Lil Wayne -- Birdman Jr., or Jay-Z's kid brother?

Here's the thing -- I've had DJ Drama & Lil Wayne's Dedication 2 for a while now, and I've been tryin' to review it, but I can never finish it. I almost felt like just goin' "Wayne drops some hot freestyle-ish, punchline-heavy raps over a selection of hot beats of the day, mostly of the Southern variety" and bein' done with it. Albeit hopefully better-worded than that. But there really ain't much more to say 'bout it.

Lil Wayne, if you ain't been payin' attention to word on the streets (AKA rap blogs and Pitchfork,) has become somethin' of a hate-or-love rapper lately. He's on some crazy sh*t lyrically. He's lyrically sh*t. He drops funny-*ss punchlines. He drops retarded punches. He raps 'bout bein' a hustler even though he's been under the Cash Money Records wing since he was a fetus or somethin'. He kissed his surrogate dad on the mou...alright, let's not go into that.

My take? Not to sound all waffley 'bout it, but I feel like the truth is somewhere in-between the haters and the stans. I don't think you can objectively come away from some of Weezy's material and say he's completely untalented, regardless of whether you like dude or not. But I haven't experienced a Pitchforkian "OMIGOD THIS IS ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!" style reaction to most of his work so far.

Wayne's Dedication 2 mixtape is a useful comparison point for why I find Tha Carter II so easy to like. While I think it's fair to say that Wayne's noticeably improved as an emcee on his mixtapes since this dropped -- developin' and experimentin' with more original and better flows -- this is just plain more cohesive and easier to listen to (and to review.) As a studio album, it finds Wayne somewhat more constrained by your same ol' same ol' rap cliches -- I'm on deez streets, I'm hot cuz I'm fly you ain't cuz you not, holla at me girl, I miss my homies -- but this actually helps give things more structure, as opposed to his mixtapes where he'll occasionally veer off into utterly bizarre territory. Drugs're bad, mmmk?

My initial problem with Wayne actually didn't have anything to do with some of the standard complaints 'bout dude. I was put off at first because he has a _real_ high, nasally voice. I've read it described as a "croak," and that's kinda-sorta accurate. Thankfully that ain't been a problem for me with Tha Carter II, probably cuz I'm used to it by this point plus I think Wayne is less cuckoo with switchin' up his vocal tone here. I'd definitely recommend at least samplin' some of this album beforehand though, just to see for yourself.

SO, enough ramblin', how 'bout the album. There's been comparisons drawn between both Carter LPs and Jay-Z's style, and ya can immediately tell why. Besides the obvious "look they got the same last name!" thing, the cover art here is on some Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life meets Blueprint sh*t. And Wayne even attempts to start off the album in grand Dynasty Roc La Familia fashion, rappin' straight through intro track "Tha Mobb" with no break. He does a good job of showin' off his flow prowess here, even though the track runs a little long and the tryin'-to-be-epic production is ever-so-slightly underwhelming. You'll soon find this to be a recurrin' issue with the album -- it's not that the production's BAD mind ya, in fact most of it's solid. It's just that there ain't a lotta blow-you-away beats here, which ya can chalk up to the relatively obscure producers who contribute. On the soul-sampling beats in particular, ya can't help but shake the feeling, "this woulda been cooler if Kanye or Just Blaze laced it..."

One exception to the general good-not-great beats rule here is "Money on My Mind," which is MY sh*t. Liked that "Hustlin'" joint last summer, but wanted to hear someone other than Jeezy Jr. rappin' on it? That's what this is -- seriously, the beat's almost exactly the same, down to the drawn-out horns and synths, and 'course the sizzurp'd vocals on the hook. Makes sense, since it was helmed by "Hustlin'" producers The Runners, who seem to have mastered the art of copying the same beat over and over again and somehow still makin' it sound dope. Don't worry though, it ain't all 'bout the beat -- Weezy lightens up the typical "on the grind gettin' money" subject matter with some choice lines, including the hilariously juvenile/nonsensical boast "Dear Mr. Toilet, I'm the sh*t/Got these other haters p*ssed cuz my toilet paper thick." Rick Rawls this ain't!

