Capsule Review: Flo Rida

Another Sunshine State native is new to the music scene, sporting beefy, tatted arms, a massive hit single and a pun of a U.S. state for a name. Flo Rida’s debut album, “Mail on Sunday,” may deliver club bangers and catchy party tracks, but topping a number-one spot on the billboard charts for 10 weeks (his first released song, “Low,” featuring hook-maestro T-Pain) is by no means an easy task. The album just doesn’t sound convincing, nor do his tasteless, terrible hooks and what-the-fuck lyrics about voluptuous booties and sexual escapades involving rows of alcohol.

p. He blunders on the sappy track, “Still Missin’,” resorting to garden tools as metaphors for relationship failures. The whiney, emasculating song is painful to the ears as he sings “My lawnmower home, but my ho still missin’.” Tear.

p. You can’t forget the freak-nasty track, featuring sex-fiend Trey Songz, “Freaky-Deaky.” It’s pretty self-explanatory and graphic, with repetitive X-rated commands like “ride me” and “don’t fight back.”
All that’s really worth hearing are the big-name producers (Timbaland, J.R. Totem, Will. I. Am.) and musical guests. Cameos from Lil’ Wayne (what would an album be nowadays without him?) and Sean Kingston add some Caribbean flair, but the intoxicating, creative beats just aren’t enough to save the album from Flo Rida’s generic rhymes and thick vocals. “Mail on Sunday” should be resealed and returned to sender. Immediately.


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