Geto Boys were low-brow humor at its finest during the
heyday of gangsta rap — on the surface, that is. What most people did not get
was the fact that the Geto Boys were a joke, a sort of commentary on the
then-current scene in hip-hop. Sadly, their satire flew over the collective
populace's head, and they were lumped into the "what is wrong with America
today" niche.

What does that little bit of history have to do with this
album, you ask? Well, it seems Scarface has not been able to shake the punk-kid
mentality from his Geto Boy years. A line like "And real gangsta-ass niggas
don't run for shit/ 'Cause real gangsta-ass niggas can't run fast" from "Damn It
Feels" is great when delivered by a 20-something, but when Scarface drops a
line like "Money, power and respect was the life I chose/ Being famous wasn't
nothin'/ I just liked my dough" from "Big Dog Status," at his age, just seems
like he is holding onto the past like that middle-aged guy at a Slayer show
sporting a skullet because cutting his hair would not be "metal."

"Git Out My Face" might be the most juvenile song on the
album. It sports three minutes of the very misogyny that the Geto Boys only
joked about 15 year ago. For a guy pushing 40, stereotyping women as nothing
more than a place to house one's dick is just pathetic.

However, "Dollar" could have been just another song where a
rapper brags about his bank account, but instead is an honest discussion
plainly stating that the world revolves around the title's ideal. The song,
along with "Who Do You Believe In" and "Boy Meets Girl," shows some level of
maturity in an album full of missed opportunities. "Boy" might be the best song
lyrically; it tells the story of a boy who meets a girl and the subsequent Shakespearean
tragic end. The man can still tell one hell of a story.

The album's production is impressive considering the names
are not household to any extent. N.O. Joe produces or co-produces half the cuts
and does a fantastic job of keeping the hook catchy yet complex and just below
the foreground so as to not drown out the vocal track. The best example of this
is "Burn," where the sparse hook, well, burns in the background, only to be
found and appreciated through multiple plays.

At a mere 43 minutes, the album is devoid of any real filler
— if you can get past the ridiculous lyrics, that is. The production is some of
the best this year, and Scarface, despite being trapped in a mindset half of
his age, still commands the mic like he always did. It is simply a damn shame
he has so little to say.

3 out of 5 stars