If Bully weren't on his high horse every song, maybe this album would be a bit more enjoyable. Nobody wants to hear someone talk himself or herself up, especially as much as Bully talks himself up. The rap grooves and beats he lays down, though generic, are powerful and mildly entertaining. Heck, there are times regardless you'll find yourself bouncing to this album. But, Bully doesn't seem to want you to dance. He'd rather have you stunned at how fucking great he thinks he is. And, well, that just doesn't fly.

Bully proves that he doesn't need money or fame to inflate his ego. He does that just fine without any praise from the masses. Give him a pen, some paper, and studio time, as well as a few devotees, and the man can beat down any other ego. I'll give this a D-.

Judge Roughneck: Rude One's Money Making Scheme

Julia Brown: Jubilant Newborn Alien Haze

[Issue Twenty-Seven // January 2000]