You already know what it is. Rapper “x” enters game and earns “y” amount of dollars allowing him to start his own label. Thus enabling him to put his closest kin and childhood buddies on, subsequently releasing “1″ album. With the tried and true equation essentially the blueprint for a rap star’s career, who is Jim Jones to switch tradition up? Still flying high off the success of his breakthrough effort Hustler’s P.O.M.E., the Capo distances himself from Dipset long enough to assemble a group of second caliber rhyme spitters ready to launch his Byrd Gang movement to the next millennium. Boasting over an hour of uneven production with unproven artists, the Men of Byrd Gang deliver an uneventful LP on their first full-length project M.O.B: The Album.

Consisting of Mel Matrix, NOE, Sandman, and former Murder Inc. beat captain Chink Santana, Byrd Gang doesn’t differ much from your typical rap crew. Problem is, they don’t differ much from your typical rap crew. With the except of NOE, who spearheads the undeniably catchy “Byrdgang Money” and details his life experiences on “Hustle” with a Jigga-esque vocal delivery, the Byrd Gang attempt to soar with clipped wings. The M.O.B. spend 4 minutes of tranquilizing listeners on “Mobbin” with bland rhetoric as they get lost in a basic melody of dark piano strokes and put on a front like they can handle the electronic kicker gone haywire on the disgraceful “Throwin’ Bg’s.” And while they try to cover the requisite areas such as braggadocio (“Splash”) and street life (“Oopsy Daisy”), the end results are so forgettable, every effort feels like an attempt to pad around the more desirable “Byrdgang Money.”

As for One Eyed Willy, he exhibits why he’s indeed the reigning king of ad-libs on joints like his solo dissertation “Gizzang,” but his leadership (read: executive producing) is the main cause for concern. With production too similar to one his own projects and the inclusion of Sen, a poor man’s Max B, the Byrd Gang are thrown another obstacle in their struggle to shine combined with their limited talent. The lack of direction on M.O.B. is highlighted when the Byrd Gang pay homage to “ryder mami’s” on the corny “She’s So Gangsta” which inexplicably flips to a 90′s knockoff R&B slow jam that’s completely out of place. And contradiction strikes once again as the album ends with the ode to a female’s fellatio game, “So Cold.”

Not expected to match the success of Dipset, the Byrd Gang fail to meet even modest objectives with tired gangsterisms and a leader greenlighting songs smothered in red flags. It’s back to the drawing board for Jimmy after this one, because like the album’s execution, his calculations for picking a dream team are severely off.

2 CIGARETTES