Unlike the sex-charged Usher and Ciara singles, crunk, as reaffirmed here by the genre's foremost technician, is more about rage than anything else. The songs are practically all hook two to four refrains per track with sentiments like ''I don't give a f---, nigga, I don't give a f---, ho,'' and ''motherf--- that nigga, motherf--- that b ----'' recited ad nauseam in Jon's throaty growl. Most of the album's musical triumphs the creepy-cool movie soundtrack that is ''Da Blow,'' the Chocolate City go-go anthem ''Aww Skeet Skeet'' are multilayered with over-the-top vitriolic rants and nausea-inducing misogyny. Come on, sing along: ''No more d--- to your p---- , just d--- to your throat/You ain't gonna get no child support.'' Catchy? Yep, like warts.