Wayne definitely does best here where he's straight-up braggin' and throwin' in left-field punchlines/simimetaphors to go with it (and if you thought that stupid-funny quote was jez plain stupid, he's got some relatively more straightforward ones for ya here.) A great example of this is "Best Rapper Alive," featurin' a head-noddin' rocked-out beat that's one of the best on the album -- Weezy goes full-force over the whole thing, at one point goin' "The young heartattack, I spit that cardiac" as well as chanting the song's title for the hook. Ironically enough, this might be my favorite cut on the album. "Feel Me" repeats this formula to more sentimental-ish effect, containin' a pseudo-interview interspersed between verses as Wayne spits over the Doe Boys' best Kanye-soul impression. It's another one of the better tracks here, but ya can't help but feel like Lil Weezy's a little outta his league-zee (hee-hee...aight sorry) here. This seems to me like the type of song that'd be a lot more meaningful if it was done at the end of a successful career, over more epic-soundin' production. You know, like...

...Jay-Z. Now, while Wayne's made comparisons between the two inevitable with his "best rapper alive since the best rapper retired"/"I'm better than Jay" remarks (and apparently doin' a mixtape full of Black Album freestyles a coupla years ago,) I wouldn't say his flow here is completely derivative of Jay's. Elements of it do definitely recall circa Blueprint-era Hov, but Wayne's got a little more of a zany, less-controlled quality to his raps. This's 'specially true on "Weezy Baby," which despite the completely silly concept (get a new nickname bro) finds Wayne rappin' in a more stop-and-start style, and engagin' in some pretty amusin' free-associative rhymes in the second verse. "I'm a DBoy" comes across much the same way, as Weezy's goofy-sounding hook and lighter delivery almost sounds like comedy next to Cash Money co-founder Birdman's deadpan, can't-rhyme-for-shyte verse. It's really Wayne's delivery and wit that lets the more grimy subject matter on the album go down easier -- if you switched 'im out with Birdman, I'd probably be bangin' my head 'gainst the wall by the end of the first song.

'Course, unlike some of his Dirty South compadres Weezy ain't crossed over to the mainstream in a big way yet, and hearin' the album you can tell why. There's really nothin' here that jumps out at ya as a viable hit single -- lead single "Fireman" has some nice-enough Southern-synth bounce and solid verses from Wayne, but the hook's really more obnoxious than catchy, and the whole concept of the song comes off as more than a little silly. "You can spark it up but I'ma put you out?" C'mon now. "Grown Man" is your for-the-ladies club jam that suffers from the same "diet dope, not dope enough!" dilemma -- it's good for what it is, but it's nothin' memorable, and features a forgettable turn from Wayne's monotone-voiced protege Currency. "Hustler Musik" does manage to improve on the formula of "Fireman," usin' some addictive synth-horns and an overall waah-waah funk feel that makes it real easy to vibe to, if not quite as "crank that sh*t!"-worthy as "Money on My Mind."

One (failed) single here that's easily one of the album's standout tracks, though, is "Shooter." Despite the fact that it suffers from a bit of an odd matchup -- it was originally a Robin Thicke track without Wayne's raps added in -- it's got some great future-funkish production goin' on courtesy of Thicke, and Weezy spits some in-your-face verses reppin' the South in-between Thicke's sung verses. A little odd that he chose this extremely un-Southern beat to go "This is Southern, face it" over though, no?

I've probably made it abundantly clear by this point that Wayne's steez is more flow and punchlines than in-depth lyricism, but if you're a sucker for that sorta thing, Wayne takes a coupla detours here for ya. "Receipt" is another Kanyeezy-ish number that Wayne dedicates to his girl, and "Get Over" is your reflective "for the streets" joint. Probably the most impressive of the more serious tracks here, though, is the trio of "Fly In," "Carter II," and "Fly Out," each of which appears at at the beginning, the middle, and the end of the album respectively. All of 'em use the same effectively dramatic, almost bleak piano-n-strings beat and find Wayne at his most defensive-soundin' on the album -- they end up soundin' more genuine than the rest of the introspective song quota here. "Carter II" in particular helps jump-start things after a few relatively borin' tracks that find Wayne spittin' more generic gangsta talk than usual.

I gotta say, I really don't think I'da had such a "WTF" reaction to Weezy initially if this'd been my introduction. While the Dedication 2 mixtape may show a new-and-improved Wayne in terms of raw technique, it took more than a few listens for me to really "get" that album -- and let's not get into his latest drug-haze, what-the-hell're-you-rappin'-'bout mess of a double-mixtape (!) with Da Drought 3. For the unfamiliar and interested, Tha Carter II is a good place to start with Wayne. It's far from perfect, but with more production polish and some better lyrical focus from Wayne it's definitely a template he could improve on if he wants Tha Carter III to be his breakthrough/classic -- and with all the big-name production onboard there, it'll be interesting to see how that one turns out.

Southern score on Trey's rap review sheet: 2 for 3 (not counted: Ludacris is a standup comedian, and Timbaland, Missy and OutKast are from outerspace)