There aren’t many moments of reflection here. But “Wiggle” gives us some energetic oomph (and an impressive verse from the Bronx’s DreamDoll), even if it seems tame compared to, say, the colossal “BMF,” which dominated clubs-strip or otherwise-on its hypermasculine terms. If anything, he’s a throwback to the mostly East Coast-centric salad days of the late 1990s: his hits feel like classic paeans to flossing rather than ratchet anthems for the turn-up. “Wiggle” is a would-be strip-club psalm, which, because it doesn’t convince, begs the question: what is Rick Ross’s legit place in Miami rap? Unlike Luke, Trick Daddy, or his mentor Trina, Rozay doesn’t do unabashed raunch. This is megachurch gospel if the pastor genuinely wanted his congregation to view every day as another opportunity to touch some paper. “Do it out of opulence/Really it’s just common sense,” he spits, sounding like he’s also encouraging us to secure a bag.

The cinematic “Marathon,” on which eerie orchestration and haunting pianos evoke the soundtrack to a letterbox version of a lost 1970s Roman Polanski classic, is a goosebumps-rendering catechism for Ross’s insistence on the lavish life. Ross gets an official co-sign from the retired Cocaine Cowboy before laying out a bio that boasts both his alleged underworld bona fides (with Black Mafia Family co-founder Demetrius “Big Meech” Flenory) and boardroom power moves: “I was really throwin’ money, I really saw Meech/And I let them rappin’ niggas get closer to Meek.” Opener “Little Havana” sets a credible tone with testimony (”I was the undisputed king in the cocaine industry from the mid-Seventies through the Eighties and into the Nineties”) from former drug czar Willy Falcon.

Rick ross albums torrent