"Window" is very telling of Fes' unique lane in the game. Overtop a futuristic rendition of Billy Squire's "Big Beat," with Scarface-like synth lines, Taylor namechecks his G-Unit brothers, while bragging about his handskills, lifestyle with an air of paranoia. The rapping is hardly supreme, but with ad-libs and hard-nosed delivery, Fes certainly channels the most commercial-digestible sound of Ghostface [click to read]. "Ocean Drive" is far more club-driven. With Euro-Tech samples, this might be trying to do what T.I.'s "Life Your Life" or Wiz Khalifa's "Say Yeah" succeeded in, but the song fails. From rhyming about riding scooters in Miami, switching to bagging up work in the next verse, it's not that Fes Taylor is spitting fiction, he's just making a really disjointed song, pandering for club play. Those aforementioned dues paid are told on "Bang Bang," from first appearances to Summer Jam accolades, to the recurring theme of flying G5's or better. That private jet, hustler-made-good lifestyle drives the album. "Sky Walker" is a polished, original commercial track that could be sporting a Grand Hustle jacket, with radio-play potential.

Like Fes Taylor's unusual content, the production of Flight 10304 defies a lot of expectations. Inspectah Deck, in addition to three vocal features, lends his production skills to "CMG Salutes La Banga." The slow, dramatic '70s Soul eulogy is a tributary end to an album that may move too fast to care. The rest of the album is an unbalanced mix of bass-driven South tracks, like the "Hustlin'" reworking that is "Bang Bang" or the charismatic and chaotic "Feeling Myself," by Flip. Then Battery Jackson turns around and brings down Soul samples beautifully before our ears on "Broken Wings," that feels more Wu-Tang than any concoction on the album.

Similar to La The Darkman, Fes Taylor is a rapper that uses believability to carry a respect that resonates in his Park Hill Projects all the way to Ocean Drive. While the cars and airfare that fill up his verses remain to be seen, what's more curious is how this patient discipline sharpened his lyrical swords under the tutelage of The Rebel INS. Just when one thinks that Fes Taylor is a mundane street rapper, he brings it back in with his story, or a sprinkle of aged lyricism that prevents him from type-casting. Although others have made better, more enduring albums, few Wu-Tang Clan pupils have taken their sound in this direction, still remembering the original science.