People like to complain about this album: it's stupid, it's immature, it's sexist, blah, blah, blah. Well of course it is. It's supposed to be. And it succeeds spectacularly! Have a sense of humor people. Okay, on to the album itself: a fantastic blend of rock and rap (Thank you Rick Rubin, for such a concept!), with the perfect trio of smart ass punks, ya know the ones who came close to getting beat up everday at school but managed to smooth talk themselves out of harm's way? These are the guys. The rhymes are silly, but for the love of all that is good and holy, who can stand another thug reppin' his hood (when you know he grew up in the 'burbs of Jersey), talkin' 'bout his ho's and his ice without the slightest trace of irony? Rap is not known for its sense of humor. Licensed to Ill rescues it from drowning in it's own sense of self-importance and then manages to sneak a few sucker punches in on it's own. Great album, great rhymes, great beats. Long live Paul Revere!