The Madd Rapper, for those who don't know, began as a character in Bad Boy skits. The stereotypical blunt smokin roughneck rapper was the alter ego of Deric "D-Dot" Angeletti, one of the Bad Boy producers who helped out on "Benjamins" and so on.

The Madd Rapper was the "upset, unappreciated" rapper who couldn't be happy for the financial success of Bad Boy and thought he deserved a shot. Now he's signed, he's still mad, because he only has a "$20,000 video, no car service," limited catering and all that.

This, in some enigmatic way, is supposed to be funny.

Somebody must have thought it was a good idea to give him an album deal under the pseudonym that had been such a secret for so long (rumor has it he was ready to bust up some Vibe "journalists" for outing his identity like Ellen). As happy as he is to have a record deal (he comments numerous times about "I got a deal now" and how cool that is, like some happy footman pleased with a pat on the head from massa before dinner), D-Dot could have come up with catchy, moving tracks all day long to make an instrumental album, save the requirement of some vocalism. Even he must have realized he's a one trick pony -- only one full song on this 22 cut album has no guest star to distract you from the fact that there's a wack man rapping, and that bout of schizophrenia ("Dot Vs. TMR") features bites of Jay-Z, Juvenile, and others in what perhaps is intended as satire.

Like Paul McCartney's cracker ass shoutin' out "Laurence Hill," isht ain't funny.

If you don't pay attention and just let the music play, the beats are actually interesting in points, and worth bumping, but the irritating voice of the Rappin' Fetchit-esque caricature quickly slaps the sense into you and reminds you, oh yeah, there's a wack man rapping.

Attempts at Mobb Deepism on "You're All Alone" (with Picasso Black) or "Ghetto" (with Raekwon and Carl Thomas) are insults to the real grimies in the world, especially followed by the dance floor and radio minded jiggle track "That's What's Happenin" with the king of pointless music, Ma$e.

The saddest thing is that most of what's here, in a vain attempt at humor, is too pathetically subpar and mediocre to be seriously mad at. "Stir Crazy" with Eminem (possibly the best cut on the album for similar silliness) may keep your attention, but otherwise this is a saccharine attempt at being Tragedy, and everybody knows ghetto fools like sugar in their Kool-Aid.

Perhaps predicting this kind of criticism, on "D-Dot Interview," he states "Niggas don't know what the ghetto is. We live the ghetto every day. Stay with my people, make money with my people. Why y'all fightin' me? Fight them. Be on my side, us together against them, we'll slay ‘em. That's ghetto, stay ghetto, be ghetto."

In a Pan-African sense, the sentiment is admirable. However, it must be considered suspect from a Moet swillin, alleged-pistol-packin, ne'er-do-well with no social conscience beyond his own intoxication. Talkin revolution and singing hymns of mental enslavement.

It would be counterproductive to hate the Madd Rapper and the deluded producer who gave him life. What the Madd Rapper deserves if your pity, because at the end of the day, he's still a wack man rapping.