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More disappointingly, “The Bill Collecta” reteams Cham with “Ridin’” collaborator Krayzie Bone to little effect.Where the earlier track firmly lodged in its way in your head (and tended to stay there for weeks), the new one is instantly forgettable, a clunky, overproduced piece of affected paranoia.Tangentially, a little while back, I saw a homeless man holding a sign that read “drug free and I’m trying”, which really hit me on a gut level -- ‘cause trying counts for a lot, or should anyway.Here, Cham seems to be implicitly offering: “watching Keith Olbermann and The Daily Show and I’m trying”. Still, this unexpected foray into hot-button politics may be the big story on Ultimate Victory, but it’s not the best reason to buy the album. “Hip Hop Police”, with Slick Rick, feels like third-rate 50 Cent filler backed by a would-be “cinematic“, faux-Dre beat.Instead, the reasons to give Ultimate Victory a listen come when Chamillionaire isn’t giving himself a hernia in attempts to make grand statements or duplicate the success of his breakthrough hit. In fact, they make up the better half of the record.“Industry Groupie” plays like Chamillionaire’s answer to “Golddigger” or Eminem’s “Superman” or The Game’s “Wouldn’t Get Far” (or, you know, any song where a rapper disses women who like to sleep with rappers).And it’s not just a damn good rap record’s high point; more crucially, it’s convincing proof that there might, after all, be life after “Ridin’” for a rapper who previously seemed bound for one-hit wonder status. I do like some songs, but most of the time the mainstream stuff you hear on the radio is all stupid.
And then, for good measure: “George Bush is playing golf / everybody hush / he’s about to put." As far as hip-hop polemics go, there’s nothing here as incendiary as Juvenile’s “Get Ya Hustle On”, and Chamillionaire lacks Kanye’s lightning rod swagger; he may be trying too hard (“Call George Bush’s daughter / I’ll sell her Katrina water / just to get at her father,” he raps on “You Must Be Crazy”) but at least he’s trying.
“Rock Star”, produced by the late, great Disco D, is the set’s strongest banger.
The beat is fantastic; there’s so much going on -- stuttering synths, ominous keyb plinks, pep rally bleacher stomping.
My wife, who likes it more than I do, acutely observed that it’s interesting to hear a rap song where the rappers in question are freaked out by the same collection agencies that call and harass the rest of us at odd hours.
She has a point, but this potentially clever concept is lost to muddled execution.