Rapper The Game returns as vicious as ever in throwback form to his West Coast predecessors in his third album “LAX”.
Straight out of Compton, the former Washington State baasketball player is back on the mic in an attempt to dominate the gangsta’ rap genre and solidify his seat among the ranks of Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, Tupac and the like on what could be his last album.
The Game rolls through 19 tracks with piety in his words and ice in his veins, embellishing street life, his own life and the ghetto mentality.
Tracks on this album owe gratitude to numerous lyricists like Nas, Common, Lil’ Wayne, Ice Cube and others who add audacity.
“LAX” is laced with the classic West Coast hip-hop feel, set down by his mentor for N.W.A. and in “The Chronic.”
Within the gangsta mentality, the album paradoxically begins as it ends, with a prayer from DMX asking for deliverance from the evils and temptations that are placed before him, from addiction, anger, greed, envy and lust.
The plea, “Devil we rebuke you in the name of Jesus” is stated emphatically as if to demand immediate redemption and unwarranted instant gratification.
The first three songs hit hard and set a fiery pace.
Game starts with “LAX Files,” chronicles of life in the City of Angels, and the tribulations he endured living the street game, taking a bullet, making it look easy with Snoop.
“California ain’t a state it’s an army.” The chorus for the third track re-emphasizes the evils from the previous track and gives light to the violent life apparent on the streets across America.
After an aggressive launch, Lil’ Wayne helps bring it down with a classic “Roll Up” song in “My Life.” Although the beat may be tuned down, the content still rings with the struggles of hood life that resonate throughout the record.
Leaving the serious note aside, Cali Sunshine delivers an ode to the laidback California lifestyle, backyard barbecuing and cruising in the drop top.
This disc is spotted with malignant patches.
Ludacris destroys track eight, “Ya Heard,” lacking any real direction in his pompous attempt to be “the man.”
Much of the middle of the disc falls victim to this same atrocity. “Dope Boys,” “Angel” and “Let Us Live” all simply scream the played-out message that has infected and decayed much of the rap available today.
Among some of the unsatisfactory songs, The Game does deliver on tracks such as “Never Can Say Goodbye,” where he gives credence to the dearly departed and influential Notorious B.I.G., Eazy E and Tupac; and in “Letter to the King,” where Nas helps deliver this politically aware civil rights ballad.
Although lacking in substantial content, “LAX” delivers all the undertones of the savage existence of the West Coast gangsta and his tenacious climb to the zenith of rap culture.
The demons of The Game are vividly reproduced through his brute words, his greed, gluttony and lust which areportrayed through his Machiavellian message.
This album ruthlessly perpetuates the stagnation of gangsta’ rap and diminishes the notoriety gained from his last two productions.