Rick Ross at the Nokia Theatre

Rick Ross took his rap name from an antihero of the '80s (that would be the California cocaine kingpin Ricky Ross). But the Miami MC’s façade of opulence and confidence seems more akin to a different boss from the same era: Ronald Reagan.

Ross is an enormous man whose physique -– two fleshy spheres of torso and head dipped in wooly beard -- evokes a Santa Claus that only delivers Bolivian primo and Louis Vuitton sunglasses. But it’s no accident that the perpetually underestimated rapper named an album “Teflon Don.” His whole career, like Reagan's, is a lesson in shaking off detractors by staying on message and promising to deliver the goods. And Ross' new free mixtape "Rich Forever" is very good indeed.

His Friday set at the Nokia Theatre showed how one of commercial hip-hop’s unlikeliest fixtures rose from a coke-rap caricature to a dominant MC who's challenged what it means to be credible as a rapper.

When Ross first emerged with 2006’s "Port of Miami," critics pounced on several perceived weaknesses. The first was that he wasn’t especially good at rapping. His craggy, minimal delivery wasn’t exactly brimming with verbal dexterity -- his breakthrough single "Hustlin'" memorably rhymed "Atlantic" (the record label) with "Atlantic" (the ocean). The character of the rapper-as-cocaine-kingpin was already overripe, with Young Jeezy and Clipse the more regarded flag bearers.

Revelations that Ross had actually served on the right side of the law as a Miami prison guard seemed certain to sink his proverbial speedboat full of kilos -– a fate that 50 Cent encouraged by calling Ross “Officer Ricky,” and which led the actual Ricky Ross to unsuccessfully sue for trademark infringement.

But what happened next is a textbook in hip-hop crisis management. Ross issued a sort of non-denial-denial (Yes, I worked in a prison; yes I also simultaneously trafficked millions of dollars of cocaine into Florida) and went on with the business of making more regally gothic LP’s about his import/export trade. It helped that the singles -- especially the star-making Lex Luger track “B.M.F. (Blowin’ Money Fast)” -– had all the apocalyptic menace of “Ride of the Valkyries.”

MTV VMAs: Busta Rhymes says Adam Levine is right [Video]

Earlier this week, Maroon 5 frontman Adam Levine made headlines when he declared that the MTV Video Music Awards were the one day a year that the network "pretends to still care about music."

On the black carpet at the awards ceremony Sunday evening, rapper Busta Rhymes said he agreed with Levine's sentiment.

"I think it is true, unfortunately," said the performer, who guessed he has been to 12 Video Music Awards. "It ain't what they used to be as far as supporting the music, you know what I'm sayin'? But at the end of the day, you still gotta come out and make sure that you are being acknowledged properly ... So I salute Adam Levine from Maroon 5 for shedding a light on that. It's real spit."

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--Amy Kaufman

twitter.com/AmyKinLA

Album Review: Busta Rhymes' latest

Busta Rhymes has always been a populist at heart.

Blessed with the boundless energy of a Benzedrine addict and the verbal gymnastics of the speed-talking Micro-Machines Man, the Brooklyn-born veteran has amassed a consistently party-friendly discography.

While his NYC peers often struggled to earn radio play and mass appeal, all Busta needed was a Hype Williams fish-eye lens and a hot beat to achieve MTV Jams ubiquity and film offers. Even Martha Stewart couldn’t help but be charmed by the dreadlocked and dress-clad Rhymes during their iconic appearance at the 1997 MTV Video Music Awards.

Yet with crack-rap au courant, 2006’s “The Big Bang” found Rhymes shearing his natty dreads and inking a deal with hard-core impresarios Aftermath/Interscope. Gone was the ebullient and effortless radio touch, replaced by a scowl and screwy coke boasts on songs such as "Cocaina.”

His latest, “Back on My B.S.,” has been described by Rhymes himself as a comeback album of sorts -- with the legal and label problems that previously plagued him replaced by the sanguine attitude that once catapulted him to platinum status. Accordingly, anticipation for the record ran high in the blog world, thanks to the 2008 single “Don’t Touch Me (Throw ‘Da Water on ‘Em),” which recalled his early crowd-please “Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Can See."

A reinvigorated Busta Rhymes skirts controversy, talks new album

On 2006’s "The Big Bang," many longtime Busta Rhymes fans found themselves baffled by the veteran rapper’s new direction.

Under the aegis of Interscope/Aftermath and Dr. Dre, the rapper born Trevor Smith had buzzed his trademark dreadlocks and wore a menacing glower, a marked contrast from the gleeful anarchy that prevailed during his first decade as a solo artist. While the album scored a platinum plaque and his first-ever No. 1 debut on the U.S. pop chart, it featured a heavier, embittered-sounding Rhymes, prone to cocaine and crime boasts and morose paranoia.

What most didn’t know was that the music’s somber tone stemmed from extenuating circumstances. Over a two-year stretch, the Flipmode leader witnessed the murder of close friend and bodyguard Israel Ramirez; saw himself arraigned on charges of third-degree assault; faced weapons charges when police found a machete in his car; and was accused of attacking an ex-driver. To finish the unfortunate farrago, it was reported that a squabble over creative differences with Chairman Jimmy Iovine caused him to leave Interscope.