Exclaim!'s Top 10 Hip-Hop Albums of 2017

In the two years since *To Pimp a Butterfly*, we’ve hung on Kendrick Lamar\'s every word—whether he’s destroying rivals on a cameo, performing the #blacklivesmatter anthem *on top of a police car* at the BET Awards, or hanging out with Obama. So when *DAMN.* opens with a seemingly innocuous line—\"So I was taking a walk the other day…”—we\'re all ears. The gunshot that abruptly ends the track is a signal: *DAMN.* is a grab-you-by-the-throat declaration that’s as blunt, complex, and unflinching as the name suggests. If *Butterfly* was jazz-inflected, soul-funk vibrance, *DAMN.* is visceral, spare, and straight to the point, whether he’s boasting about \"royalty inside my DNA” on the trunk-rattling \"DNA.\" or lamenting an anonymous, violent death on the soul-infused “FEAR.” No topic is too big to tackle, and the songs are as bold as their all-caps names: “PRIDE.” “LOYALTY.” “LOVE.” \"LUST.” “GOD.” When he repeats the opening line to close the album, that simple walk has become a profound journey—further proof that no one commands the conversation like Kendrick Lamar.

“WE IN YEAR 3230 WIT IT,” Vince Staples tweeted of his second album. “THIS THE FUTURE.” In fact, he’s in multiple time zones here. Delivered in his fluent, poetic flow, the lyrical references reach back to 16th-century composer Louis Bourgeois, while “BagBak” captures the stark contrasts of Staples’ present (“I pray for new McLarens/Pray the police don’t come blow me down because of my complexion.”) With trap hi-hats sprayed across ’70s funk basslines (“745”) and Bon Iver fused into UK garage beats (“Crabs in a Bucket”), the future is as bold as it is bright.

As its title suggests (albeit a little backhandedly), *Flower Boy* explores a softer side of Tyler, the Creator. Not that he wasn’t thoughtful before, or that he’s lost his edge now—if anything, the dark wit and internal conflict that made *Goblin* a lightning bolt in 2011 has only gotten richer and more resonant, offset by a sound that cherry-picks from early-\'90s hip-hop and plush, Stevie-style soul (“Garden Shed,” the Frank Ocean-featuring “911 / Mr. Lonely”). “Tell these black kids they can be who they are,” he raps on “Where This Flower Blooms.” “Dye your hair blue, s\*\*t, I’ll do it too.”

On his second album, the Brooklyn rapper’s heart still lies with hip-hop’s golden age. While trading verses with ScHoolboy Q and Styles P on “ROCKABYE BABY” and “SUPER PREDATOR,” his deft lyricism is as evocative of East Coast rap’s early-\'90s glory days as his buttery boom-bap. His thoughts, however, focus firmly on contemporary America, and he riffs on government, racism, and freedom with absorbing frankness. “DEVASTATED” is entirely forward-facing, saluting his personal triumph over hard times on top of sparkling trap beats.

The Mississippi MC’s ambitious third album is split between his stage persona and private life—the first half opens with “Big K.R.I.T.”; the second, “Justin Scott.” Fittingly, K.R.I.T.’s Southern rap purism is at its most personal here: “Price of Fame” explores the disconnect between success and true happiness. But the mood lifts on trunk-rattlers like the T.I.-featuring “Big Bank” and space-funk slow-burner “Aux Cord,” an homage to soul legends from Parliament to B.B. King.