The trend continues with Stunna's 2nd solo album. To say that it's more of the same from Cash Money is accurate on one level, but it doesn't do justice to the quality of the album. Baby hasn't mutated into Talib Kweli or Saul Williams. The fat, danceable southern beats are still there. And he's still spitting about moving crack, pimpin', and expensive stuff he owns.

That said, this album never feels stale or like a repeat of past work. The production, handled mostly by Mannie and newcomer Deezle, is consistently good, save for a couple of misfires. The stutter-stepping-snare-drum funk of Big Pimpin' and the engaging mid-tempo strings on Ghetto Life are a couple favorites. Out the Ghetto features Chop singing a really nice hook over a track which fuses Organized Noize-esque funk with New Orleans bounce. Around the World switches the program up a little, with a soul sample that gives the track a flavor that's more NY than anything else on the album. Still, everything fits well together.

Lyrically, the album is good for what it is. Stunna's flow has been improving slowly since the mid 90's, and this furthers the evolution. Yes, the cartoonish excess of the label where the term "bling bling" was coined continues. But the album has its insightful moments, as on Neck of the Woods, which features Lil Wayne and feels more like an honest portrait of ghetto life than anything else. Cash Money has always had a sense of humor too (largely thanks to Mannie. I believe). And that element is present too, especially on the Big Tymers duet We Gettin' It On. It parallel's The Carter's Hoes but one can't help but laugh at Mannie and Baby trading back and forth with a couplet for each letter of the alphabet about a colorful assortment of women.

Guests abound on the album, and that's a good thing. 6 Shot brings his leather vocal chords to three tracks. Lil Carl drops a hook on Cash Money Niggaz. Bun B shows up and adds a "Free Pimp C" cry to (what seems like) his 800th guest verse of 2005. And of course, the Birdman Jr. is here, lighting up three tracks. He's around for what I consider the best cut on the album, the last track, Get Your Shine On. Wayne spits fire: "I make your mouthpiece obese like Della Reese/I'm from the south streets, a beast like little Wee-zy/F. Baby, for the team I rep daily/I come to the defense like Champ Bailey/I'm gone widdit..."

Overall, I'm happy with this release. It's not a perfect record, but I don't think it claims to be. It does, however, realize its full potential as an album, and show a level of professionalism and craft that put it above most similar releases. After a decade or so of grinding, Cash Money finally seems ready to take their act to a national stage, and for that, I see this album as a step in the right direction.