The Documentary is good. You can dance to it, bop to it, whatever.

The beats are wonderfully produced, awesomely catchy and definitely a few new sounds; this is, of course, much in part thanks to producers Dr. Dre, Timbaland, Kanye West and Eminem, among others. But what keeps this album from being great is that it leaves much to be desired about, well, The Game. It's supposed to be a documentary, but for much of the album he seems so concerned with shout-outs and insults to fellow musicians and celebs that he loses realness.

Basically his story is that he grew up in the slums, sold marijuana, got shot, lived through it and started rapping. And he tells this story, in not much more detail, on just about every song.

Even when he rhymes about his experiences in life and his childhood he has to follow it up with a perverted verse about how now he can get whatever woman in bed.

Unlike Jay-Z or Nas' early works, the social commentary is totally lost beneath his self-appraisals and insipid partying now-I'm-living-the-high-life tales. There are exceptions sprinkled throughout verses on different tracks, here and there we get some sort of an idea about his intentions, fears and hopes, but the most touching and vivid song is the beautiful "Like Father, Like Son" about the birth of his son.

No doubt he's a skilled MC, and his producers even more so, but if he really wants to become that rap legend he talks about becoming, well, The Game has some work to do.

-- Reviewed by Eszter Gordon