At first, I wanted to write my review in rhyme, but then I decided that I’d just be wasting my time–and, of course, that it would be asinine.
Why?
Because that’s about all Lloyd Banks’ Rotten Apple is good for.
Each song’s beats and accompanying strings repeat. Believe me, it’s no treat to hear a 20-second sound clip play over like a record player that’s stuck. But that’s what hip-hop’s all about, isn’t it?
Rotten Apple is an album fit for a gangster (of course we’re here in Utah, so I’ll correct myself–“wankster”). It’s all about nines, hoes/sex, thrills, dollar bills, shooting gangsters up and getting them killed–and all about Banks being the number one “G”, with the occasional slip into the imagery of New York City. Lyrically, all in all Banks delivers what the masses expect.
Rotten Apple’s leverage is straightforward and direct; Banks’ exertion comes to fruition through excellent production. It’s basically a stellar, average excursion into mainstream rap, as a matter of fact–and anybody reading this can quote me on that.
The 16 tracks can get long, and some choruses ruin a couple of songs (they’re just like my article’s flow, I know it gets sour–what do you want? I wrote this in an hour).
Guests include: Yayo, Rakim, Young Buck, Scarface and 8ball, 50 Cent, Mobb Deep and Musiq Soulchild. Of course, there are others–so many brothers–that I won’t even bother. Rappers are always together; I think that they’re lovers.
So, as I was saying, Rotten Apple hovers just below great, as if it were playing, toying and teasing with us. But whatever the case, it’s a decent, good album, definitely pleasing enough.
Peace?uh?uh?yeah, yeah?uh yeah?
