live’s “Sex For The Sport”). Our hostess uses it to boast of her skills, shit on other female R&B singers, and lets us know how much she loves bass (not to be confused with the fish or crack). The lyrics were cheesy, and again, her voice gets a little shaky at certain points. But regardless of Leschea’s performance, I absolutely love the infectious instrumental.

How We Stay – This was one of the singles released from R&B. Ace recycles the James Brown loop used for Biggie’s “Just Playing (Dreams)” for Leschea to sing over. She doesn’t really have anything worthwhile to say, but at least she doesn’t try anything vocally risky.

Let Me Sing It 2 U – Ace flips Isaac Hayes’ “Look Of Love,” the same loop Irv Gotti (RIP) used for Reasonable Doubt’s “Can I Live,” and years later, would shamelessly use again for Ashanti’s hit single, “Rain On Me.” Leschea takes a crack at the sure-shot soul sample and fails miserably. She continues to struggle vocally, and her random lyrics sound like a spontaneous spoken-word poem. This one ends with a skit of Leschea getting a phone call from her girl who caps about some drama she witnessed at the mall. The skit’s not even remotely funny.

Fulton St. – This was R&B’s other single. Our hostess shares a tale about stalking, I mean, meeting her dream man on this busy Brooklyn street. The lyrics are repetitive and corny, but I dug the jazzy, bass-heavy backdrop. This ends with Leschea doing a full-blown Fila ad as she lists all the Fila apparel and accessories she owns, over a simple drum beat and a Roxanne Shante vocal loop that supports her love for the brand. I didn’t know Fila was still a thing in ‘97 (or maybe I just forgot), but I damn sure hope they paid her for this full-throated endorsement.

Let Me Know – There are samples so perfectly flipped and paired with the perfect rhyme that they should never be allowed to be used again. For example: The Patrice Rushen loop that Q-Tip (Tribe Degrees of Separation) used for Mobb Deep’s “Temperature’s Rising.” Fabian Hamilton repurposes the loop on this track as Leschea contemplates whether or not she should leave her street pharmacist boyfriend, played by Ike Dirty, who spits a verse trying to convince her to be his ride or die. Conceptually, the song wasn’t bad, but Leschea and the female vocalist who joins her during the hook (and wisely stays anonymous in the album credits) sound horrendous and completely desecrate the sacred ground that is Ms. Rushen’s “Where There Is Love.” Give it a listen, and I’m sure you’ll agree that I’m not exaggerating.

3 To 5 – Leschea sings about waiting for her incarcerated lover over a dark Sly Johnson loop (with production credits going to Masta Ace and Mister Cee (RIP)) that will forever be remembered in the annals of hip-hop as the foundation for Raekwon’s “Heaven & Hell” off his classic solo debut, OBFCL. Her storyline’s actually decent, but similar to the previous track, this loop belongs to RZA, Raekwon, Ghostface, and Blue Raspberry. Period.

All On You – Leschea doesn’t cover any new territory with this one. She caught her man cheating, moves on from him, and the best way to get over your ex is to get under the next, which is what she does on this track. This song is probably the best that Leschea has sounded vocally on the album. The concept’s not original, but it works, thanks largely to the Megahertz/G.M. produced instrumental, built around a dope Jones Girls loop (their name surfaces again…I’ve really gotta dig into their catalog).

All This Love – I don’t know if Leschea meant them to be, but this track and the previous four tracks tie together in a nice little story line: She falls for a street hustler on “Fulton St.” (he’s gotta be a hustler if he’s constantly crusin’ up and down the same street in his jeep everyday) and struggles with his lifestyle and occupation on “Let Me Know.” He gets caught and locked up on “3 To 5,” and when he finally gets out, he cheats on her, she leaves him, and finds a new man on “All On You.” And finally, she dedicates this hip-hop ballad to her newfound love, whom she eagerly awaits to blow her back out. Ace (the producer of this track and the album’s EP) is a master (no pun) of conceptual albums, so maybe this five-song string was an orchestrated suite and not happenstance. The track is followed by another skit that fails to bring any comic relief.

