Akon’s Jamaican friends return, and he somehow resists the urge to sing their chorus for them (not actually sure if they’re still signed with him or not, mind)…
Hillary Brown: Picture a brick wrapped in lace: a clunky, inflexible object with a coating of stripper-wear. This would be pretty much the result.
Rodney J. Greene: Slick, and not in a good way. Neither the patois chat nor the straighter singing convince. The march-to-battle drum-track and bull-frog bass can make me forgive the aforementioned, but even then I could stand a bit more dutty in my dancehall.
M. H. Lo: I came in armed with lots of disgusting “but which bone?!” puns, but it turns out that I was way ahead of Brick & Lace, whose track is devoid of double entendre, or at least that one. Indeed, the lyric is a big pile of nothing (He’s bad! She can’t resist him! That’s it!), and the music only slightly more substantial. The echoey synths are just Timbaland, while the best thing about the song – its beat – is a bit “Oh Sheila”esque, and even that grew tedious after three and a half minutes.
Martin Kavka: One of the two sisters is wearing Beyonce’s leftover outfits from the “Ring The Alarm” video; later, she becomes a dead ringer for Alicia Keys. The vocal style is at times dancehall, but at other times pop. I’m not against having multiple identities, but I am offended by the sense that they’re just throwing everything against the wall just to see what might stick. Worst of all, they don’t even seem to be having fun while they pander to what they believe the audience wants.
Alex Macpherson: What other genre is as reliably excellent as the female R&B-inflected dancehall summer banger? Extra points for opening with the couplet “Every kiss, every touch, boy you got me blushin’/You play my roulette like a Russian.”
Martin Skidmore: I really like it when the voices are together here – absolutely lovely harmonies. They’re pretty good one at a time too, without too much of Kingston in their voices most of the time, but there is the odd unmistakeably reggae inflection, and the rhythms are like a robotic dancehall, perhaps as produced by American R&B people.
Jordan Sargent: I miss Nina Sky.
Ian Mathers: 
Edward Okulicz: