Hip-hop loves a franchise, and arguably none deserves more of that adoration than Lil Wayne’s *Tha Carter*. Plenty of rappers have gone the sequels route in the hopes of recapturing a vibe or reinvigorating a fanbase, but the first four installments of the Young Money impresario’s album series hit the culture like monumental events. The exhaustive way in which this quartet was discussed, dissected, ranked, and re-ranked by listeners and critics alike almost eclipsed their chart successes, securing Weezy’s spot in the G.O.A.T. debate forever. The seven-year gap between the fourth and fifth volumes felt like an eternity, especially as focus shifted towards fresh stars and new sounds. Yet even that wait came with a massive payoff—not rebooting the saga to suit the times but continuing his story in a way only he could. Another seven years may have passed, with a handful of mixtapes in between, yet this sixth volume proves well worth the wait. After the brief albeit maximalist opener “King Carter,” those who’ve missed his powerful punchlines and rich rhyme schemes are immediately rewarded with the triumphant “Welcome to Tha Carter.” As should be expected this deep into his storied career, his proverbial pen prevails on “Banned from NO” and “Peanuts 2 N Elephant,” just two examples of his devotion to the MC craft. Longtime fans will rejoice over the Mannie Fresh team-up “Bein Myself,” while those unsure of how a fortysomething Wayne fits into the contemporary mix will be corrected swiftly on the Wheezy-produced “Rari.” Though some vocally resisted his literal rock-star tendencies on records like 2010’s *Rebirth*, he remains committed to that side of his artistry. Starting with the opening moments of “Bells,” he reminds everyone listening that rap and rock share genetic material before wrapping his wordplay around an ’80s-informed flow. Mixing Weezy with Weezer, the inventive interpolation “Island Holiday” starts out like a faithful cover song until he swaps out the “hip hip” with “sip sip” and proceeds to make it his own. After a ruthless two-and-a-half-minute streak of bars, “Loki’s Theme” drops an unexpected swell of guitar soloing, leading directly into the acoustic balladry of “If I Played Guitar.” Considering his guest list includes Bono and Jelly Roll alongside Big Sean and BigXthaPlug, not to mention operatic pop icon Andrea Bocelli, clearly no one genre can contain the force that is Lil Wayne.
In the two and a half years since 2022’s *NO THANK YOU*, Little Simz attempted to write its follow-up four times, to no avail. From the outside, the London native was at the top of her game. Since 2021’s game-changing fourth album, *Sometimes I Might Be Introvert*, she’d won a Mercury Prize, owned the Glastonbury stage, and earned a spot among the power players of UK rap. But privately, her personal life was imploding. In 2025, word spread of the lawsuit Simz had filed against Inflo, the childhood friend and longtime collaborator who’d produced her last three albums, for allegedly failing to repay a 1.7-million-pound loan. The betrayal left the rapper at a loss, as she recounts on “Lonely”: “Sitting in the studio with my head in my hands/Thinking what am I to do with this music I can’t write?” From this turmoil, the 31-year-old musician arrived at a breakthrough that manifests on her sixth album, *Lotus*—named for the flower that thrives in muddy waters. Here Simz pulls no punches on the topic of her former friend, snarling her way through the bluesy opener “Thief” (“This person I’ve known my whole life, coming like the devil in disguise”) and the eerie “Flood,” produced by Miles Clinton James with cameos from Nigerian British pop star Obongjayar and South Africa’s Moonchild Sanelly. But the mood lifts on tracks like “Young,” a bit of post-punk method rapping on being dumb, broke, and alive (“A bottle of Rio and some chicken and chips/In my fuck-me-up pumps and my Winehouse quiff”), and on “Free,” a jazzy boom-bap meditation on love versus fear, on which Simz reaches a cathartic conclusion: “Love is every time I put pen to the page.”
