Since emerging from prison fit, sober, and self-actualized, Gucci Mane has savored every moment of his endless goodwill tour, happily fielding collaboration offers, penning a New York Times best seller, and generally charming the hell out of the media. Even a year and a half after his release, his transformation doesn’t seem any less remarkable. Between his megawatt smile, improbable six-pack, and impeccably tailored new wardrobe, he now looks like the conventional star he never was even during his commercial window in the late 2000s, that confused era when labels were slotting him into Mariah Carey and Black Eyed Peas remixes.

For the most part, Gucci’s “young, active and attractive” makeover hasn’t impacted his music much. He’s less bitter now, he’s landing more jokes, and he no longer raps like a “before” example in a Mucinex commercial, but he’s continued releasing the same steady stream of low-stakes albums and mixtapes as before (and even during) his prison sentence. He’s done his big comeback event album, a couple return-to-the-streets albums, and a few of his usual collaboration albums. All of those were more or less expected. Released on the heels of his highest-charting single ever, the sticky Migos collaboration “I Get the Bag,” Mr. Davis is something that few would have predicted just two years ago, however: a Gucci Mane album with actual commercial expectations.

The industry’s fingerprints are all over the record, from its guest roster of A-listers like Nicki Minaj and A$AP Rocky to its perfectionist mastering job and that telltale sign of label interference, a delayed release date. Atlantic’s sudden interest in the veteran rapper is bittersweet, since Gucci’s usually at his best when he’s left to his own devices, and the album inevitably succumbs to a few test-marketed misfires—particularly “Curve,” a miserabilist Weeknd feature, and “We Ride,” a hollow victory anthem built entirely from circa-2011 radio tropes. The considerable upshot, though, is that there’s a level of quality control here that’s rare for any Gucci Mane project. Mr. Davis is his most consistent and accessible release in years, and a prime showcase for his renewed charisma.

What a blast it is to hear this guy when he’s locked in. Opposite Chris Brown on “Tone It Down,” Gucci barely disguises his smirk while riffing on his greatest and most ridiculous muse, his jewelry: “Big gold boulders in my Rollie/Look like Fred Flintstone when he pick a stone up.” On one of the album’s least chart-minded tracks, “Stunting Ain’t Nuthin,” Gucci revels in the chance to roll around in the gutter with Slim Jxmmi (the half of Rae Sremmurd who isn’t a clear lock for solo stardom) and perennial collaborator Young Dolph, both of whom have rarely sounded hungrier. And even on “Changed,” a leisurely Big Sean number that pretty much pilots itself, Gucci channels his old dazzle, stringing together zinger after zinger into one of those surrealist soliloquies that he used to do better than anybody: “I know my Granny probably looking down at me now/They used to look down at me but now look around/My house so big, my pool so motherfucking deep/So plushed out I don’t really like to leave.”

Gucci Mane issues music at such an unrelenting clip that it can be difficult to make the case for any given project, especially when the two or three before it were more or less as good. Even diehards could be excused for occasionally taking a pass on some of them. But for casual listeners who understandably tuned out after Gucci’s first couple good-not-great comeback albums, now’s as good a time as any to check back in. Between this spring’s cold, uncompromising Droptopwop and the personable crossover stab of Mr. Davis, Gucci Mane is making his most engaging music since his Trap Back/Trap God resurgence. Most artists are lucky to have one legacy-defining hot streak. Gucci Mane is now well into his third.