A dubby, Roots/Reggae upstroke and epic snare comprise the bulk of the beat in "After the Song," on top of which the comedically named Prynce Charles the Ruler lays down some funky, fresh, confident rhymes that remind me of an early Kanye. The track's lyrics are uninspiring, mostly about intentions to dip out and have sex when the song ends (which kinda sucks for whatever poor artist happens to come on next). But Prynce Charles has a perfect flow; melodic, warm, and charismatic, with a touch of playfulness perfect for the late-night club crowd. Mainstream hip-hop has come a long, long way from the streets of the Bronx, now mostly geared to mixed-race, wealthy clubbers with Jaeger bombs and hormones...still, the markability of such "hip-pop" is undeniable, and Prynce Charles is playing the game well.