Snoop Dogg @ O2 Academy, 9 October

The Doggfather has long been the smooth, acceptable and debonair face of hip-hop and – for better or worse – his performance tonight reflects it. But when G-funk anthems like Gin & Juice and the still-intimidating Serial Killa are wheeled out with comforting regularity, you kind of miss the old guy. Snoop’s cocksure strut and flowing rhymes take the crowd back to when rap was something fresh, a confident meeting of soul and swagger that could unite the world under a banner of weed and women.

His more recent dependence on dance-floor fillers, though, is a dark signifier of what happens when good things go the way of month-old milk. The crude R&B pump of Wet illustrates this progression with disheartening accuracy, those ever-so-fly rhymes taking a back seat to half-hearted ‘sex you up’ platitudes, while even his own pimpin’ presence is overshadowed by a trio of leather-clad dancers that make BASEketball cheerleaders look like the Bolshoi Ballet.

There are some unexpected highlights – like impromptu renditions of Fiddy’s P.I.M.P. and guaranteed crowd-mover Jump Around – that restore some degree of faith, but after a mere hour it’s all over. And that includes the time set aside for an infuriatingly self-congratulatory send-off that manages to outstay its own welcome. The classics show that Snoop can still come with the grit of a true showman, just a shame to see it squandered over a David Guetta beat.