So, amid having a midterm on Monday, another midterm essay due on Tuesday, and then another midterm on Thursday, I'm wasting time online. I rule. Anyway, I just read the Billboard Magazine review of Kevin Federline's (K-Fed, if you will) album Playing With Fire, and well, you can read it yourself...
"K-Fed spends the first half of his debut album defending himself, claiming he's "America's Most Hated," which rhymes with "you're mad that I made it." Playing the victim allows him a tried-and-true hip-hop window to "keep it real," as he says, and to shout out (twice) to Benjamin Franklin. Amid hints of rock guitar on "Lose Control," he brags about his tax bracket and wedding Britney Spears (who "calls me daddy, but she's not my daughter." Eww). Spears then takes a robotic guest turn on "Crazy." In general, Federline enunciates well (even big words like "paparazzi" and "telekinesis"). But the album doesn't peak until the bhangra-sampling "Caught Up" and the finale "Keep On Talkin'," which prescribes marijuana for cataract relief over a woozily patty-caking hook. Major misstep: An inexplicable lack of Brazilian favela funk tracks about butts. —Chuck Eddy"
