The Naked Truth
Now this isn't to say she hasn't or isn't capable of making some good music. I can listen to empty, meaningless drivel with a dope beat behind it. I do it all the time. Plus with her ghostwriters, her skank-talk can at least sound good sometimes. The buzz for this album was not only provoked by her ensuing trip to the clink, but by The Source giving her 5 mics. It doesn't matter that the magazine is years removed from having any credibility from anyone with half a brain, or that she could suck her way to at least an extra half mic. They still haven't given 5 mics to a bad album, or even one that wasn't dope. So I expected to at least her a good album here, albeit on an empty level.
I was so very wrong. Things get jumping nicely as Kim spells her way to a nice joint in "Spell Check," but they fall apart in a hurry. First with the awful 'Rasta-Kim' "Lighters Up," then with the gut-wrenching "Shut Up Bitch." I would say "Whoa" is a pretty good little club banger, until a woman who is making her best efforts to become white refers to herself as Malcolm X. "Quiet" starts off on a pretty good note with Kim jackin' Em's cadence from "The Way I Am," but it quickly wades into mediocrity with more beefin.' It happens right around the time Kim makes a ghostwriting crack at Foxy...pot, kettle, black. The turrible continues with "Durty" and 'Rasta-Kim' rearing her ugly surgery-mangled face again.
From there it is more shitty music and irritating skits (which litter the album of course). Aside from the couple already mentioned, "Slippin," "All Good" and "Get Yours" are the only listenable songs on the album (and are all dope, I won't deny). I wasn't expecting a classic, but I wasn't expecting a bad album either. This is bad. If this is what passes off as good album to the masses these days, much less great, or God forbid a classic...then this game is even worse shape than I thought.