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's third LP reunites him with his and Death Row cronies,,, and, and even though only produces one cut, the album's sound, which is directed mostly by the D.O.C. Himself, is patterned after 's now-standard G-funk.

The songs are well-produced, well-performed standard gangsta cuts, with some occasional departures for variety. 'Soliloquy' is a thoughtful dedication to his deceased parents, backed with a lovely acoustic guitar riff, and 'DFW' contains some intricate wordplay. Unfortunately, while the D.O.C. Is still a talented MC, so much of this is lyrically trite, and even his flow and some occasional production scores (like the unusually fast-paced 'DFW' and '1-2-3') can't really make this stand out as anything other than a competent but not especially groundbreaking West Coast album. What's even more disappointing is that does not produce the cuts featuring ('Big Dick Shit') or,, and ('The Shit'), and the one he does produce ('Judgment Day') does not feature the D.O.C. At all, which is a major letdown, since their collaborations on the first album were spectacular.

Some fans might be put off by the D.O.C.' S raspy voice, but it's not as harsh or sluggish as it was on his last album,, and this is not nearly as disheartening as that release was, although it's tragically clear that the D.O.C. Will never be able to recapture the magic of his debut. Is an improvement over the D.O.C.' S previous album, but though it will please fans of West Coast rap, it's not as essential as.

With a sizable time jump, leaping us five years forward to 1977, David Simon's The Deuce returned with a playful, swinging slice of Times Square sleaze. Most of Season 2's premiere, 'Our Raison d'Etre,' was spent catching us up with everyone's life while we also witnessed which characters still loomed large on the scene many years later. Of course, as much as things changed, they also remained the same.

In the time away, Maggie Gyllenhaal's Candy has risen through the porn movie ranks to become both a director and performer while James Franco's Vincent runs a hit disco joint, Chris Coy's Paul operates a gay club, Margarita Levieva's Abby manages the old bar (while turning it into a CBGB's-type punk joint), Lawrence Gilliard Jr.' S Alston is now an esteemed homicide detective, David Krumholtz's Harvey has gained a wife and dropped about 80 lbs, Dominique Fishback's Darlene aspires to take night classes, and Emily Meade's Lori mildly struggles at being a sought-after skin flick actress while still having a domineering pimp (Gary Carr's C.C.).

Yes, everyone seems to be moving upwards, with still even more success in their sights. So who's losing out? Where's the pressure point? All boats may rise with the tide, especially when everything's being funded by the mob, but the pimps are being slowly shoved aside. The only true pushback story-wise, as business booms and everyone's finding their naughty niche, is C.C.

And his insistence that he's still somehow an integral part of the equation. Street hooking is still a major thing in '77, but the light's dimming and flickering. As movies, brothels, and peep shows take off, the pimp's days are numbered. In an exchange with a less ostentatious pimp, over a customary shoe shine, C.C. Rails against the idea of pimps dressing more subtly.