Plies

The Dirty South is surely an inspiration for the ultra-cock,y yet super confident Plies and his latest thuggy and controversial platter, the cuss-laden Definition of Real. One thing's for certain on this disc; Plies makes no excuses, nor does he offer any apologies. In a scene where keepin' it real is a calling card, Plies is phoning home.

Amidst a backdrop of laidback beats that were easily born of lazy, hot n' humid summer days, Plies takes aim at hoes and bitches in a smooth delivery that never conveys too much intimidation. In essence, the tough talker never crosses the line. It's as though his chill vibe belies his hardcore lyrical fodder, which ends up sounding like trash-talking, more than it sounds like actual threats. Make no mistake, though. His mouthy lyrics are like pointed warheads deployed at anyone who makes him mad. They'll ruffle more than their fair share of feathers, but that doesn't stop Plies. It's not to say that Plies—real name Algernod Lanier Washington—promotes violence on Definition of Real. He's just deft at using lyrical barbs, and music is nothing if not a medium where all sorts of his fantasies can play out. The juxtaposition of bumping music with an aggressive lyrical bend somehow works, as long as listeners aren't inspired to replicate the words in real life.

The album blows the doors open with "I'm Da Man," which features a cameo by Trey Songz, before launching into the not-exactly-lady-friendly "Ol' Lady" and "Dat B***h." While some listeners might take issue with the misogynist tones, it's doubtful that Plies will give a shit, as he's just doing his thang. So, lean back.

— Amy Sciarretto
06.23.08

Not even a year had passed since his debut, but the second time around Florida rapper Plies displays great growth. His lyrics here are sharper than those on his debut with the trials, tribulations, and triumphs he's experienced living the street life coming through loud and clear. This journey isn't for the weak-hearted, however, as Plies is an unapologetic beast who -- to paraphrase the frightening "Bushes" -- didn't come for your money, but came for your life. "Bushes" is a vivid lesson on how to catch and gut a snitch that could only be written by someone made hard by prison. Even more vicious is "Ol' Lady"'s attitude toward women who, in this case, are commodities used to pay off outstanding loans in lieu of cash. This is guys' night out without any moral compass with one grand exception, "1 Day," a heartbreaking letter to a friend on lockup where Plies wishes he could take his incarcerated homie "by the day care to see his son play/And go to show him how his baby mama went astray." Despite its great Patti LaBelle sample, "Somebody (Loves You)" is less convincing and seems forced upon the album like the other radio-friendly tracks -- "Bust It Baby, Pt. 2" with Ne-Yo, and "Please Excuse My Hands" with the Dream. The compelling three-quarters of Definition of Real that seems to have crawled out of the gutter proves that Plies is best off when he does it the ski-mask way. ~ David Jeffries, Rovi