Snoop Lion, the Rastafarian reincarnation of Bob Marley we knew so briefly, is dead. Save your prayers.
Snoop Dogg is reborn, just in time for Easter, clutching a Bible and an Alan Partridge-sized collection plate.
It's clear now that Snoop's true master is neither Slick Rick nor Dr Dre, but Richard Branson.
This latest brand extension is a two-hour-plus hip-hop gospel confection that's briefly charmingly pleasant, then heartbreakingly boring. It has less edge than a child's balloon.
Given Uncle Snoop's supposed journey from pornography, pimping and murder into the glory of God's kingdom, it's dispiriting that so much material here is boilerplate encomia, feebly incurious about sin and repentance.
- Damien Morris/Guardian News & Media
