Curren$y is such a niche artist that he can seemingly vanish into the air like the weed smoke he so lovingly describes even when he's still active. The New Orleans native tours regularly and continues to release quality projects like last year’s The Drive In Theater, 2013’s New Jet City, and 2011’s Alchemist joint-effort, Covert Coup, but hasn’t been able to duplicate the bite of his 2010 breakthroughs, Pilot Talk and Pilot Talk II. News of the third installation’s arrival sparked more interest than he'd enjoyed in awhile, as those outside of his core fanbase were curious to see if the next volume would do the series justice.

Curren$y is a bit of a cinephile, and treats each individual work like a grand production; it’s evident in the titles of his projects (see his 2012 tribute, Priest Andretti), and Pilot Talk III begins with "Opening Credits", where he strolls over an authoritative soul sample like Max Julien in The Mack. For just over two minutes, he reflects on his career’s trajectory: "It was right around the time/ I thought I’d have to move back with my mom/ I had to sell my first low-rider/ Halfway to the top went to sleep, woke up at the bottom." The hopscotch path Curren$y has taken to success (from No Limit, to Cash Money, to independent juggernaut) is well-documented, but he rarely deviates from his cool-guy persona to reflect on his struggles.

Curren$y remains as irreverent as always, but he sounds more focused on Pilot Talk III than he has in awhile. The ominous "Cargo Planes", produced by Joey Fatts, sounds like the opening of a cinematic crime saga, but in this case it's a typical Spitta infraction: the theft of someone else’s girlfriend. "Never displaying affection when we out in public/ 'Cause mufuckas lookin', and shit could get ugly/ So walk right past me homegirl, and don’t say nothin'" he advises a female acquaintance. On "Froze", eccentric jester RiFF RAFF appears like the ghastly clown from Spawn to exchange swank over Harry Fraud’s slow-burn production, and Curren$y keeps his cool.

Although Spitta's range is limited, it’s never been a disadvantage; he’s a purveyor of lifestyle rap. His song titles, often named after random, inanimate objects or people (in the past we've gotten "Chandelier", "Breakfast", and "Scottie Pippen", and here we have "Pot Jar," "Briefcase", "Lemonade Mimosas") testify his ability to find something worthy of appreciation in the seemingly ordinary. On "Long as the Lord Say", he sketches familiar imagery: "Plottin’ like always/ Marble floor hallways/ Smoked out all day/ Tryin’ to get more paid." His lyrics are like an ad from a men’s magazine targeting the 18 to 25 age demographic in real time.

Because Curren$y himself is a control variable, production typically influences the quality of his output. Ski Beatz, who produced the bulk of the original Pilot Talk and its sequel, has left his imprint on everything from Jay Z’s Reasonable Doubt to Camp Lo’s Uptown Saturday Night. Noticeably absent from Curren$y’s discography following Pilot Talk II, it’s Ski's presence that makes Pilot Talk III so strong. The shimmering crash of the cymbals and pop of the drums on "Alert" are vintage Ski and very welcome.

Curren$y may not do "new," but he is very good at what he does: riffing on cars, money, women, weed, and obscure moments from television shows. It’s difficult for the third version of something to truly reign supreme, especially when there’s little variation differentiating them. "Audio Dope 5" is solid, but nowhere near as experimental as the intoxicated stumble of "Audio Dope II". Regardless, Curren$y’s sharp wit, the smooth chop of the Sylvers’ "How Love Hurts" heard on "All I Know", and the return of Ski make Pilot Talk III more than worth it. He's never bad company, even if you forget he's there from time to time.