Aesop Rock does not talk or tour. He has not been on a stage since 2017 or been interviewed since 2020. Instead, what one of his generation’s most recognizable and masterful voices continues to do as he enters the back half of his forties is rap—four albums since 2020 alone, each filled with his most harrowing or humorous experiences and a seemingly dauntless supply of esoteric or obvious enthusiasms. When he barks, “Anomaly in the algorithm, do the algebralculus/I’m all of Alexandria’s information in aggregate” at the start of “Checkers,” from his sprawling *Black Hole Superette*, it feels like he’s supplying a thesis statement of one—to be one of rap’s great outsiders, his rhymes free to do whatever they want. Would anyone else dare, after all, to spend three minutes chronicling the exponential growth curve of the snail population inside the aquarium he bought for his girlfriend, as he does on the dazzling “Snail Zero”? Or to use his dog’s mutt status and his cat’s tumescence to form a sort of superhero posse, as on “Movie Night”? Aesop Rock gets from Francis Bacon to H Mart, from EPMD to shaving cream and Nautica parkas, from the escape of his childhood hamster to the survival of Lahaina’s banyan tree in a matter of a few rhythmically intricate verses over spring-loaded beats. “Whole worth wrapped in what you can make with your bare hands/When sitting independent of the greater square dance,” he offers at one point, as if sneering at the music industry from the perfect privacy of his own studio. Indeed, no one else sounds or moves like Aesop Rock; on *Black Hole Superette*, he’s perhaps never sounded more like himself. The landmark track here might be “John Something,” where Aesop relays a story from his college days in Massachusetts above a hard-edged piano cut between percolating hand drums. It’s the tale of a visiting artist, possibly named John, who shows up to class to share slides of his photos but mostly just extols the Foreman-versus-Ali documentary *When We Were Kings*. Aesop rushed out to see the film and then felt its rush of excitement for himself, as he understood how vivid and compelling good storytelling might be. The gift of that artist was not his own work, but the enthusiasm he passed along for great work. It is clear that Aesop Rock—who counts Lupe Fiasco, Armand Hammer, and Open Mike Eagle as guests here—has passed that energy along to his successors and peers, even as he has remained on the industry’s outskirts. Thing is, he happens to remain one of the best rappers working too.
In the course of making his fourth album, Loyle Carner came to the conclusion that perhaps it was time to lighten up a little. “I needed to not take myself so seriously,” he tells Apple Music. “I think I’m learning how to do that slowly.” One thing that has undoubtedly helped iron out that furrowed brow is just how much the South London rapper, songwriter, spoken-word artist, and now actor, born Ben Coyle-Larner, is reveling in fatherhood. “My son was in the studio so much, we were just in a place of living in the moment,” he explains. “When you’re around kids, that’s the only thing that exists to them. There’s no present or past or future or whatever.” That sense of savoring the here and now runs right through *hopefully !*. It’s an album that shakes off the contemplative turmoil of 2022’s *hugo*, where he explored his relationship with his own father, with these songs possessing a reassuring warmth. An airy, elegant hip-hop record from an artist who sounds totally at ease with himself, *hopefully !* has a cover that serves as the perfect snapshot for its themes of paternal love. “It always happens that my son just decides to draw on my face,” he says. “My partner captured the moment. What’s so nice is you can’t tell in that photo if he’s supporting me or comforting me or if I’m comforting him. I think that’s true of our relationship. It’s quite ambiguous, who’s looking after who?” Let Loyle Carner guide through the soothing sounds of *hopefully !*, track by track. **“feel at home”** “This was made with a friend of mine called Zach Nahome. I went to his house and we made it quite quickly. I was trying really hard to not write too many words down. Then, when I brought it back to the studio with my friends that I was working on the rest of the album with, I played them a little voice note I had on my phone of my son playing wind chimes in the park and it just happened to be in the perfect key with the song. Literally, he was kind of playing along with the song. It had to be at the start of the song and everyone around me was like, ‘It has to be the opener.’” **“in my mind”** “If ‘feel at home’ is the opening credits then ‘in my mind’ is the first scene. This was actually the first song we made together as a band and the first song for this album. We were in the studio in between sessions on tour and we had two days in the studio. It was a totally clean slate. I was listening to a lot more music from my childhood, The Smiths, The Cure, Bob Dylan, Stevie Smith, Elliott Smith—a lot of Smiths!