In 1996, at the height of the media-inflated "beef" between the east coast & west coast rap scenes (really between Bad Boy & Death Row), Ice Cube must have been motivated by some of the insults he heard coming from the right side of the map. Either that, or he saw a marketable opportunity--after all, why should his rival Suge Knight be the one making all the money off the trumped-up feud? So he brought his longtime friend & collaborator WC together with recent protege Mack 10 to create a west coast gangsta supergroup (much as he did a few decades later with Mount Westmore). This album was a labor of love for Cube: independently produced & recorded at his home studio. Cube has engineering credits on the album & even production credits on 3 tracks. The liner notes make the objective clear: "It's GANGSTA RAP in it's [sic] highest form." Ice Cube, who has as much right as anybody to declare himself father of the art form, was staking his claim.
The album's sound is certainly classic LA gangsta, with repetitive, throbbing synth basslines, sinister keys, & occasional funky string samples. As I've observed about other albums, this is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it makes for a smooth, enjoyable listen. On the other hand, the beats (mostly by Bud'da, though Binky & Quincy Jones III make appearances) are so similar in tempo, mood & timbre that they risk blending together. When a standout pops up--like the atmospheric Nine Inch Nails-sampling "The Gangsta, The Killa and the Dope Dealer" with its gritty guitar & staticky white noise drone--it makes you sit up, take notice, & wish there was more where that came from.
I've always thought WC was an underrated emcee--though his subject matter is limited, he is an inventive lyricist who always manages to find an off-kilter, interesting way to make his point. His booming confidence on the mic, nimble flows & allusion-filled style make him engaging to listen to. I have to admit I've never enjoyed Mack 10 as much more than a poor man's Ice Cube, but he gives nothing less than his best on this album. Cube himself is reliably solid, but he really shines on the diss tracks, of which we get 3: 2 are directed at Cypress Hill, & 1 at Common. The best is "King of the Hill," where Cube's 2nd verse in particular is the most savage takedown he'd mounted since "No Vaseline" ("You say that I took your hook/It must be the white boy thinking all n****s crooks"). I'm also partial to Mack's Jigga-style dismissal of Sen: "Sen Dog is so wack he ain't worth dissing." Cube's shots at Muggs are particularly potent since the 2 artists were working together not very long ago. (It's interesting to note that WC did not participate in that song because he was good friends with Cypress Hill & didn't want to get involved.) The whole Cypress affair feels very personal, which is more than can be said for the Common beef, which is half-heartedly furthered in the album closer "Hoo-Bangin' (WSCG Style)," & which we all knew would never really amount to anything.
Most of the disses, by the way, whether directed at Common, B-Real, Q-Tip, NYC rap critics, moral watchdogs or rival gangs, have 1 thing in common: a tendency toward homophobia. It's nothing new, but it's still a little cringey in 2022 to hear so many f-slurs & d-slurs thrown around. One of them happens in "Westward Ho," one of the 2 songs on the album dedicated to objectifying women. Like many songs of this type, it achieves an accidental level of gayness by being 3 guys bragging to each other about their sexual prowess. Cube asks a hypothetical woman "What you think about dick & pussy collisions?" which is a great example of a pickup line calculated to impress another man that would never, ever work on a woman. WC does the best work on this song, subverting the usual fixation on model-type conventionally attractive female features by offering us a description of his ideal woman: "5'10, 220 with scars on her thighs" & "C-sections, tattoos, stretch marks & bullet wounds."
With no big-name producers, no rap features until the last track, no R&B hooks, no obvious radio or dancefloor fodder, this is an album that's admirable in its focus. A lot of it just sounds like 3 friends having fun, but it also achieves what it promises in the liner notes: a snapshot of the state of the traditional LA gangsta rap art in 1996. It's like Cube, Dub & Mack inviting you to spend 49 minutes in a solidly-constructed, vividly-decorated bomb shelter. There are no windows, but that's fine, because you won't feel like looking outside anyway.
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