The cover of Jessie Reyez’s third album features a questionnaire she answered as an eighth grader, and in a section titled favorite hobbies, she writes, “Rapping/singing/dancing.” In a sense, *PAID IN MEMORIES* makes good on those interests. She recruits hip-hop icons like Lil Wayne and Big Sean, alongside peers such as Lil Yachty, to help formulate some of these rap-leaning ideas. Despite the prevalence of these moments, though, she still offers up plenty of alt-pop songs for fans of her first two efforts: 2020’s *BEFORE LOVE CAME TO KILLS US* and 2022’s *YESSIE*. “PSILOCYBIN & DAISIES” flips the guitar riff from The Smashing Pumpkins’ “1979” and turns it into a hard-charging pop cut. Elsewhere, she displays her versatility with the downtempo neo-soul of “TORONTO SHORDIE” and the reggaetón-inspired groove of “PALO SANTO,” creating an album that pays tribute to all her passions.
Florida rapper Nardo Wick was still at the tail end of his teens when *Who Is Nardo Wick?* dropped in 2021. Its songs shared his stark vision of the streets in such a way that artists older than him could’ve learned a thing or two from his pen. A little over three years later, his sophomore full-length, *WICK*, goes deeper into the darkness, with booming beats that recall drill and trap at their most austere ends. The chilling monologue of “Gangsta” sets the mood early on, his bars veering between direct threats and tweaked references. In his signature snarl, even the Hamburger Helper punchline on “Ain’t No Lettin’ Up” feels intimidating. No small feat, he transforms menace into macabre turn-up tracks with “I Don’t Think” and “Get on My Nerves.” Though the production dwells largely on the dour side, he switches things up on occasion, revealing a sense of humor for “Beatbox” and flirting in the glow of ATL Jacob’s subtle throwback funk on “A Lil Different.” While the vast majority of *WICK*’s tracks solely center him, the handful with guests tend toward those who were there for his debut. A clear influence on his forbidding style, 21 Savage flexes amid sexual conquests on “HBK,” a lifestyle the younger artist has evidently grown accustomed to as well. Future and Southside raise the tempo and the stakes alike for the disorienting “Back to Back,” while Lil Baby helps Wick relive an era of Southern rap that neither was previously old enough to fully appreciate on “Hot Boy.”
When you have a voice as pure as Cleo Sol’s, you can sing about nearly anything and have it sound otherworldly. Sol, however, doesn’t take lightly the responsibility of her instrument, treating each opportunity—both in and outside of her role as lead vocalist for Sault—as an opportunity to spread joy, foster hope, and offer up praise to the most high. Sault’s mission across *10*—actually their 12th full-length project—lies squarely inside those ramparts, with Sol working alongside the group’s production engine, Inflo, alongside a slew of other collaborators (dancehall singjay Chronixx, legendary bassist Pino Palladino, rising pianist NIJE) to offer a balm for increasingly trying times. The titles alone—“The Healing,” “Know That You Will Survive,” “We Are Living”—telegraph their psalmic intention. So does Sol’s voice, which sails over Ohio funk in “Power,” recalls the radiance of disco queen Donna Summer on “Real Love,” and anchors uptempo jazz on “The Sound of Healing,” breathing life into relentless optimism. Sault has been nothing if not celebrated over the course of their elusive career, but that adulation notwithstanding, *10* reminds us there’s still hope for us all.
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.
Fully back on his independent grind, Detroit mainstay Icewear Vezzo continues to flourish and succeed on his own merits. In a crowded scene of Michigan rap contenders, his name stays in the upper echelon off the strength of his work. The EP-length *UNDEFEATED* exemplifies his ethos, with a foundation in unapologetic street talk and backed with trunk-rattling productions. Nodding back to his Green Guyz days as well as to a certain Lil Yachty single, “MINNESOTA” hits like a brick with its purp-skewed trap-house chronicles. Buoyed by a beat sampling a romantic ’80s electro-funk gem, “GOOD TO ME” flips the narrative to break down what he’s looking for in a baddie, citing loyalty above nearly all else. Naturally, he gives the project’s handful of guest spots to homegrown stars, with both Big Sean and Skilla Baby flawlessly flexing over “WORTH SOMETHING” and GT bringing his A-game to “RICHER THEN I EVER BEEN.”
