What do you do when you're LL Cool J and your career is flatlining? You get on the horn and call Timbaland, stat, and pay him lots of money to save your latest album with six of the deffest beats you've rapped on in over a decade. On Uncle L's 11th album, Timbaland submerges the veteran rapper's flows in space-age synth, bass and polished-up old-school designed completely for the club. This is LL at his most efficient. Yes, the mandatory I-wuv-u jam is on there, but his usual soggy odes to family and hardcore posturing posse cuts are gone. Vintage Uncle L bravado abounds, however, even reaching self-parody at points, as when he raps: "Close your legs, baby / Hide your desire / You think I'm hot? / You're preaching to the choir." LL, you're incorrigible.