While it's kind of insufferable when people younger than 35 do this (Troy, Joey, looking at you two), Kiss would seem disingenuous if he wasn't doing it. The man has a voice that sounds like ashtray filled with broken glass and Newport butts- thank god he isn't trying out autotune or the Migos flow. His crotchety steez is endearing, if not impressive, over the course of T5DOA, still shining through even when he does collaborate with the blouse-wearing it-rapper of the moment and one who's basically the physical manifestation of skinny jeans. The message is clear: it's not about hate, it's about keeping himself honest, and not ending up looking like someone's washed uncle who's still trying to be hip. This results in as many collabs with relics of the past as ones with young bucks (although the actual Young Buck who shows up on "Realest In The Game" is probably a member of the former category at this point), so at many points throughout the album we're partying like it's 2005 with Akon, Swizz Beatz, Just Blaze, Bangladesh and Ne-Yo. The ensuing vibe usually hews closer to 25 year high school reunion than "back in my day." deli convos, which is a relief, especially when it produces moments as exuberant and pulse-quickening as "Kill." Reuniting the "A Milli" team, Jada swaggers over the finest beat of the album, and it's shockingly the only time any guest comes close to dethroning him, with Lil Wayne reminding us why no one batted an eyelid when Bilboard put him on their list. Moments this turnt are a rarity to begin with, but become even scarcer in the album's back half, where the all-too-brief "Confetti" is the only respite from increasingly overwrought subject matter. Perhaps to convince us (and the other old heads in the barber shop on "Shop Talk") that song concepts have taken a backseat to dances and fashion, Kiss spends two entire tracks fixated on metaphors that should have sputtered out after a bar or two.