—and new stuff too like Fontaines D.C.. Trying to get back to the stuff I listened to before I was told what I should listen to. That was feeding into it a lot.” **“all i need”** “This is one of my favorites. I wrote it in the car park of a Big Yellow Self Storage in East London. I was struck with how many things people keep, all the stuff that they hold onto. I wish that we had less stuff as people. I was thinking about all the emotional baggage that you don’t see that people carry around. I wish you could put that in a Big Yellow Self Storage instead.” **“lyin”** “This was written just before my daughter was born. It was about not being sure if she was going to make it or not. Birth and pregnancy is so complicated, and it doesn’t always work out. I was thinking about who she would be and hoping that she makes it. Also, putting my son to bed and thinking about how that’s my favorite time and how scared I was the first time around I was having a kid and how light and chill I was the second time because I knew it was easier than I thought.” **“time to go”** “‘time to go’’s days were numbered on the album for a long time. I was trying to get it to fit into the palette of the rest of the music, it was cool but it sounded so big and I wanted it to feel small. Then we went around the houses, tried to take everything away from it and, in the end, we decided that it was meant to be what it was and we couldn’t change it. We left it how it was and gave it a chance. We knew that there was something about it that made us feel good. We were like, ‘Look, if we can’t figure out how to change it, but we want it to come out, it’s going to have to be what it is.’” **“horcrux”** “I was thinking about my son and my daughter. In Harry Potter, Voldemort has the Horcruxes, where he takes a piece of his soul and puts it somewhere else. Someone had said to me, ‘You only get out of life alive through your kids. They’re the ones who get you out of life alive.’ I thought it was such a funny saying but I thought about it a lot because all of the best bits of me, I’ve taken them and tried to put them into my kids.” **“strangers”** “I made this with the intention of passing it over to someone I’m a big fan of: Adrianne Lenker. I really wanted her to sing it. I thought she could sing better than me, but she wasn’t around or whatever, so it fell back to me. At first, I was going to put it in the bin, and then I was like, ‘Actually, maybe this has got a chance.’ Other people started saying to me, ‘Please don’t lose this song. I really love it,’ so I gave it a shot, and here it is. Singing is fucking scary, if I’m honest. I didn’t think it through until it was too late. Obviously, it’s easy in front of no one. Then, the more people who started to come into touch with it and start to listen to it, it’s been a bit more scary. I’m trying to roll with it, trying to brave it.” **“hopefully” (with Benjamin Zephaniah)** “This features Benjamin Zephaniah. I was trying to be a little bit more coded in my language and be abstract a bit more to protect my kids, it’s so hard to express my love for them, literally. The echo you can hear is me and my son underneath a bridge on our bike. Every time we cycle underneath a bridge, he says, ‘Echo,’ because he likes the way it sounds, and so do I. I’ve recorded loads of those. Then, Benjamin Zephaniah, at the end, I had watched this documentary the day before and I heard that excerpt, and I was like, ‘That sums up what I’m saying in a more literal and pointed way.’” **“purpose” (with Navy Blue)** “This features Navy Blue. That was a dream come true, to collab with him. It came about really easily. We had been texting a bit. I texted him on a whim and was like, ‘I made this song, I think you’ll like it.’ He was sat on a beach in Jamaica and he wrote to it then and there and sent it back the next day.” **“don’t fix it” (with Nick Hakim)** “This is me and the main man, Nick Hakim. It was the last song we made for the album. It was in the studio at his in New York. It was quite a profound day for me to watch him. I’m a big fan of Nick Hakim. He wasn’t singing because obviously it’s a hard thing to part with when it’s so special to you. Then he got hunched up into the corner, put the mic to his lips, and spoke this little chorus into the mic. It was a privilege to watch someone do the thing they’re meant to do in your presence.” **“about time”** “It had to be at the end of the album because of my son, ’cause it sounds like he’s telling me to stop making music and focus on being a dad. I wanted it to be quite close to the beginning so it didn’t get lost but then it couldn’t be anywhere else. It was made to be there.”