High Velocity – Earlier in this review, I said some loops aren’t meant to be recycled. But there are some dope ones that I don’t mind hearing used again. Like the Busy Bee “Chief Rocker” loop that Ace reuses for this track. Leschea’s lyrics were forgettable, but the catchy hook and dope beat make this record entertaining.

Hip Hop – Lord Finesse gets his sole production credit of the night, and it’s a thing of beauty. He slides Leschea a smooth melodic groove that she uses to harmonize about not only loving hip-hop, but also living this subculture. Some of the lyrics get weird, but Finesse’s instrumental is so soothingly amazing, it blots out all her minor lyrical transgressions.

Schea’s World – Schea closes R&B by singing about her wish to teleport to a fictional world where there is no crime, race doesn’t exist, jealousy is not allowed, it’s an ill yet serene atmosphere, and…little kids can trade in candy for loaded nines? Her words, not mine. Oh. And according to the hook, she wants to exist in this dream world by herself, which, if she did, would take care of the crime, racism, jealousy, and kids trading in a bag of Skittles for loaded nines (I sure hope that candy/gun line was a mistake). The King of Chill uses the same Heath Brothers sample that Q-Tip used for Nas’ stellar single, “One Love.” The loop has been used a few times since “One Love” (see Redman’s “Soopaman Luva 3,” and the Bud’da-produced track, “Do 4 Love” from Dr. Dre’s Aftermath compilation project), but like Patrice Rushen’s “There Is Love,” it should have been hung in the hip-hop sample rafters after its original usage.

On “Give Me Bass,” Leschea sings, “You can have the best vocals around, but it don’t mean a thing if your beats are wack.” Well, that theory also works vice versa.

Leschea only made a few appearances on Masta Ace Incorporated’s two group projects, with her main contributions coming on Slaughtahouse’s “Don’t Fuck Around” and “Turn It Up” from Sittin’ On Chrome. Other than the end of the latter record when she attempts to hit a big note before reeling it back in when her voice begins to get shaky, she always played it safe, staying in a limited vocal lane. On Rhythm & Beats, Leschea takes center stage, and all her vocal flaws get exposed.

Leschea doesn’t have a big voice or a wide vocal range, which becomes blatantly obvious early on Rhythm. A few times on the album, she ventures outside of her safe space, and to describe those moments as cringeworthy would be an understatement (prime example: “Let Me Know”). Even when she stays in her vocal safe zone, the lyrics sound corny, half-baked, or like she’s coming off the top of the dome. Her feeble songwriting paired with her lack of charm left me yearning to hear Ace, Paula Perry, and Lord Digga provide her with more moral support.

There is flagrant recycling of several already proven winning samples on R&B, which detracts from the album’s musical integrity, even if still sonically sound. The formulaic beats are mixed in amongst some original bangers, making for a solid production bed overall. So at least the music will entertain when Leschea fails to.

I remember the first time I heard Mary J Blige’s voice soulfully belting the hook on Father M.C.’s “I’ll Do 4 U.” It wasn’t the strongest vocal I’d ever heard, but it was heartfelt and had a rough, warm quality that captivated. So much so, in time, she’d be crowned the Queen of Hip-Hop Soul. I blame MJB for making it look so easy to sing with swag over hip-hop beats. Leschea’s performance on R&B is proof that it’s not.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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Ill Al Skratch – Keep It Movin’

Posted on 07/07/2026 by deedub77

We last heard from the New York City duo, Ill Al Skratch, in 1994 with their debut album, Creep Wit’ Me. The album spawned two moderately successful singles, but neither racked up any hardware (aka RIAA gold or platinum plaques), and the album followed suit. Ill and Al felt the label (Mercury) was responsible for the album’s commercial failure due to poor promotion and backing. I thought the album was cool, but played more like an EP with six of the twelve tracks being tied to the two singles (four were tied to “Where My Homiez?” and two to “I’ll Take Her”), but the production was solid, and Ill and Al, at times, showed potential on the microphone. Whatever the reason was for its failure, Mercury would give Ill Al Skratch one more chance as they’d return in ’97 with their sophomore effort, Keep It Movin’.

