LL Cool J hasn’t made a memorable rap record in this millennium, but he’s been professionally “macho” for well over a decade. Uncle L has become the LAPD, the arresting citizen. He's become Sam Hanna, an ex-Navy Seal with expertise in Middle Eastern Affairs, on NCIS: Los Angeles. Unfortunately, hanging out in skintight thermals with Chris O’ Donnell never made anyone a better rapper.

For the last few months, LL Cool J has been in troll mode like it he’d been cast to star in the big-budget CGI 3-D remake. There was his 2012 single called “Ratchet,” where he effectively killed the word in a three-minute sting operation. Then there was his Brad Paisley collaboration, “Accidental Racist,” which aspired to “start a conversation about race” with the subtlety of Tyler Perry in a muumuu. One of the few saving graces of Authentic is that it doesn’t include “Accidental Racist.” Instead, it has the Paisley-addled “Live For You,” which sounds like the poetry of a love-starved Queens sixth grader with a penchant for NASCAR.

Michael Jordan on the Wizards is the preferred cliché to illustrate late-career waddling from a once-great artist; this is far worse. Authentic answers the question, "What would happen if Jordan actually tried to play at 50 in the Turkish League?" It might seem hyperbolic now to compare LL and MJ, but it wasn’t unreasonable during the pre-Phil Jackson era (at the very least, LL was the rap game Dominique Wilkins).

Listen to this “After Midnight Freestyle” from 1985. The aerial technique, rapid fire and syllable fracturing beat Rakim and Kool G Rap by years. LL basically invented crossover puppy love rap and slayed everyone from Kool Moe Dee to Canibus. He came back again and again, and even survived wearing FUBU do-rags to make a song as hard as “Ill Bomb.” Until Jay-Z became The Great Gatsby, James Todd Smith was the model of rap longevity.

Maybe that’s why Authentic seems so spectacularly awful. He doesn’t need to do this. His legacy is secure. But we know why this has to happen. LL Cool J even admits on “Bath Salt” that he’d “give all but my soul to have another smash.” It’s the kind of middle-aged lament that would seem immensely sad if you didn’t stop to consider that he makes seven figures a year, just hosted the Grammys, and doesn’t seem to understand the definition of bath salt. Who needs this when there's Gunplay?

You could write an entire crossover fan fiction piece about how these songs came together. Travis Barker meets Bootsy Collins for a song called “Bartender Please.” “Not Leaving You” pairs Eddie Van Halen with the lead singer from Fitz and the Tantrums. During the chorus, LL licks his lips and murmurs, “Fitz and the Tantrums, ugh…Farmers Boulevard.” There are two songs with Snoop Dogg and Charlie Wilson apiece, but LL never once matches them together. There is 200% more Seal than any album in 2013 should possess. There is no silver lining here. The beats sound like G-Unit castaways from 2007; the guest spots feel like darts drunkenly hurled at a wall, the rhymes are so bad that the sentence where he says “it’s beat salad when I toss this,” might not be the worst on the record.

If you want to hear songs about how LL will murder a girl’s “box” while telling her to “Instagram her man,“ this is what you’ve been waiting for. It’s like it was originally written as the long-lost soundtrack for the movie, Wild Hogs — except with LL’s promise of “doggy style for dessert." At one point he describes himself as “Maserati Cool J,” which is actually perfect. This is Midlife Crisis Music (to be sung to the tune of “Aston Martin Music.”) You can almost picture the botox and the sports car slowly cruising up to the valet at The W Hotel.

That’s not even really getting into the lyrics. At times, they’re skeezy old lecher: “I put my lips on every inch of your back/ It’s my pleasure to fall into your crack.” At times, they’re Insane Clown Posse-ish: “I’ve got a lot of crazy shit on my mind/ Like why did the Pope resign.” Others are just completely fucking bizarre: “We went from Pee Wee Kirkland to Pee Wee Herman.” On the last track, he declares: “The world is a steak and I’m going to chew it up.” And maybe that’s the problem: LL already chewed everything a long time ago and this is some failed attempt to reverse engineer himself back to stardom. Samples from “Going Back to Cali” and Public Enemy’s “Welcome to the Terrordome” get contemporary face lifts that confirm the worst fears of anyone who believes culture is in constant erosion.

LL Cool J once rapped hard as hell, so much that the biggest hip-hop festival was named after one of his songs. You can’t blame the man for wanting to continue what he’s loved doing for the last 30 years. But I assure you, you do not want to “step into the bath salt.” For his 13th studio album, LL Cool J made the 13^th floor of rap records; this should not exist.

Authentic is out now via 429 Records.