"What once seemed a crafty producer's gimmick now sounds more like the imaginary friend of a shy dude who needed someone to talk to in the studio while he chain-smoked blunts. Reefer Madness? Probably, but wildly entertaining, as well, imagining Madlib sitting in a basement making songs all day everyday and getting so bored with himself that he finds a way to put a pig-nosed yellow hippo on record. And most of what he says under that persona is crazy shit, outlandish, hilarious fiction. Exactly what everyone stands around thinking about when he's got a helium balloon pinched in his fingers is what comes out of Lord Quas' mouth. We all know profanity is crass, violence a nuisance, and misogyny quite boring, but dude, his voice sounds funny when he says it. Whether it's the grandiose self-shout-outs, ludicrous threats, or adolescent come-ons, Quas is Webster with pimp juice while Madlib leans on the wall, mumbling affirmations and encouragement, and if you want to justify the content to your stuffy friends just tell them the pitch-shifted vocals are Madlib's commentary on the mental immaturity and irresponsibility of typical hip-hop subject matter."