Rick Ross is the Gorman Thomas of rappers. Forever swinging for the fences, he blasts a home run once in a while but strikes out much more frequently. On Deeper Than Rap, Ross is as bombastic as ever, despite being exposed as a former corrections officer last year by The Smoking Gun and mocked on 50 Cent’s Web site by his baby mama. (Ouch.) Here Ross claims that his mom stores guns in the attic for him on “Rich Off Cocaine,” which is surely as untrue as the song’s title itself. This would be forgivable if Deeper Than Rap were a fun listen, but it’s just as grating as his earlier works; Ross has never been able to rap competently, and his mealymouthed rhymes are as difficult to listen to as they are offensive: “Selling dope / Counting money / Keep my dick hard / Time to bust it wide open for a big boy,” he tells us on “Face.” Though there are a few long-balls — T-Pain saves “Maybach Music 2” and Nas makes “Usual Suspects” interesting — the vast majority of the tracks are nauseating. Considering this is Ross’s third album of criminally preposterous music, it must be said — three strikes, you’re out, Bawss.
This article appears in Jun 25 – Jul 1, 2009.