Beer, blunts, bitches, and beatings – the subject matters that so many rappers get criticized for obsessing over. Yet, in the eleven year career of The Beatnuts, they have escaped those criticisms, and received nothing but love from backpackers to club-goers. That is likely because their music is just so much fun, from their incredible production to their over-the-top tales of ass grabbing and blunt passing. Much like Tha Liks out west, The Nuts are hip-hop’s favorite frat boys.
Psycho Les and Junkyard JuJu are always good for a few things with each album; a club anthem (“Off The Books,” “Watch Out Now,” “No Escapin’ This”), a street anthem (“Do You Believe” “Hammer Time”), a sex anthem (“Lick The Pussy,” “Rated R”), and production that is unmistakable. “Milk Me” is the seventh album from the Corona, Queens duo, and not a whole lot has changed. Greg Nice comes through as always to lend his trademark hook to their continued lineage of club bangers in “Hot.” It wouldn’t be a Nuts album without an ill flute loop, and “It’s Nothing” has got it (along with a nice guest spot from AG). “U Nomsayin” is pretty slick as well with Freeway stealing the show. While enough people will be quick to hate on “We Don’t Give A Funk” (it does sound a bit Neptune’ish), I think it is pretty dope stuff. The Milano-assisted “Down” is another standout with their nice manipulation of a vocal sample. “Confused Rappers” is bound to catch some attention for their attacks on Jenny not-from-the-block and her beat-jacking producers.
Unfortunately, some things have changed as “Milk Me” is littered with uninspired efforts and spotty, uncharacteristic production. “Buggin” sounds like it should be good, but there is just an emptiness about it. The hillbilly meets hip-hop “Find Us (In The Back Of the Club”) fails as well. Back to back snoozers like “All Night” and “Madness” are just not what we have come to expect. It isn’t that there are a lot of bad songs here, “We Getting Paper” isn’t bad, but it isn’t good either.
The real problem here isn’t the inconsistency, because both “Musical Massacre” and “Take It or Squeeze It” were both really uneven, it is that it just doesn’t feel like a Beatnuts album. Both the aforementioned albums were still lovable even where they failed, just because of how The Beatnuts approached their music. This album does not have that, nor does it have that handful of ridiculous bangers. The result is the worst album in their remarkable collection. Granted, their worst is still better than most other’s best, but we’ve come to expect more from The Beatnuts.