Rick Ross's "Rich Forever" Brims With Cameos It's been so long since the once-legendary rapper Nas lived up to the promise of his early albums that the base expectation for his new music is disappointment. So it's been jarring recently to hear him on Hot 97 (97.1 FM in New York), on a new song, sounding like the rapper he was in the mid-1990s: wise, with a sharp eye for detail; pouring phrases together in dizzying jumbles; and showing off the pain that throbs beneath the calluses formed by years of exposure to the streets. How did Nas leap from confused elder statesman back to sage corner-boy chronicler? All it took was Rick Ross, hip-hop's great fantasist. The song is "Triple Beam Dreams," from Mr. Ross's mixtape "Rich Forever," which was released online Friday to great fanfare. Nas's verse is intense, a detailed story of a young drug dealer who doesn't have the heart for the work: I remember watching "Scarface" the first time: Look at that big house, that Porsche paid for by crime. How could I sell this poison to my peoples? In my mind They dumb and destroy themselves is how I rationalize. He sounds pitiable, which is to say electric. This is not only Nas at his best, but also the vintage version of Nas that made him a hero in the first place. Give Mr. Ross credit: he hears the best in other rappers, and sometimes pilfers it for himself. He's become an omnivore, his own repertory growing with his success, which isn't always how things work. With clusters of meaty verses and throbbing, moody production, "Rich Forever" is almost on par with his last two solo albums, "Deeper Than Rap" and "Teflon Don" (Maybach Music/Slip-N-Slide/Def Jam), both great. In just a few years he's become a real bear of a rapper. Powerful, indignant, protective: that's how a bear feels, and that's how Mr. Ross sounds, as if nothing could possibly derail him, and everyone who walks with him will be safe. That's reflected in the quality of the guest appearances on "Rich Forever," which is high, almost to the point of tilting the scales in favor of the guests over the host. Rap cameos have been reduced to cheap commodity over the years, but these feel alive. Not only is a Ross mixtape an event, but there's also something about Mr. Ross that allows these artists to be their best selves, or better than that. Or reminds them that they too can make it up as they go along. It's still worth remembering that even while Mr. Ross faced attacks about the gaps between his personal history and his persona, he kept working hard, choosing art over history. So why can't everyone else do the same? Take Drake, whose verse on "Stay Schemin" - the hook is borrowed from a unreleased Nas song, oddly enough - is phenomenally sinister, a quality he's not known for. "Don't be ducking like you never wanted nothing/It's feeling like rap changed, there was a time it was rugged," he raps, in what appears to be a swipe at Common and a dark salvo in what's becoming a worthless war of words. "Might look light, but we heavy, though," he adds. The toughness appears to be contagious: Common, acting like the battle-ready rapper he was a decade and a half ago, retaliated with his own tepid version of "Stay Schemin" that takes shots at Drake. There's a characteristically mean verse from Styles P on "Keys to the Crib" (it's hard to make Styles any grimier than he already is), and oddball boasting by Pharrell, who doesn't rap nearly enough anymore, on "MMG The World Is Ours." On "Off the Boat" the sometimes ham-handed French Montana cleverly apes the "Atlantic/Atlantic" rhyme from Mr. Ross's 2006 debut single "Hustlin,"" then adds some droll boasts: "I just fired my banker/Now I just rubber band it." 2 Chainz, another rapper once maligned or even dismissed but who has lately been hitting an impressive stride, blends nimble wordplay with flashes of wit on the unprintably titled song he shares with Ross and Wale here. He's a fountain of clever turns of phrase - "Chain cost a coupe/Coupe cost a crib"; "Every beat I'm toe-tagging/Charm big as a Volkswagen" - and unlikely bragging: "Got a side of my garage that say "foreign only." " "Rich Forever" also has a pair of songs featuring the longtime Ross advocate Diddy, who is all sorts of profane on "Holy Ghost": Forget "your dreams," he sneers, using harsher language, "this is reality." Many of Diddy's best songs in recent years have also featured Mr. Ross, who has eagerly embraced the role of the great reinvigorator. He's a student and now also a role model, the forceful upstart who reminds everyone else why they started telling stories in the first place.