In a day and age where hustling on records is about as common as a rap-based reality show, Rick Ross validated his “bigg dogg status” his first go around with platinum credentials unlike the majority of his drug-affiliated counterparts. With his prestigious style and husky vocals that were instantly recognizable and marketable on several fronts, the other bearded rapper had no difficulties finding his way onto popular remixes and proving he was worth the weight he was constantly pushin’. Back for the re-up, Ross indubitably dodges the sophomore slump with the high-octane Trilla. Packed with grade-A production and fluid lyricism, the album still manages to have its low points with the majority of the songs sounding like they were cut from the same ki.

Naturally, Ross is at his strongest with accounts of unearthly wealth, stuffing money down the listener’s throats like some sort of ghetto Ted Diabiase. But through the predictability, there’s prosperity and therein lies the true essence of Trilla. On the road to riches, Mr. M.I.A. holds his own up against Jay-Z’s sly wit on the plush “Maybach Music” as well as the dreamy soundscape devised by J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League on “Billionaire.”

Showing some versatility, the ig’nant but enjoyable “Money Make Me Come” booms with the traditional sluggish beat-n-rhyme style heard from most Southerners nowadays, while the buoyant “We Shinin” calls for celebration like the game winning touchdown. And when he’s in his zone, like on J.R. Rotem’s blaring masterpiece “The Boss,” Ross can even make a T-Pain hook look rather pointless with his ability to command the track effortlessly.

However, all the commotion in the production and tales of coke flippin’ eventually takes it toil as the appeal wears off and the sound becomes redundant. “This Me,” with its lagging horns and bland chorus, fails to separate itself from anything else being recycled on the album while elsewhere, Ross wastes a complex rhyme pattern over a messy rhapsody on “Reppin’ My City” where the Triple C’s and Brisco don’t mesh any better with the madness. And the requisite “life” joint, “I’m Only Human,” feels completely out of place amongst the rest of the unapologetic kingpin capers. Sometimes it’s best to stay in your lane instead of forcing the issue just to round out the album.

Possibly the most disappointing aspect of Trilla is that Rick Ross is actually an accomplished MC. His flows and rhyming ability are obviously intact but what separates him from the rest of the lyrical D-Boys is the elaborate detail that distinguishes man from myth. There’s a void in the depth department that can easily be filled, if he ever chooses to get the shovel. Flaws and all, Trilla is still well above average, as well as worth the price of admission. But it’ll take an extra dive in creativity if he wants to be known as the ‘Boss’ off the strength of his talent – instead of the fact it rhymes with his last name.

3.5 CIGARETTES