But those punk-funk anthems aren't even the record's highlights. The infectious Ms. Jackson is a conflicted apology to all the baby mamas' mamas that builds a dense, playful sound out of drum and bass skitter, stray piano licks, and buried vocals. And the double-entendre I'll Call B 4 I Cum harnesses the loopiest, funkiest synth riff since Prince's Delirious to a thundering bass beat in a goofball ode to sexual reciprocity. (Inspirational lyric: No, I don't want to see your thong. I kinda dig them old-school regular drawers.) If Stankonia is a hip-hop record -- and it certainly is -- it's one that Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five or the Treacherous Three never saw coming. It's a record that probably has as much in common with experimental rhythmic excursions like Tricky's Maxinquaye and D'Angelo's Voodoo as it does with any previous rap record. Yet it still brings all the commonplace joys of good hip-hop in abundance. Here is a serious and important record that still hues strongly to the Chuck Berry principle of rock and roll: good beat, smart and witty lyrics, soulful vocals.