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Product details
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| Disc: 1 | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| 1. Intro (skit) | |||
| 2. What Up Gangsta | |||
| 3. Patiently Waiting - feat. Eminem | |||
| 4. Many Men (Wish Death) | |||
| 5. In Da Club | |||
| 6. High All The Time | |||
| 7. Heat | |||
| 8. If I Can't | |||
| 9. Blood Hound - feat. Young Buck of G Unit | |||
| 10. Back Down | |||
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| Disc: 2 | |||
| 1. In Da Club (Acapella) | |||
| 2. Wanksta Video | |||
| 3. Exclusive CD Rom Footage | |||
The excellent "Wanksta" was pulled onto the 8 Mile soundtrack and Dr Dre produced the crunching first single, "In Da Club". Jamaican Sean Paul puts his now familiar patter on the hypnotic "Dem Not Ready". "If You Want It" is a ridiculously rude party joint, while "Cocaine Dreams" takes a pop at Ja Rule. "Got the Hood on Smash" is, undoubtedly, damn funky. Sadly his first single "How to Rob an Industry N***A" (reminiscent of B.I.G's equally scabrous "Dreams") doesn't appear. Even the most hardcore have to tone it down sometimes. --Jake Barnes
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With an ego as bloated as his ridiulous naked torso, 50 Cent had a lot to deliver on his pre-hyped reputation. Does he deliver? Well, no and it's hard to see quite why he was ever signed in the first place. For a start, and probably the finish, he can't rap. Plain and simple. Mr Jackson's mumbling wordplay trips over words, lacks conviction and makes for poor, witless observations. For example, "I love you like a fat kid loves cake". Honestly, what's the point?
"So he's laconic? So's Snoop and he's great!" I hear you say. And that's true, the only difference being that the Dogg could run verbal rings around this slow-witted abuser of the English language. He's also a smart, colourful and acid-tongued character, a sharp contrast to "Fiddy's" charm-less thug persona. In fact, every one of this album's guests only serve to highlight what a pointless performer the main star actually is.
A constant and unwholly unjustified criticism of rap/hip-hop by those who don't get/like it, is that it's talentless. This album reinforces that opinion. By trading on an image that reflects every negative and boorish sentiment of rap's past 20 years, 50 Cent spits out the least-worthy genre title to emerge in recent times. The album's saving grace, should it have one, is its polished production and sample-heavy backbeats. They're the bits that people remember, not the clumsy fool on the mic. For that, the one star rating is wholly justified.
50 Cent? Should be the recommended retail price...
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