Like a fine wine, soul diva Mariah Carey matured into a classic vintage with the release of 2005’s *The Emancipation of Mimi*. The songs reflect a newfound intimacy and humor, while exploring gospel, hip-hop, and live band influences. The airy, then yearning vocals of “We Belong Together” are offset by the harmony-packed head-nodder “It’s Like That.” Meanwhile, blingtastic club bangers with Snoop Dogg and Pharrell Williams will start a party in your heart.
The Louisville slugger kicked off 2025 with January’s *I Ain’t Feeling You*, his star-studded second album with guest spots from Travis Scott, Lil Baby, and Veeze. Not six months later, Gee returns with a surprise third album, *My World*, whose unfussy song titles suggest a more spontaneous approach from the gravelly-voiced hustler who’s spent the six years since his 2019 debut mixtape *El Toro* ascending from the Kentucky hip-hop underground to the mainstream. He’s still balancing stone-cold street tales with a healthy dose of soul-searching. On “Take my time Geeski SH Feb 23,” Gee reflects on his trajectory as one of few rappers to make it out of his hometown. And an appearance from Yo Gotti on “PABLO FINAL GOTTI version” as the album’s only feature should implicitly quell the recent rumors of Gee’s supposed departure from the Memphis veteran’s CMG label.
Leon Thomas wears seemingly every hat there is: He sings, he writes songs, he acts, and he produces. Despite being spread thin in a million different directions, he manages to excel in all these fields. After years of dedicating his talent to acting and writing songs for other artists, he emerged in 2023 with his solo debut, *Electric Dusk*, via Ty Dolla $ign’s EZMNY imprint. A year later, he released its follow-up, *MUTT*, a convincing sign that Thomas is all in on this latest endeavor. *MUTT* finds Thomas showcasing his vocal prowess and lyrical talent alike, telling stories of love lost and betrayal, staggering his way through empty relationships as he looks for his soulmate. On “SAFE PLACE,” he sings over screeching guitars and the persistent beat of a ride cymbal bell, admitting, “I see the glass half empty.” On “FAR FETCHED,” which features his label boss, Thomas takes issue with a love interest who is more interested in handouts than a deep relationship. “Paid for my mistakes in Benzes and diamonds,” he fumes, before adding, “250 fronted like you was my artist.” Leon Thomas has conquered everything he’s set his mind to, and yet, on *MUTT*, love eludes him.
When she broke through in 2017 with her studio debut, *Wash & Set*, the New York rapper obscured her face behind a ski mask in videos and onstage, as she’d continue to do over the rest of her *Beauty Series* album trilogy (2018’s *Acrylic* and 2022’s *Shape Up*). But when she announced her fourth album with the video for lead single “450” in fall 2024, the once-mysterious Leikeli47 appeared unmasked for the first time, though rapping just as hard as ever: “Stay mad, I ain’t never letting up!” *Lei Keli ft. 47 / For Promotional Use Only*, her first independent release, marks a new chapter for the cult-favorite MC, who leaps from pulsing ballroom house (“soft serve”) to sleazy ’80s glam (“starlight”) to fantastical reggae (“sandhills”). It’s equal parts soul and swagger: On “queen,” Leikeli shouts out resilient women (“This one’s for the girls in the shelters/AKs and them Deltas/Cashiers at the Food Lion/All that matters is you tryin’/So keep it up, queen”), then peacocks over the stone-cold funk of “hnic,” ending her three-year hiatus with a warning: “The bitch is back!”
In the roughly two years since his Def Jam return *Fortune Favors the Bold*, Dave East opted to build as an independent with some choice collaborators. A good deal of this came as proper projects co-headlined by AraabMUZIK, Cruch Calhoun, and Scram Jones, among others. Arriving mere months after *The Final Call*, his joint album with Ransom, he links here in similar fashion with Roc-A-Fella Records alumnus Young Chris. Those who remember Philly duo Young Gunz and the adjacent State Property collective know how well Chris works with others, and *Fine Dining* demonstrates that he’s only gotten better at it with time. Most of the beats come from East’s go-to Triple A, who lays down rugged and soulful instrumentals like “Pablo & Gunner” and “Ain’t Adding Up” for the formidable pair to get their seasoned streetwise bars off. Their insular guest list reflects the respect they deservedly garner, with ElCamino coming through along with the aforementioned Calhoun and Ransom.
