Why in the world, after you've admitted to the whole world that you can't rhyme, would you release an album? This, among other questions ran through my head as I listened to the latest travesty coming from Cash Money. Being simplistic can be a good thing, but these brothers carry it to the point of idiocy.

The production isn't actually that bad, and like much of Mannie Fresh's production it's easy to move to and could keep heads bouncing in a club. But with all the "rappers" (and I use the term VERY loosely here) in the Cash Money Empire, why would Mannie Fresh and Bryan "Baby" Williams feel the need to desecrate microphones themselves?

Lyrically, this album is worse than horrible. A prime example of these new levels of wackness is the first single, "Get Your Roll On." As seen on TV, slow, disjointed, arrhythmic mutterings that pass for verses are provided by the duo. Guest artists appear on pretty much every track, and in this case, it's a good thing, because this way we're not forced to listen to the nonsensical styling of two can't-rhyming-ass-niggas for too long. (Although, after the Intro, I had already heard more of them than I wanted to.) Unfortunately, all of the guest artists are also on Cash Money, so what should have been a break is really just another example of lyrical ineptitude. Even the guest singers, who should be a welcome change of pace at this time, can't sing! This is an album. They can take the time to do multiple takes, making sure that the person singing in singing in key. Nope, that would be too much like caring about the quality of the finished project. Listen to the off-key warbling of Unp lugged on "Pimp On." The usual platinum, ice, dollars, bling bling, bitch, wodie rhymes are all over this album as well, showcasing once again the one dimensional nature of the label.

So, basically, what we have here are a bunch of recycled ideas (for the umpteenth time) and this weeks version of the wack rhymes of the minute. The production, which is supposedly the high point, isn't that bad, but neither is it that good. And yet, uncomprehensibly, they continue to sell millions of albums with major label support while talented artists languish in obscurity. Sometimes there's no justice.

Standout tracks on this album are like going through the pile of laundry to find the least dirty clothes. Basically, once you accept the fact that everything is sub-par, you can listen for the best beats. These include, "We Ain't Stoppin'," "Hard Life," "Stuntastic," and "Big Tymers." Unfortunately, even the best beat is murdered by the inept rhymes of the "artists" (again I use the term loosely) on this album.

The final verdict: pure, unadulterated garbage. Don't waste your hard earned money on this crap, there's lots of good hip-hop out there. There's even mediocre hip-hop, which is orders of magnitude better than this. Those who like repetitive, pointless music, join the ranks of the lemmings pushing this album to platinum status. Just don't say you weren't warned you how bad it was. Anyone need a new frisbee?