Pitchfork's 20 Best Rap 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.”

Released within two weeks of his 2017 self-titled project, *HNDRXX* is a master statement of soulful, sly R&B from the Atlanta rapper. If *FUTURE* echoed the spontaneity and double-time flow of his now-classic mixtapes, the follow-up is stacked with anthems that are calibrated for a massive mainstream audience. Two marquee cameos—The Weeknd and Rihanna—add extra star power, but highlights like “Damage,” “Incredible,” and “Fresh Air” are all about Future’s brilliant mix of brutal honestly and unchecked hedonism.

Playboi Carti arrived at a time when mumble rap was boosting hip-hop’s bottom line, making it a ubiquitous but captivating innovation in music. On later releases like 2018’s *Die Lit*, Carti would tip a hat to his humble beginnings, priding himself on his ability to build wealth and buy his mom a house “off that mumbling s\*\*t.” This self-titled 2017 mixtape was the beginning of Carti laying that very foundation. Born Jordan Terrell Carter in Atlanta in 1996, the rapper and singer takes a wide-eyed, unconstrained approach to creating—not unlike the stylistic technique he employed with his breakthrough 2015 single, “Broke Boi.” After Carti sprinkled a smattering of official and unofficial songs across the internet in the mid-2010s, his star power grew exponentially, thanks to fans who couldn’t get enough of his creative appeal. *Playboi Carti* is propelled by Carti’s sheer charisma and trend-setting persona. The artist, known globally for his unique fashion sense and an affinity for all things divergent, uses this radical mixtape as a launchpad for his brand of unconventional self-expression. The project is buoyed by repetitive chants and earworm phrases that stretch themselves into trance-inducing anthems and mantras, custom made for a new generation of ragers and moshers. “Magnolia,” the smash single produced by frequent collaborator Pi’erre Bourne, was Carti’s moment of arrival in the mainstream, thanks in large part to his breezy rapping style. Playboi Carti’s songs, lyrics, and ad libs have embedded themselves into the broader pop culture landscape, but don’t get confused: On “Half & Half,” he lets it be known that “This is not pop, this some rock.” Equally inspired by the unapologetic air of hip-hop and the irreverent attitude of rock ’n’ roll, he dedicates *Playboi Carti* to the merging of the two influential genres. The punk-inflected hit “Wokeuplikethis\*” featuring Lil Uzi Vert shows the MCs directly addressing copycats and simultaneously flexing in their imitators’ faces. Lyrical minimalism is the ace up Playboi Carti’s sleeve, and he strategically plays his cards to bring us into his complex sonic universe.

Lil B goes back to the ‘80s on this 27-track album full of retro West Coast electro-funk grooves. The thumping drums of “Bad Mf” hark back to L.A.’s World Class Wreckin’ Cru, and the throwback minimalist beat of “Hip Hop” provides the bedrock for a wistful ode to a bygone era of rap. But those well-chosen references never overshadow The BasedGod’s distinctive style, with cuts like the swaggering, squelchy “Go Senorita Go” colored by his trademark wacky humor.

