This section does not cite any sources. Please help improve this section by adding citations to reliable sources. Unsourced material may be challenged and removed. ( August 2015) ( Learn how and when to remove this template message) Immature, but still good There’s some impressive lyricism on here, and the production is certainly unusual, but this is clearly a much less mature album than Ill Manors. Plan B manages to milk his biographical plight without resorting to the childhood-trauma-as-pissing-contest tactics of most memoirists, even if he does exceedingly privilege death as a harbinger of realism. (In fact, some of his efforts reveal melodramaturgy similar to the convenient resolutions of "issues-based" cinema such as Traffic and Crash.) The darkness can be a little much, because he's never flat-out ridiculous like, say, Fear smirk-singing about nun assault, but B's cauldron of bits from the Bible, Nas, and Prodigy gets lightened a tad by shout-outs to Coolio and Hall & Oates. But go beneath the obvious Marshall Mathers influences and you’ll see that while Plan B creates characters who shout bleak, brutal words about drugs, murder and absent fathers there is a strict moral tone. He’s also a rapper who joins himself on acoustic guitar and references Radiohead and Cobain. You can almost hear a marketing manager rubbing his hands with glee.

All these elements, which should jar, coalesce into a complete urban vision that showcases Plan B’s rare talent. It’s a world of casual violence and worthless, dead-end lives. His world may be grittier, but Plan B’s up there with Alex Turner as a lyricist, crafting simple and darkly witty songs about the reality of life in Britain. It’s the brilliantly foul-mouthed With an acoustic guitar as his USP, and an attitude that pitches him somewhere between Mike Skinner and Eminem, those of a liberal persuasion will consider Drew a true reflection of the capital's meanest streets. A verbose white rapper whose penchant for violent language belies a well-honed conscience. Plan B's record label couldn't have asked for better advance publicity. The debut by 22-year-old Ben Drew, a bleak, visceral, obscenity-strewn British urban album, arrives at the end of a torrid fortnight for bleak, visceral, obscenity-strewn British urban music. Two weeks ago, fresh from raining brimstone on the threat posed to society by the preponderance of Terry's Chocolate Oranges in WH Smith, David Cameron further proved his determination not to waste time on footling matters by having a pop at Tim Westwood. Sadly, it wasn't the pop most people would like a politician to have at Tim Westwood - promising immediate legislation to stop Radio One's hip-hop supremo talking like that, or possibly at all - but the old shibboleth about hip-hop encouraging violence. Grime rapper Lethal Bizzle mounted a defence, indignant that the lyrics of, say, his hit single Pow! - "eight mill shoot it, nine mill shoot it" rapped guest MC Hotshot, "Tommy gun shoot it, Lyman shoot it, Kalashnikov shoot it, AK shoot it, Gatlin shoot it" - could be perceived as promoting guns. He called Cameron "a doughnut" and heralded his commitment to ending gun and knife violence by signing 14 young east London rappers to his own label. He doesn’t glorify nastiness. Instead, ultra-violence is the road to nowhere: the Damilola Taylor inspired ‘Kidz’. Drugs will eventually ruin you: the Rage Against The Machine-driven ‘No More Eatin’’, a rap that rushes with the deadly thrill of an out-of-control car racing down a hill. The 10th anniversary edition of the classic record from Plan B, released on National Album Day on 'ox-blood' coloured vinyl.Plan B (aka Ben Drew) must be David 'Dave' Cameron's worst nightmare. The East London-born rapper utters the 'c'word within 10 seconds of his debut album, and laces his rap with references to anal rape, parental abuse, honour killing and biros in eyeballs... Who Needs Actions When You Got Words is the debut studio album released by British rapper and songwriter Plan B on 26 June 2006. The album was recorded with producers such as Fraser T Smith, Paul Epworth, The Earlies and The Nextmen. The title of the album derives from a line in the Meat Puppets song " Plateau".