Rick Ross

It's been a tough year for Mr. Ricky Ross. First, his entire background as an incredibly wealthy drug dealer—as trotted out, ad infinitum, in his songs—was almost completely demolished when it came to light that he had been employed as a Florida corrections officer in years past. Following these potentially career-destroying revelations, he became embroiled in a much-publicized rap beef with 50 Cent, one that saw 50 release a pornographic video of one of Ross' ex-girlfriends, and a video of him taking one of Ross' children's mother's out shopping for a fur coat. It was embarrassing stuff, and in a rap culture so predicated on image and authenticity, it would have been understandable for Ross to fold it in and go live off the riches off his first two albums.

Instead, he came out and released the best album of his career. Gone is the plodding, simplistic flow from before, replaced with a new, tighter one that showcases a newfound focus on internal rhyme schemes and polysyllables. The production is uniformly excellent, updating Miami's traditionally lush, synth-driven sound with horns and soul (peep the Lil Wayne, Kanye West and T-Pain-featuring "Maybach Music 2"). Not gone, though, are the inflated tales of Ross' street past, but it's difficult for the listener to care too much about that when a little more than half of the album is, lyrical artifice or not, incredible.

When the album lags, though, it really lags. Ross has overloaded what could have been a career-defining classic with too many overblown R n' B singer-featuring tracks, all of which trot out the same old recycled clichés of excess rap that tend to make it so repetitive in the first place—money, drugs, and girls. The middle of the album alone features a completely superfluous Ne-Yo track, a slightly apneatic Robin Thicke feature, and guest spots from also-rans Trina and Foxy Brown—all these in addition to nine other guest spots on the album. The overloaded album makes it all the more depressing when one considers that most of the tracks that feature just Ross—"Mafia Music," "Valley of Death," and "In Cold Blood"—are clear highlights.

Despite Ross' apparent reluctance to carry the weight of the entire album on his hefty shoulders, though, he has certainly put to rest the haters for a minute now. Untruths be damned, Ross has dropped one of the best albums of the year so far, and the unraveling of his image has, paradoxically, done more to reveal the substance beneath than anything else.

—Matthew Mundy
04.23.09

Everything is big with Rick Ross. Triumphs, blunders, singles, videos, and everything else he does is huge, but having the audacity to call his third effort Deeper Than Rap is extra risky, especially since it's his first effort since being "exposed" as a former corrections officer. That's poison in the gangsta rap game, and while there's little here to sway the haters -- and certainly nothing "deep" -- the rapper's ability to steamroll over all of his shortcomings, along with all of our preconceived notions, is simply remarkable. In a sure trilogy of albums, Deeper Than Rap is the surest, kicking off with a decent 50 Cent diss and closing with a "Run with me or run from me" ultimatum that's gutsy enough to feature harps and castanets. While that's enough fuel for the haters to burn the whole place down, anyone willing to ignore Ross' iffy relationship with street cred and his incredibly narrow subject matter (money, women, victory) will find Deeper is the superstar, gangster weekend album done right. Boss of them all is the grand "Maybach Music" with T-Pain, Kanye West, and Lil Wayne all in top form. Same goes for the cut's production team, the J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League, who are also in charge of the slippery and swaggering "Magnificent" with John Legend, plus the Caribbean-flavored highlight "Yacht Club." "Face," with Trina, is the street cut of note, and "Usual Suspects" places in the album's top five, although Nas' loyal fanbase will find his contribution rather ordinary. Redundancy is an unsurprising and ignorable issue thanks to all the hooks and slick beats, including a batch from the returning Runners. Even if this isn't much "Deeper" than the average Three 6 Mafia album, the glitz and guts of Deeper are a big step up, making Ross sound like a Miami-fied version of Young Jeezy. ~ David Jeffries, Rovi