And, of course, trophy for Da Baddest…

[Video][Website]
[6.67]

Megan Harrington: Much has changed since Trina skipped 6th period. Nicki Minaj broke mainstream just months after Trina’s last album, “internet rap” is now a genre, and Lil Wayne is perpetually on the verge of quitting rap forever (or dying). Trina shoves all that under the bed, instead pretending that nearly half a decade hasn’t passed her by. “Money Ain’t a Problem” succeeds in capturing Trina’s best qualities. Calling herself Barack Obama is choice, but my favorite line comes courtesy of radio sanitizing: “I’m busy skipping lines while you bum bums wait.” Preach it til payday, Trina! 
[8]

Anthony Easton: That sharp whine splits the whole song, like a saw through dry birch, though less polite, but this might be the leanest thing I have heard this year. When she says whip clean, that’s what it means, ruthless and efficient. A post capitalist, almost pornographic ode to the purity of material excess. Extra point for the bird song, two extra points for the whack-a-doodle camp drag of the coda. 
[9]

Alfred Soto: Flow, rhymes, tone — they ain’t problems either. She’s never impressed me beyond being a consistent presence on other people’s records, though.
[6]

Brad Shoup: Everything’s wheedly, like she’s suddenly afraid of the sonics measuring up. Didn’t use to be the case. Still, she sells nearly every boast, only to be ruined by that amazing outro. Let her speak next time, please.
[5]

Edward Okulicz: Trina’s braggadocio is fun rather than annoying because she doesn’t just go on about how she’s got money, although she doesn’t neglect the topic. She’s important, her accessories are all in order, she’s smart, she’s bad, and most of all, few say the word “bitches” with quite the naughty venom she does. And the track here is coldly sinister rather than merely aggressive, and Matlock’s tag makes me snort to myself each time I hear it.
[7]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Yeah, maybe I’m selfish, but I’ve wanted Trina to win ever since my teenage self was introduced to the Miami-licious insanity of “Pull Over”. But despite starting with some kingpin absurdity that fellow Slip-n-Slide graduate Rick Ross would appreciate (“I switched twenty-four outfits in one fuckin’ day!”), this goes nowhere, trudging along before cutting itself short. Still, I want to see her win — she struck out but she keeps swinging hard as she can. It’s not always the winning, it’s the trying that counts…
[5]