The Streets - The Hardest Way to Make an Easy Living

Can't see the trees for the glare coming off the Reebok Classics, Mike. Testing the Mike, one two. Is it me or, with each subsequent release, does Mr Skinner try and squeeze more and more of his council flat lyrical gangsterism into less and less space? Of course, this time around he's a huge success, so it's all self-reflexive pondering and whittering and whining about a fancy life in Reebok Classics, limos and green rooms. And clumsy rhymes. Without the through-line narrative of A Grand Don't Come For Free, Skinner and Co's juvenile delinquency shows through. It's a war of the sexes? Indeed it is. You never went to church and you lost your dad's book of dreams? Aww. It's easier to get girls when you're famous? So what. I know it's all ironic. But it's also, well, a bit dull. You know the score - that dude joins him on the slow gospel-tinged numbers, the drum machine has trouble keeping up with Mike on the faster tunes. Oh, we're so over that Brit/Cockerney rappery, aren't we?
But, in answer to your question The Streets, no, I never knew that cigarette lighters were invented before matches. So thanks for that, Mikey boy. Please try harder next time.