The rappers tell young fans not to follow their example on “If I Could Teach the World.” “Mo’ Thug-Family Tree” says “Thank you, Jesus Christ, for giving up your life,” however . . .
. . . The track goes on to boast, “Weed and party all the time . . . keep on thuggin’; that’s how we make our livin’.” Amid a shower of f-words and other obscenities, the artist makes violent threats (“put him in a coffin . . . left his guts in my truck,” “you gonna be bloody red,” “it’s time for warfare,” “flippin’ off police,” “we sendin’ ’em home in a body bag,” etc.) and associates drugs and alcohol with urban machismo (“We buck with justice, smoke blunts,” “So get high and analyze your crime”). “Body Rott” talks of communicating with the dead and cursing the living via a Ouija board.
Two positives on a 28-track collection is a pitiful ratio. And in context, even those sentiments ring hollow, as do the guys’ claims of “Doin’ our best to serve God.” The Art of War is nothing more than two hours of vicious, confused ramblings.
