If you turned money into music, it would sound something like this

"Before I Self Destruct" is an apt name for 50 Cent's fifth album. The damn thing's been delayed for so long - nigh on two years by this point - that it might as well have been called "Before I Lose My Patience."

I mean, how often do a record's first two singles not even make the final track-list? Yet that's exactly what's happened here: The ferocious machismo of "Get Up" was released more than a year ago, the flaccid misogyny of "I Get It In" hit the charts before Barack even hit the White House, and neither song made the final cut.

Usually long delays mean low quality. In this case, though, it sounds like the extra time paid off. "Before I Self Destruct" is the slickest rap record I've heard in quite a while; it's pump-up, macho-man fantasy music taken to the next level. Roping in production like this must have cost 50 Cent a pretty penny, but my Lord it was worth it. You can almost hear the money seeping through your speakers - and for one of the world's richest pop stars, I guess that's only appropriate.

Of course, Fiddy himself is still an epically clumsy rapper, and no amount of money in the world can change that. The bullet to the jaw might have made for a good story, but it also makes for one hell of an awkward emcee. Seriously, the guy has a lisp! It's ridiculous! In a genre wholly dependent on enunciation, the idea of a rapper with a speech impediment sounds like a bad joke, but in Fiddy's case, it's all too painfully true.

I've often wondered why Eminem, a rapper renowned for his flawless flow, signed someone as clumsy as 50 Cent to be his protege. Wouldn't a motor-mouth like Lupe Fiasco have been more appropriate? The only plausible explanation is that it was to make himself sound better - and that's exactly what happens on "Psycho," in which Eminem seemingly does all he can to humiliate his host. It's a hilarious paradox: "Psycho" would be the best song on the album, if only 50 Cent weren't in it.

Luckily, Eminem is the only emcee to make a guest appearance on the record, leaving the other 15 tracks to the main attraction. With almost anyone else, I would say it's to let them "shine," but in Fiddy's case, it's more like an ingenious ploy to make listeners forget how crap he is.

The funny thing? It kinda, sorta works. Left alone with 50 Cent, you start to see why this guy might be the century's most successful rapper: He knows exactly why people buy his music. It's not for the lyrics. It's not for the technique. It's for the entertainment value. Listening to 50 Cent is like watching the latest brain-dead blockbuster, and it's no coincidence that the cover references one of the most successful Hollywood franchises of all time.

But with production this shiny, it's hard to complain. The pounding, cinematic "Death to My Enemies" is easily Dr. Dre's best work in years, a perfect foil to the rapper's arrogant bluster. Diss track "So Disrespectful" is a delicious neo-G Funk concoction that almost makes you forget that everyone Fiddy's insulting is more talented than he is (Jay-Z? Seriously?). "Crime Wave," meanwhile, sounds like gangsta superhero music, a furious assault of keyboard riffs built around a sample of a man screaming, "No, no, no!" It's utterly ridiculous and utterly irresistible.

Unfortunately, some of the album steers a bit too cynically into Top 40 territory (hello, Ne-Yo and R. Kelly!), and the rapper's attempts at love songs are alternately hilarious ("Girl I'll perform for you, like a porn star") and downright scary ("It's like Paul McCartney's stuck in my head / he fell in love with a bitch who walked away with one leg"). And the less said about the God-awful synth mess "Get It Hot," the better. But when the rapper sticks to the gun-toting put-downs, the album is strikingly consistent, even if it's all just hot air.

Then again, it's not like he tries to hide the artifice of it all. By this point, 50 Cent basically sells Vitamin Water for a living, and his patronizing, singsong flow - not to mention the billion-dollar backing tracks - never let you forget that. Mainstream rap is escapist popcorn fodder: I've been listening to "Before I Self Destruct" for four days straight, I've lost a few brain cells, and I'm sure that's exactly the point.

3 PAWS

Pros: If you were able to magically transform stacks of cash into musical form, it would probably sound something like this.