“First Day Out” may have thrust Tee Grizzley into breakout rap stardom, but his subsequent eight years of work and dedication have kept him in the conversation. A key and respected part of the contemporary Detroit hip-hop vanguard with some commercial hits under his belt, he brings both confidence and gravity to *Forever My Moment*. As the opening title track shifts from him spitting raw and a cappella to going in on a bone-chilling Helluva beat, he begins reflecting on how fresh money changed his situation and relationships. This lay-of-the-land purview pervades much of the project’s runtime, with Grizzley shaking his head at both the state of the game and its players on “Jalen Hurtski” and “Rick Jameski.” On the provocatively titled (though in no way political) “They Shot at Trump,” he cautions bros and opps alike that anybody can get touched in these streets. Should anyone unaware question Grizzley’s credibility, real moments like “Stash-house in Dearborn” and “Robbery 9” will quell any and all dissent.
Buffalo producer ILL Tone Beats was never much for a producer tag. And it’s not because his sample-heavy beats are so immediately identifiable like those of, say, a Timbaland or Swizz Beatz. But the company Tone most frequently keeps—the MCs of Griselda Records and the Black Soprano Family collective—happen to have a way of announcing themselves in the space one might normally reserve for a producer tag (Cue Westside Gunn’s “Boom-Boom Boom-Boom!”). Making a name for himself is hardly ILL Tone’s concern, though. He’s already an integral part of one of rap’s most inventive and exciting movements. He reaffirm this position across *The Outcome*, a project that features the very best of MCs like Benny the Butcher, Conway the Machine, Elcamino, Rome Streetz, and Flee Lord. Those are, of course, hometown heroes, but he’s also got an AZ verse and an interlude with Ghostface Killah talking crazy. So the people who actually need to know who ILL Tone is already do: They’re the ones he’s been making neoclassical hip-hop with for years now.
In the three-and-a-half decades since roaring like a self-described “dungeon dragon” on A Tribe Called Quest’s “Scenario,” Busta Rhymes has often slipped into the serpentine. Following in the tradition of his zodiac-inspired *Year of the Dragon* and the collaborative Q-Tip mixtape *The Abstract and The Dragon*, this EP offers a preview of his promised return to fire-breathing form. Beginning with the ferociously boastful intro “Letter to My Children,” he proceeds to ensure that everything remains raw. No matter what kind of beat enters his lair, he wields seemingly supernatural rap powers over the music, from the positively funky single “Do the Busabus Pt.2” to the stop-start clamor of “Keep Executing.” The oft explicit nature of his lyrics only serves to strengthen his arguments, adding heft to the gospel-tinged boom-bap take “National Treasure.” The sole vocal guest here, emerging singer YG Marley, honors his own legacy with Jah praise over the reggae-pop grooves of “Treasure & Gold.”
Two decades into his career, Jim Jones finds himself exactly where he expected to be. Back up to 2004, when Jones was riding high as a member of Cam’ron’s Dipset crew, the Bronx MC unleashed his solo debut, *On My Way to Church*. On his eighth solo album, 2025’s *At the Church Steps*, he’s finally arrived. Sure, enough time has passed between the two records to raise a human from birth to legal drinking age, but Jones sounds in vintage form. The line from his debut to its spiritual sequel is nearly straight: On opener “Jomo” he travels on back to mid-2000s Harlem, where The Diplomats made their name, cueing up a soul-heavy vocal chop courtesy of Statik Selektah. It’s a beat that would have sounded nice on *Diplomatic Immunity* from 2003. On the cut and throughout the album, he’s contemplative, celebratory, and mournful in equal doses. On that opener, he raps, “I done put so much work in, I could have died on the job.” Despite it all, the blessings remain bountiful for one of New York’s perennial rap figures.
New York may currently be dominated by any number of sexy drillers, but a real and abiding love for rap’s prior native iterations runs citywide. Listening to Lord Sko, a young MC eagerly updating a classic sound, one can’t help but hear how his *PIFF* could reverberate well beyond the five boroughs. With material support and on-record co-signs by the likes of Statik Selektah, he tackles topics and themes as integral to his home’s hip-hop traditions as any, from sporting Polo and smoking blunts to chatting up shorties and betting on the Knicks. Lest anyone think this is some purely nostalgic play, Sko’s lexicon goes considerably beyond what the boom-bap glory days contained. Over beats by the highly contemporary likes of Tony Seltzer, Mike Shabb, and Wino Willy, he sounds like the underground that nurtures him, shouting out local spots like The Astor Club on the woozy “Problem Child” and casually flexing over the dreamlike vibes of “Robinhood.” This explains how he can move in the same rooms as Conway the Machine and Grand Puba on “Camel Eyes” and “Girbaud Talk,” respectively.