With the first song of his 2014 masterpiece, Dark Comedy, Open Mike Eagle reintroduced himself by defining his style: “I’m bad at sarcasm so I work in absurdity.” On that album, Mike deconstructed our overstimulated and over-surveilled society with ease and caustic wit. But what do you do when the world warps and bends into a shape so absurd that it can no longer be exaggerated? Brick Body Kids Still Daydream is a searingly political record for systolic political times. It chronicles the life cycle of the Robert Taylor Homes, a housing project on the South side of Chicago that was demolished completely ten years ago. Families that had lived under the same roof for three generations were forced to scatter, condemned by bureaucrats and faceless cranes and public indifference. Mike Eagle brings the Robert Taylor Homes back to life--literally, with arms and eyes and a head like the dome of a stadium--and fights until the last brick is made to crumble. As always, Mike slips in and out of various grey areas; on the opener “legendary iron hood,” he raps, “you think it's all good, but it's really a gradient.” The nostalgia (“95 radios”) is a little bit painful, the triumph (“hymnal”) comes through painstaking, incremental work. Everything needs to be earned, even the radio signals that are picked up through tinfoil wrapped on children's hands. The thesis becomes fully formed on “brick body complex,” where the hook is a towering statement of identity: “Don't call me ‘nigga,’ or ‘rapper,’ my motherfucking name is Michael Eagle.” But this is not a departure from the man-as-building conceit--the flesh and blood and brick and mortar are inextricable. In case there was any ambiguity about the political and cultural forces that lead to the Robert Taylor Homes’ eventual destruction, Brick Body Kids Still Daydream ends with perhaps the most powerful song of Mike Eagle’s catalog to date. “my auntie’s building” is a tour de force. “They say America fights fair,” he raps. “But they won't demolish your timeshare.” This is the point: the decay and eventual destruction of public housing--and of the physical lives of Black Americans generally--has been normalized in a way that should be grotesquely absurd. “They blew up my auntie’s building / Put out her great-grandchildren / Who else in America deserves to have that feeling? / Where else in America will they blow up your village?” Production comes courtesy of Exile, Toy Light, Andrew Broder, Illingsworth, DJ Nobody, Kenny Segal, Caleb Stone, Lo-Phi, Elos, and Has-Lo, who produces and guests on “95 radios.” “hymnal” also features a superb turn from Sammus, who maintains the same rhyme scheme throughout her defiant verse. As grave as the album’s stakes are, it's still anchored by Mike Eagle’s irrepressible sense of humor. (His live comedy show, The New Negroes, is upcoming via Comedy Central.) “no selling” is a hilarious take on practiced indifference, and “TLDR” bridges the economic gap with withering wit: “If you was rich and ‘bout to be broke, I can coach you / ‘Cause I can show you how to kill a roach with a boat shoe.” Eagle has earned rave reviews in Pitchfork, the LA Weekly, and wherever brilliant, avant-garde rap is appreciated. Brick Body Kids Still Daydream is his most overtly political work to date, and puts to use all the dazzling technical skills he's perfected over more than a decade at the forefront of rap’s underground. In chaotic and increasingly fractured times, it has a few crucial things to bring to your attention.

A vertiginous, gone-viral stage dive at 2017’s Rolling Loud Festival upheld Uzi’s claims to being a “rock star.” On *Luv Is Rage 2*, he engages one of rock’s other key tropes: peering into the abyss. With his sharply melodic flow, he makes plenty of allusions to his success, comparing his diamonds to Pharrell’s over the video-game bleeps of “For Real” before trading triumphant verses with the man himself on “Neon Guts.” However, he also peels back some layers of an unsettled soul, confronting the pain of a broken relationship on “Feelings Mutual” and “XO TOUR Llif 3.”

much love to my family, yall great. be great.

2 Chainz is a hit maker, but *Pretty Girls Like Trap Music* shows there are deeper ambitions afoot. His production arm is strong—Mike WiLL Made-It, Murda Beatz, and Mike Dean all put in work. He speaks his mind, dissing the government and “mumble-rap” while Nicki Minaj references her Remy Ma beef on “Realize.” Pharrell leaves his platinum imprint on “Bailan.” Then 2 Chainz puts his life story out there on the revelatory “Burglar Bars”—the realest song he’s ever cut.

who told you to think??!!?!?!?! is about boundaries and permissions. the artist creating their own license to ill. what it means to answer a call that never comes. the process of flaw turned idiosyncrasy turned style. that old transmutation spell, the happening as one perfects tricks and in turn masters magic. to set the elenchus upon itself, to begin a poet and end a rapper agency that is what makes the rapper an exceptional artist, beyond a poet. in years gone rappers once focused on getting Free who told you to think??!!?!?!?! is a return to form. -RF

After years of strong guest features and acclaimed mixtapes, North Carolina MC Rapsody comes into her own with her ambitious second LP, *Laila\'s Wisdom*. Backed by a slew of vintage samples and soulful live instrumentation, Rapsody flaunts unhurried flow, consummate storytelling skills, and a knack for memorable choruses on songs like \"Pay Up,\" revealing her frustration with deadbeat dudes over slinky electric guitar and the swirling \'70s funk of \"Sassy.\" Longtime compatriot Anderson .Paak delivers the hook on the languid \"Nobody,\" and Kendrick Lamar, Rapsody\'s original cosigner, elevates the woozy, psychedelic \"Power.\"