Words.
"The saddest thing about this album: you want to root for CuDi but he sabotages himself at every turn whether it’s through noodly non-rap, beats that would make later-day Jungle Brothers cringe or lyrics seemingly stolen from a Rhymesayers opening act’s moleskin rhymebook. The kid feels completely lost in the middle of his own album, swallowed up by bad ideas and a bizarre need to become rap’s Terrence Trent D’Arby. He’s that slightly nerdy stoner kid in high school who suddenly discovers Vice magazine and tries to switch his style up but can’t quite pull it off. Hopefully next go around, he gets it together because he’s not untalented, just trying way too hard at all the wrong things."
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