Lupe Fiasco is an enigma. From his politically infused lyrics to his ongoing battle with…

Lupe Fiasco has worked to go against the grain in the hip-hop industry but has fallen short in past albums.

Lupe Fiasco is an enigma. From his politically infused lyrics to his ongoing battle with Atlantic Records, the Chicago emcee has kept fans on a rollercoaster ride the past two years. And unfortunately, the ride isn’t over.

Welcome to Lupe Fiasco’s Food & Liquor II: The Great American Rap Album Pt. 1. The newest album from the controversial hip-hop star doesn’t meet expected potential.

The last time I bought a physical CD was in 2011 when Fiasco released his previous studio album, Lasers. Although I hadn’t bought a CD in nearly a decade, the quality of Lupe’s first two albums — Food & Liquor and The Cool — left me no other option than to support a fellow Chicagoan. In the end, my attempt to back one of my favorite artists in his battle against big-business music resulted in disappointment.

From earning a dismal 57-out-of-100 rating by the popular website Metacritic to provoking mixed backlash from Fiasco’s faithful followers, Lasers was a flop. Some believed Lupe was to blame, while others believed that his record label, Atlantic Records, was at fault. Both parties were frustrated, as was Lupe himself.

After thanking his loyal fans with an impressive mixtape titled Friend of the People: I Fight Evil, I thought Lupe was back. And when the singles for Food & Liquor II: The Great American Rap Album Pt. 1 came out, I really started to get excited. Tracks like “Around My Way (Freedom Ain’t Free)” captured the essence of the “fresh, cool young Lu” that he talked about in his hit track “Superstar” — a Lupe who wasn’t happy with the government, wanted peace on earth and used his gifted lyricism as an outlet for his frustration.

Pushing along, Lupe released the album’s second single, titled “B*tch Bad.” As one of the leading socially conscious hip-hop emcees in today’s rap game, Lupe took it upon himself to discuss the mistreatment of women in today’s society. “Bitch bad, women good / Lady better, they misunderstood,” Lupe says in the track’s chorus, seemingly trying to act as the role model he believes is missing from rap.

This brings us to the highly anticipated release of Lupe Fiasco’s Food & Liquor II: The Great American Rap Album Pt. 1 in full form.

“Blood, sweat and tears, police batons / Gas masks and bullets create graffiti on corners / Murals that salute freedom or death for liberty,” Ayesha Jaco raps in the album’s introduction, “Ayesha Says.” The intro covers everything from the violence in the West Bank to the Trayvon Martin case. It might not be Lupe’s voice, but this is the Lupe style that listeners have grown accustomed to, and for the first time in a long time, things were off to the right start.

The album’s next track, “Strange Fruition,” serves as a forum for Lupe to voice his opinion. Confusion, strife and sorrow hang over the song like a rain cloud, ominous and ready to strike as he laments over the state of America, the rap game and everything in between. “That’s why my sounds are sermons that’s so full of wrath / Baptize your mind let your brain take a bath,” Lupe says, urging the people to join him as he attempts to reclaim his world. Two tracks into the album, and we’re still OK.

Then we reach the track titled “Battle Scars.” Featuring singer Guy Sebastian, the track is more reminiscent of a pop break-up song than anything Lupe seems to be striving for. It’s out of place and not his style. Simply put, the track doesn’t belong on the album. “The wound heals, but it never does / That’s ’cause you’re at war with love,” Lupe says. This is the track where Lupe descends from the pulpit and turns the dial to Kiss FM.

The remainder of the 16-track album tries to regain the steam created in the album’s beginning, but it fails to pick up where it left off. Tracks like “Audubon Ballroom” continue the trend, sampling The Game’s “My Life” instead of following suit with earlier tracks such as “Around My Way” and using beats from hip-hop’s Golden Age.

Maybe he should have had a shorter track list. Maybe the record company managed to get its way once again in hopes of producing something more mainstream. Whatever it is, it isn’t Lupe, and even the album’s well-done outro “Hood Now” can’t save the day.

Even the album cover harkens to the dark themes of its contents, which focus on the struggles of our times. Both sides of the jewel case, as well as the album itself, are all black. It’s as if Lupe is giving one last defiant blow t his archnemeses — big record companies.

Unfortunately, it seems that the battle is one he simply can’t win.