LG The Experience (Easy Mo Bee’s little brother) and LoRider were responsible for producing the entirety of Creep Wit’ Me. LoRider’s name is nowhere to be found in the liner notes for Keep It Movin’, but LG is credited with producing five of the album’s twelve tracks. Ill Al Skratch, longtime Rap-A-Lot Records in-house producer, Crazy C, and a few other names fill out the rest of the project’s production credits.

I found a used vinyl copy of Keep It Movin’ at a record store during a recent trip to Chicago. Being the trusting (or gullible) collector that I am, I didn’t do a thorough inspection of the product. I realized, when I began preparing for this review, that the double vinyl in the record sleeve did not consist of “disc one” and “disc two,” but instead, two copies of “disc two.” Needless to say, I’m without a physical copy of the first six songs of Keep It Movin’, so I’m relying solely on Apple Music for the first half of this listen. If by chance you’re reading this and have two “disc ones” of the Keep It Movin’ vinyl, know this is fate, and DM so we can swap the appropriate discs to make both of our Keep It Movin’ sets complete.

Keep It Movin’ Intro – The first thing you hear is an ill, scratched-up (no pun) rock guitar loop that ends way too soon. Then the legendary Kid Capri introduces our hosts, followed by a random verse from Melachi The Nutcracker. The Nutcracker’s verse is a far cry from what he did on Gang Starr’s “Words From The Nutcracker,” but at least the jazzy piano loop underneath his vocal was enjoyable.

Me & The Click – LG turns an Enter The Dragon loop into a gutter atmosphere, as our hosts let off oodles of gun-toting thuggery, and Al Skratch, more so than Ill, excels in the field. Greg Nice unexpectedly drops in to deliver a song-ending verse, and while I’m always down for a Greg N-I-C-E freestyle, this one sounded a little out of place. Still, I was thoroughly entertained by this record.

Get Down – Our hosts do more slick shit-talking over smooth drums, a callous single-piano note loop, and intermittent melodic chords (credited to Crazy C). Speaking of melodic, Al makes an interesting point with his line, “Now everybody wanna sound melodic, I wonder where they got it, guess they on my dick.” I’m trying to figure out who that shot was aimed at. I first thought Bone Thugs, but their debut single (“Thuggish Ruggish Bone”) came out at least a month before “Where My Homiez?” back in ‘94; and it would be a few more years before Ja Rule hopped on the melodic bandwagon. Regardless, Al was definitely one of the first, and more importantly, this track was dope.

Yo Love – With bars like “size in your thighs make my nature rise” and “Gotta hit the puss as soon as I met her,” it’s clear Al and Ill aren’t looking for love, but instead, something to smash. The up-tempo backdrop (credited to our hosts and Muffla formerly of L.A. Posse) samples an old Cameo record, giving the track a party feel. It also features the vocals of Reese Love and a couple of Crystals (Crystal Johnson, whom you heard blow on classics such as Mobb Deep’s “Temperature’s Rising” and Pete Rock & CL Smooth’s “Take You There,” and Crystal “Dadadidadada” Waters) on the hook to add some R&B vibes to the horny affair. It’s not a great track, yet a decent album cut.

Yeah 1, 2 – Al and Ill dedicate this one to “all the real muthafuckin’ niggas” (their words, not mine). They’re also credited with the semi-soulful, southern-fried instrumental. Al gets off a few more clever bully bars (“You wanna floor tussle? Take your chance against the raw hustle, I’ll draw a jigsaw puzzle on your jaw muscle”), but overall, the record was average at best.

Stick-N-Move – Ill sits this one out, as Al is joined by an uncredited rapper (who sounds like a knock-off GZA) and a reggae chanter named Papoose aka Da Black Phantom (not to be confused with Remy Ma’s ex-husband, even though Genius did). DJ Scratch continues to gain more of my respect as a producer as he sets the trio up with a grimy mid-tempo masterpiece to play with. The anonymous guest sounds decent opening things up, but Mr. Raspy sounds right at home rhyming over this gutter gem: “You messing with the wrong nigga G, ‘cause I’ll physically put you out your misery. You think I’m lying? Have a drink, I’m buying, I’m reloading the iron, before my ink is drying…here to pop emcees’ bubble, feel free, please chuckle, take me for a joke, I’ll make your knees buckle.” If you read this blog regularly, you already know I’m not a big reggae guy, and I have no idea what Papoose is saying, but his gritty voice matches Scratch’s grime well.