When trap entered the mainstream in the late 2000s, it was uniformly serious business; now it can sound as playful and dreamy as anything we call “indie” or “pop,” and we have producers like Pi’erre Bourne to thank. His rapping has gotten better, but his beats are still the draw, a buffet of video game blips and accordion riffs (“La Loi, C’est La Loi”), drums that rumble like toy tanks, and melodies as sweet and light as the breeze through his extremely expensive hotel curtains (“JBH”), more *Looney Tunes* than *Gangsta Grillz*. Even his sexual conquests are framed as fairy tales (“Rapunzel”). He’s having fun with it—and why not?
Who knows if hip-hop would’ve ever made it this far without Slick Rick? A style icon, rhyme maestro, and gifted storyteller, the London-born rapper/producer set the tone in the mid-’80s as Ricky D alongside Doug E. Fresh in The Get Fresh Crew. By the end of that decade, he’d transcended those auspicious beginnings with the full-length solo debut under his now best-known moniker, *The Great Adventures of Slick Rick*. In the more than three and a half decades since that album, a lot changed in the genre as well as in his personal and professional lives. Yet over all those years, even as his output slowed or stalled, respect for The Ruler never waned. For *VICTORY*, his first album since 1999’s *The Art of Storytelling*, a 60-year-old Rick doesn’t even try to play in the contentious spaces currently occupied by viral drill and trap stars. Instead, he’s back for the love of the rap game, choosing playful production to match his seasoned flow. Lest anyone need an introduction, “I Did That” runs through his résumé with ease before dipping into clubland for “Come On Let’s Go.” The unmistakeable spark of his narrative rap greatness flicks on once again for “Landlord,” a witty if scathing barrage of rent-due anecdotes timed for the first of the month, and “So You’re Having My Baby,” a jazzy chronicle that packs plenty in scarce little time. Even his guest selection, while highly limited, speaks to his own exquisite tastes rather than the marketplace, with Giggs popping in for “Stress” and Nas putting his stamp on “Documents.”
After 2018’s *Glory Sound Prep*, songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Jon Bellion stepped back from releasing music of his own. He still wrote and produced for other artists like Justin Bieber, Maroon 5, and Jonas Brothers, and headed up his label Beautiful Mind Records, which has released albums by the likes of Tori Kelly. He also became a dad—an experience, he tells Apple Music’s Zane Lowe, that sparked a realization. “You start to realize, ‘The father is wildly important in the home,’” he says. “You hear that, you believe that—and then you have children, and you’re like, ‘Oh, my God.’” Across *FATHER FIGURE*—Bellion’s first full-length in seven years—the Long Island-born pop alchemist comes to grips with fatherhood’s enormity while also appreciating the way that living life apart from the day-to-day artist grind has opened up his creativity. Now fully independent (*FATHER FIGURE* is his first album on his own label), Bellion is striking out in directions that, he feels, he wouldn’t have even found if he hadn’t gone on hiatus from performing. “My music has grown and matured in a way that would have never happened if I didn’t walk away from the artistry for a little bit,” he says. The massive task of nurturing young humans in a chaotic world hangs over the album, giving urgency to Bellion’s innovatively constructed, genre-fluid compositions. On the jittery “MODERN TIMES,” a reggae-tinged collaboration with jazz savant Jon Batiste, Bellion laments those who “got some money and lost \[their\] sense of mind.” The stripped-down “WHY,” a collaboration with Luke Combs, questions love’s existential purpose—“If the higher I fly is the further I fall/Then why love anything at all?” they wail on the chorus. The sinewy “RICH AND BROKE” brings the listener inside Bellion’s mind during an earthquake’s immediate aftermath. It combines breakbeats, sirens, and fractured choirs, creating a maelstrom that underscores what feels like the album’s statement of purpose: “Had a big chain ’round my neck/That I worked for my whole life/But the first thought was my kids.” While most of the album operates with what Bellion calls a “very gorilla energy of the masculine,” its last track, the luminous lullaby “MY BOY,” punctures that concept. “Fit inside these arms forever, ’cause the world’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he croons to the child he’s holding, and the racing thoughts he confesses to God expand on that: “I hate the weakness of showin’ my son what makes me sad,” he raps. But with that vulnerability, he notes, a stronger bond is formed: “He said a present father is worth way more than a perfect dad.” *FATHER FIGURE* wrestles with masculinity, fatherhood, and culture bravely and with gusto, with Bellion’s ever-evolving artistry and hunger for the truth fueling his desire to get even more real.
