Young Joc - New Joc City    
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written by Christopher Watkins    
One thing can be said for upcoming Atlanta rapper Yung Joc. Nobody saw Brad Pitt doing the Snap dance, or George Clooney A-town stomping. When increasingly frightening mega star Tom Cruise shocked national television audiences by doing Yung Joc's dance, "The Motorcycle", it introduced the twenty-three year old to a national audience.

The dance, featured prominently in Joc's club-banging first single "It's Going Down", is a simple as can be, as not to exclude anyone, especially those sometimes rhythmless fair-skinned folks, from the fun. Unfortunately, the same can be said for the rest of Joc's debut album "Yung Joc City".

Although signed to P. Diddy's burgeoning Bad-Boy South label, for better or worse, the mogul's presence is non-existent. Instead, we are left with the rather standard A-town fare. The album starts off promising enough, in the introduction "New Joc City," "Man, I gotta switch up cuz my trap on fire / It's hot like the thermostat on high." Joc has a has an almost effortless delivery (read: Mase with a country twang), and his production does not try to take him far out his comfort zone. However, compared to the everything else out right now, he falls far short in his goals. If he has any.

In some songs, such as "Do Yo Bad" and "Don't Play Wit It", he attempts to show his prowess in the trap, but without the same credibilty and wit as fellow Atlanta native Young Jeezy. "Dope Magic" is rather decent, yet unremarkable fare, while "Patron" advertises everyone rapper's favorite tequila brand with one of the lines from "Going Down" to masquerade as the hook. Once again, Jeezy comes to mind all throughout the song, "Kush by the seven, I call it Michael Vick."

The album reaches its zenith with "I'm Him", where Joc's brogadaccio and clever lines allow him to overcome another rather static beat. "Hear Me Coming" features Joc giving more shout-outs than good lines, and the rest of the album is mindless appeasement to the ladies and the trappers.

Probably the most disappointing part of the album is that it fails to be anything really. It is no where near the tight production and clever lyricism of T.I.'s "King" or the finger-popping simplicity of Dem Franchise Boyz' "At the Top of Our Game,". Instead, does not try to hard to focus on one style and subsequently fails to suceed at any.

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