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50 Cent may have survived gunfire and gang fights but Will Smith remains the ultimate Teflon rapper. Nothing gets to him - not shifts in popular culture and taste. Not dipping record sales. Not even looming middle age. He's still happy playing the dopey, clean-cut "Fresh Prince of Bel Air," turning out Sesame StreW
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50 Cent may have survived gunfire and gang fights but Will Smith remains the ultimate Teflon rapper. Nothing gets to him - not shifts in popular culture and taste. Not dipping record sales. Not even looming middle age. He's still happy playing the dopey, clean-cut "Fresh Prince of Bel Air," turning out Sesame Street rhymes over Playskool beats while remaining unaffected by the world outside. He deserves credit for standing his ground ("I never write verses with curses," he declares at one point), but not for making an album that is, by turns, bitter ("Mr. Niceguy"), self-righteous ("Could You Love Me") and downright egomaniacal ("Here He Comes"). Guests like Timbaland, Snoop Dogg and DJ Jazzy Jeff offer little direction. --Aidin Vaziri
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