Death is at the forefront of AJ Tracey’s mind on his third studio album; the title, *Don’t Die Before You’re Dead*, makes that more than clear. And although success has granted the West London rapper a certain level of immortality, no one, not even Tracey—who has seen his career go from strength to strength since he put his home borough on the map with the 2019 hit single “Ladbroke Grove”—lives forever. “I’ve been through a lot of things since I dropped the second album,” he tells Apple Music’s Dotty. “Life is beautiful, but it’s also quite tough sometimes…We all go through it, but I come out the other side stronger and with a different perspective on life.” The reason for his preoccupation is laid out in “3rd Time Lucky,” which finds him sorting through his emotions as his mother recovers from cancer, over solemn chords reminiscent of Sting’s “Shape of My Heart.” The track is a rare moment of vulnerability on an album that often pulses with the desire for women, pleasure, and leisure, and an even rarer window into Tracey’s interior world—but the album title’s morbidly inverse framing of the message that life should be lived to its fullest is revealing. “Heavens beneath mum’s feet, for her whole life, she had the world on her shoulder,” he raps in the opening seconds of “3rd Time Lucky.” It’s an airtight bar, vacuum sealing an intense tangle of emotions inside another, grittier layer of meaning behind his sentiment: Hang on, even when you think it’s over. Don’t die before you’re dead. Despite the heaviness at the heart of the record, *Don’t Die Before You’re Dead* is an otherwise energetic offering that showcases the level of charisma on the mic that has made Tracey a festival favorite, his sharp enunciation and rhythmic flow often adding an extra percussive element to the production. “Crush” flips a sample from a classic Brandy ballad into a flirty back and forth with Jorja Smith, “Chat Rooms” thumps with the beat of jersey club drums. There’s a healthy dose of braggadocio in the recipe for tracks like “Second Nature” and “Paid in Full,” perfectly counterbalanced by tracks like “West Life,” with its winking references to ’90s girl groups or “Red Wine,” an indie-pop collaboration with Ivor Novello winner Master Peace which emerges as an unexpected highlight as it closes out the record. It makes for a well-rounded body of work, proving there’s no avenue Tracey isn’t prepared to explore, both artistically and emotionally, in his quest to make the most of his time on Earth. “I thought I need to give people what they need and not what they want, but sometimes they’re going to express to you like, ‘If you do this, maybe you’re going to tap into something,’” says Tracey. “Sometimes you’ve got to just go into that unknown, man.”
It has long been the case for Lil Wayne collaborators that the time they spend in the MC’s orbit can be some of the most inspired or fruitful of their careers. But imagine for a moment the perspective of someone like Mannie Fresh, accomplished DJ and producer, engine of the late-’90s/early-2000s Cash Money Records hit parade, and the man whose beats helped Wayne realize his potential as an MC. “I always start Wayne projects or songs like it’s my last day on earth,” Fresh tells Apple Music. “Because he is so important to rap, plus he is a real rap-rock star.” Their latest collaboration, Fresh’s *Lil Wayne: The Mix Before Tha VI*, is an Apple Music-exclusive DJ mix celebrating the impending arrival of Wayne’s *Carter VI* album. In true Mannie Fresh fashion, the set features a wealth of Wayne classics artfully arranged alongside the music that inspired some of those songs, spliced with a few curveballs Fresh threw in to keep even diehard Wayne stans engaged. “I try to listen to the records from a DJ point of view as well as a fan, \[because\] I want to make you feel good about new music,” he says. “I never, ever feel like \[I’m\] finished, because he always make me want to go harder every project.”
