What some call a sophomore slump could either make or break an artist.

Two years after the release of his monster 9-time platinum debut, 50 Cent's "The Massacre" is a major hit. Selling 1.1 million copies in its fourth day of release, it is far from the bane of his career.50's generally mild-mannered flow could be mistaken for a lack of effort but his wide range of delivery strives for hip-hop versatility. "Piggy Bank" is the quiet before the storm with a subtle warning fired at rival rappers such as Ja Rule and Nas, over a thumping bass. On the upbeat, head bob-inducing "Get In My Car" he delivers a catchy, sing-song chorus that could have believably been recorded within 30 minutes.

He seldom raises his voice and doesn't mask any lack of singing ability with over-exuberance by presenting great confidence and maintaining a constant interest in his next line. The chorus of "In My Hood" is an example of 50 recognizing the confines of his skills. 50 gradually desensitizes the listener. His cool demeanor almost creates a comfort in his paranoia of getting shot and being apprehended by federal authorities as he makes the illegal road to riches seem as smooth as a paved street.

His low-key intonation is best when balanced by an aggressive instrumental. Over the dramatic piano keys of "This Is 50," he asserts his independence and makes cynical references to selling cocaine and robbing homes late at night in a conversational tone. He is always quick to mockingly flaunt his wealth, showing how proud he is of getting rich on his own. Over the serene "Position Of Power," he raps, "I don't need n***as for support/I don't walk with a crutch." Over such tracks there is a constant suspense to hear him emit a yell or even a grunt, which is rare and treasured throughout the album.

50's scattered hints of emotion entice the listener, hanging onto his slight signs of grief and anger and in the pride he has of his devious past. But despite the mass critical acclaim and commercial success he has attained, a long way from Southside Jamaica, Queens, he has a hunger for more. On the eerie and low-tempo "I'm Supposed To Die Tonight," 50 raps "I'm a boss/ but n***z never show no respect." He is blunt, asserting his superiority only two albums in. And he doesn't care what anyone thinks of his arrogance, and shows no signs of slowing down or folding under pressure.

The bulk of The Massacre is drug-dealing bravado and gun-slinging menace, which also dominated his first album, but 50 ventures into concept rap on "A Baltimore Love Thing," a refreshing breath away from his infamous tough talk. There is a gradual interest to see if 50 is the heroin itself, which he is, that a woman is helplessly addicted to. He steps outside of boundaries, giving the listener a chance to hear 50 in a vulnerable relationship. He creatively captures the full extent of the addiction with flashes of passionate fury. He poignantly chastises, "We have a love thing, you treatin' this like it's just a fling/What we have is more sacred than a vow or a ring."

When he steps away from acting like being a multi-millionaire, gigantic rapper came easy, he is both honest and inspirational. Such moments come in small doses, as in the 3-minute "God Gave Me Style." The calm and mesmerizing track is contemplative and allows the listener to relate to 50. He raps, "I'm a trackstar, running through life, chasing my dreams/Best deal I made was trading that mic for that triple beam." While few took his particular path, many can relate to pursuing their passions.

But 50 also captivates ears when he sticks to his comfort zone: pop hits. His #1 single, Scott Storch-produced and Olivia-featured single "Candy Shop" comes the closest to "In Da Club." The infectious, hip-gyrating beat, filled with innocent-yet-explicit sexual references keeps his female fan base satisfied. The Dr. Dre-produced and Mobb Deep-featured "Outta Control Remix" is laden with Dre's signature piano keys and an engaging club screech. And "Disco Inferno" is momentous, though crude and unimaginative, with lame lines such as "burn a little greenery."

Surprisingly, Eminem's collaboration and production on "Gatman And Robbin" is one of the album's weakest tracks. The Batman and Robbin theme is boring, and the beat is redundant, falling far short of "Patiently Waiting." Jamie Foxx's chorus on "Build You Up" is generic and 50's unnecessary additional pandering to women is nauseating. "So Amazing," featuring Olivia, is another throw-away track, and on the Tony Yayo-featured "My Toy Soldier," 50 sounds sleepy and ready to rap up the 23-track album.

The album could have been trimmed down but overall, it's a balanced effort. It is filled with crack-dealing rhetoric, life experience, violence, and club music. The fame has turned him into an international celebrity, but he stays true to the street mentality that elevated him to where he is today. But at times he seems too effortless, and that coolness he tries to portray occasionally turns into a dud. He may be getting a little too comfortable at the top, because, whether fair or unfair, fans will always compare this album to his first, which some consider a hip-hop classic. While The Massacre cannot be considered a sophomore slump, it is short of the hype that his affiliation to Eminem and Dr. Dre, the G-Unit movement, and "Get Rich Or Die Tryin'" has generated.