Torrence "Boosie Badazz" Hatch is a Southern rap legend. Everyone seeking to understand the current rap landscape should know this. After his cousin Young Bleed (yup, the "How Ya Do Dat" Young Bleed of No Limit Records fame) helped him sign with the late Pimp C's Trill Entertainment in 2001, Boosie released a series of mixtapes and albums that set his career on fire. Through the combination of his unique voice (imagine a frog on helium getting bear-hugged by a bodybuilder), his gargantuan output, his so-raw-it's-kinda-uncomfortable level of honesty, and his never-ending traditional chitlin' circuit tour of small town clubs and hood spots, he amassed the (some would say blasphemous) moniker of the "Tupac of the South." His legacy is heard in everyone from Meek Mill to Starlito to fellow Baton Rouge resident Kevin Gates, despite being only 32 years of age. This is the man who helped popularize the term "ratchet", for God's sake. (Seahawks fans, take note: He's also responsible for making "Beast Mode" a thing, a fact that Marshawn Lynch readily admits.)

Boosie went to jail in 2010 facing first-degree murder and conspiracy charges, and after a brief fear that he might be sentenced to death, he finished up his sentence early last year. He returned to a new world, where mundane things like iPhone tech seemed foreign and new. After his Life After Deathrow mixtape in October, he's back with his sixth studio album, a new deal with Atlantic Records, and a renewed vigor.

A rapper with that pedigree could have phoned in this record, content to rest on his reputation. Instead, Touch Down 2 Cause Hell is unremittingly intense from the cover image to the sharpened guest appearances. The established stars who appear on this record—T.I., Jeezy, and Rick Ross—manage to sound better than they have in years ("Spoil You", "Mercy on My Soul" and "Drop Top Music", respectively), all flawlessly executing that whole effortlessly charismatic "I'm happy, sex is pretty nice, and money is great" thing that they do. Boosie also scores appearances from younger voices like J. Cole, Young Thug, and Rich Homie Quan (aka The Artists Formerly Known as Rich Gang) who all appear, with middling results. Not surprisingly, longtime collaborator and former Trill Ent. labelmate Webbie appears, and listeners new to Boosie can get a taste of their raunchy chemistry, which powered projects like 2003's classic album Ghetto Stories and street hits like "On That Level".

In a way, the album plays out like a classic gangster-movie script. A man serves some time, comes home, and proceeds to restore his world to the way things were before he went away. Boosie jumps in with vigor, opening the album with a brief "Minor setback for a major comeback" line before absolutely rapping his ass off on the Black Metaphor-produced "Intro - Get 'Em Boosie". After the reintroduction, he lays waste to the pretenders who have popped up while he was in jail (on "No Juice" and "Hip Hop Hooray"), laments those who are no longer here (on the Keyshia Cole-assisted "Black Heaven"), opines on love ("She Don't Love Me"), and even manages to have some fun. For the most part, though, it's all business.

The record isn't the home run Boosie probably needs. It could stand to be trimmed a bit and while the producers—a mostly solid lineup of London on Da Track, Kane Beatz, J Reid and fellow Louisianans Kenoe (Nicki's "Beez in the Trap") and Mouse on tha Track (the longtime Boosie/Webbie collaborator who made "Wipe Me Down")—all put in decent work, nothing leaps out or creates any urgency, which is troubling since the last thing Boosie—a man who managed to avoid the popular-sound ambulance chase that comes with a long-term major rap career— wants to do after so many years away is waste any time.