Time was when producer, record executive, and socialite Sean "Puffy" Combs was a one-man sure-shot. But the game of hip-hop is a fickle one and Puffy's brand of pop-rap, heavy on recognizable party-hearty samples and Italian designer name-dropping lyrics, is falling from favor. These days the market demands a tougher, leaner (if no less status-conscious) breed. So it's no surprise from a commercial standpoint that many of the 19 tracks on Combs's second solo CD reflect this au courant street sound. Of course, the notion of Combs adapting a thuggish posture is laughable. He is about as threatening as the Tasmanian Devil, which is probably why he leaves the truly down and dirty rhymes to guest rappers such as Busta Rhymes and Redman. It's hard to argue with Puffy's talent as a producer; even with his love for the blatant he can still cook up a sizzling cut. But as a rapper he's a would-be at best, and what he has to say is even more pointless. The constant references to himself as a Christlike figure, the nonstop paranoia, his insistence that he's a wanted, dangerous public enemy are self-indulgent nonsense. In the end, Forever is a star-studded ego trip from an artist who should stick to making dope hits for other people.

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