guests: canibus, m.o.p., busta rhymes, apani, lady luck, method man, shabaam sahdeeq, common, talib kweli

Every now and then an album comes along where you know you will be sitting down to it, in arms reach from the rewind button, with lyrics that just mess up your head. Every year they are few. This year, some of 'em are: Dr. Dooom. Eminem. Scarub. Pharoahe Monch.

"For no formidable fights I've been formed to forget / for Pharoahe fucks familiar foes first / before follow female MC's fiercely" he rhymes on "Hell". And it’s just ridiculous when he spits: "I scatter data that'll hammer niggas' catamaran then / around yaks cop figures like not stranded / the last batter to hit, blast shattered your hit / smash any splitter or fastball, that'll be it / didn't figure the ridiculous flow will hit vigorously / triggering a rigorous amount of energy / that'll be definitely needed defeat a foe who retreated / back, see no need to repeated it / permission to shine, stop this and rewind that" on "The Next Shit".

And having to quote more, let’s continue with sports rhymes on "Official": "serve a slot, a curve-splitter-knuckleball-spitter-change / every rhyme hid a bitter note, quote ‘get a game’ / not Allen Iverson, forget crossing-over shake men / similar to Troy, I bring the pain destined to Aikman / break men off, take men out, make me wanna slander / prime time, my rhyme defense beyond Deion Sanders / I walk the earth with my Rod in this Strickland / promise, people thought I was Thomas Hearns the way I Hit Man". And maybe one of the most intense songs, considering the lyrics, must be "Rape". Spitting venom, he goes "consider this: the loops are similar to clitorises exposed / on your miss is a hole, a vicious cycle of sin / that doesn't end ‘till I stop fuckin' / a million emcees and they ain't sayin' nuttin' / ain't fuckin it right, they ain't fuckin' it right / ... / they ain't fuckin' it like...me / to hell wit' 1980 remixes, fuck disco / turned on the 3000, stuck my dick where the disc go / yokonaz, ripped the sexy MPC 60, buyin' a ticket to hell / verbally dickin' the 12 down, sound shitty / I knew she used to be gritty / too many impotent emcees in this God forsaken city" and earlier in the track "witness a nigga who will take rap and chase it / through an occupied dimly lit staircases and rape it / grab the drums by the waistline / I snatch the kick, kick the snares, sodomize the bassline / never waste time, I give the verse rabies / cum on the chorus, tell the hook to swallow my babies".

Man, after all that lyrical complexity, all you need is banging beat, and you would have a complete Album. And let’s say Monch is halfway there. Shit is banging on the jazzy "The Light" and "The Truth" (with Kweli and Common), both courtesy by Diamond D, everybody knows "Simon Says", but that self produced track is that much a banger, it should heat up all cold winter gatherings for some time to come. The strings of "No Mercy" are nice too (hooked up by The Alchemist), as is the fun and tongue in cheek nasty "The Ass" (feat. Apani B-Fly Emcee), again produced by Diamond, while Monch can’t help himself dropping lines like "nuts ripped up with the brain all in it" even on a track like that.

Other things notable on this album are Monch teaming up with the other half of Organized Konfusion Prince Poetry on one track, Canibus showing up, and Lady Luck, Method Man, Redman, Shabaam Sahdeeq and Busta being on the "Simon Says" Remix. And finally notable are once again the lyrics that should keep you brain in motion for more than just a hot minute.

While there are some awkward moments of "hmmmm" on the album too, notably during a quotations enhanced "Intro" or an amazingly weak offering by DJ Scratch, and the strangeness of having M.O.P. and Busta Rhymes (the beat is also too ‘Latin’) on the album. And the realization that the beats are nice, but pale in comparison to the lyrics, prevents this album from having that last knack that would have taken it over the top.