Rap needs a hero. It’s been breathing its last, dying breath amid a hail of Pro-Tooled gangsta beats and trite, meaningless lyrics for far too long.

Don’t get me wrong: I love some Warren G, Snoop and Dre, and I acknowledge their significance in the scope of music history.

Things are going downhill though. For proof, look at such recent hits as “This is Why I’m Hot,” a song with the lyrical depth of an inner city eighth-grader’s ennui-induced scribblings. So I say it once more: rap could really, really use a hero.

Enter Brother Ali. Weighing in at 250 lbs., this six-foot-something albino black man hailing from the snowy land of Minneapolis, Minn., is trying to save rap – or at least bring it back to its roots. He’s a contender for the crown in the underground rap scene which is based on a number of factors.

First, he’s an albino – an albino black man, at that – with a hulking figure. He’s super-sensitive to light and prefers dark environments. Imagine Silas the monk from the Da Vinci Code, then slap a little meat on his bones. Also astounding is the fact that it’s been a mere four years since Ali put himself on the map with his critically acclaimed 2003 debut album, “Shadows on the Sun.” Does he have enough under his belt to take the title?

The answer lies in “The Undisputed Truth,” released April 10 on Rhymesayers Entertainment. Legendary producer ANT, best known for his work with Atmosphere, returns for a second tag-team match. ANT samples heavily from a bottomless record crate of funk and soul records, laying down a layer of ground-shaking bass and sharp, attacking snare to form beats that perfectly complement Ali’s funk-infused style.

“The Undisputed Truth” is a heavy album title. There’s a lot of weight implied, a lot to live up to. So how does he measure up on this album? Obviously, truth is open to interpretation. It’s such a philosophical ideal that some wonder if truth even exists – but Ali talks about life, and his life is his truth.

The first two tracks, “Whatcha Got” and “Lookin’ at Me Sideways,” are solid opener material – an announcement of Brother Ali’s greatness (“Ali the new name by which greatness is known”) and an announcement of his realness (“I ain’t got to prove to any of you that anything I ever said was the truth but I’m ready to do it”), respectively. Brother’s first single off the record, “Truth Is,” is pretty self-explanatory.

Other standouts include “Daylight,” a track that deals heavily with religion and race. Ali is a Muslim, so the religious aspect of the song is made that much sharper because he puts a relevant perspective on a misconstrued institution. “Freedom Ain’t Free” deals with the “death” of Jason, Ali’s former identity, before the adoption of the Islamic religion and his subsequent renaming: “I kill the devil wherever he resides / Even if he hiding in me he got to die.” The beat is driven by a grooving bass line; the drums take a sideline for once, though the sprinkled bongos give the track a very poetic, personal feel.

The album ends with a rather unsettling track in which Brother Ali casts aside all notions of the tortured artist to admit that, for once in his life, he’s at a point where he can truly be happy. Epiphanies and revelations are supposed to come in the form of a retirement album, like Jay-Z’s “final” album. But to end your second album with a proclamation of how awesome everything is – that’s simply unheard of.

For a point of comparison, I’ll cite the closing line from “Glass,” the final song on Eyedea & Abilities’ 2003 album, “E&A:” “Now we know enough about each other/Everything is shattered.”

What does Brother Ali have to say? “And all corny bull**** aside, your boy’s smiling for real the first time in my life.” Strip off the tough guy phrasing and you’ve got the simplest of happy endings.

Ali succeeds in delivering a tight album with excellent mastering, high production value, and his own form of the truth. He entertains, running the gamut from funk-riddled spiels on the government and slavery to “Faheem,” a heartfelt ode to his little boy. He also enlightens. After all, how often do you get to hear about life as viewed through the lenses of an albino black man with sick rap skills? Take Ali’s own advice: “You don’t need to hear my race in the song/You hear the plane that I’m on.” That is the truth.