Gamin’ – LG cooks up a creamy R&B groove for Ill Al Scratch to spit game at the dames while Christopher Williams and Gina Thompson lend their voices for the hook, bridge, and ad-libs. This type of record might sound contrived coming from another rap act, but it sounds authentic and on-brand for Ill and Al. Personally, I love it.

Dance Wit’ Me/After The Dance – LG keeps the smooth R&B vibes coming with this one. Yo-Yo and her self-proclaimed “ice cream thighs” (and I believe her) join the duo as they each get off a verse that has nothing to do with the premise of the song, yet they still sound nice on the mic and together. The true stars of this record are LG’s luscious instrumental (built around a sneaky interpolation of Tony, Toni, Tone’s “It Never Rains In Southern California”), Gina Thompson and Big Ken Stanton’s polished vocals, and the catchy flip of a Marvin Gaye line for the hook. Don’t be surprised if you suddenly get the urge to two-step when this comes on.

Where Ya At? – Crazy C contributes a melodic southern-paced production for the New York duo to exchange bars (hearing Al brag about being 6’2″ and then referring to Ill as “little,” right before calling out his 5’8″ stature was hi-larious; but it was even funnier to hear Ill buck back, interrupting Al on the very next line, saying, “size don’t mean shit”). The hook uses a dope Beastie Boys vocal clip, and often-used Rakim and Q-Tip snippets, making room for the first Tribes Degrees of Separation on TimeIsIllmatic in a long time.

Get Your Swerve On – LG loops up Eddie Kendrick’s “Intimate Friends” to create a soulful backdrop for Ill and Al to spit more game to the ladies and dirty mack in the process (Al: “Party goin’ on over here, no doubt, but your spouse, won’t let you out the house, your crusty lips blow him kisses, he makes promises and wishes, but all you really get to do is dishes”). The rhymes were entertaining, and the instrumental was irresistible.

Can You Feel It? – A little bit. If I had to get rid of one track on Keep It Movin’, this would be it. It’s not a horrible record (I kind of dig the soul vocal loop in the background); it’s just less entertaining than the rest of the album.

Bak Ta Bak – Ill and Al close things out with some M.O.P. energy. I like the track’s intensity, and it would have been nice to hear Fame and Billy rhyming with our hosts over this rugged backdrop. But even as is, it’s still solid.

It’s clear Ill and Al were more focused on rhyming on their second outing than they were on their first. Specifically, Al Skratch, who sounds surprisingly sharp on the mic. Throughout Keep It Movin’, he consistently delivers witty wordplay in his gruff vocal tone as he fully commits to his “pussy seeking, emcee battling, gun-toting thug” image. Ill doesn’t sound nearly as lyrically locked in, but his charisma (along with Al’s shoulder) keeps him afloat. The duo has an uncanny ability to seamlessly go from grimy street bars to softer raps tailored for the ladies, and it all sounds organic. Unlike most rappers who spit love/lust raps, Ill and Al’s don’t sound sappy or cliché, as their blunt approach to the subject makes it feel authentic.

The production on Keep It Movin’ is a blend of melodic R&B grooves, smooth bops, and grimy backdrops, which is the kind of musical diversity a versatile group like Ill Al Skratch needs to rhyme over. The content on Keep It Movin’ isn’t innovative or substantive, but the duo’s hood charm paired with a delicious batch of instrumentals makes for an entertaining and enjoyable 46-minute audio experience.

I mentioned during the opening of this write-up that Ill Al Skratch showed potential on their debut album. Ironically, on Keep It Movin’, the duo finally begins to walk in that potential, but the cold-hearted industry would tell them to keep it moving, putting an end to their rap career.

-Deedub
Follow me on Instagram @damontimeisillmatic

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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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