Pitchfork's 20 Rap Albums of 2016

Rugged Atlanta rap gets a new dynamic duo on a murky, minimal EP that brings out the best in its precocious players. For producer Metro Boomin—in-demand architect of Drake and Future’s irrepressible “Jumpman”—it’s a chance to darken his palette with foreboding bells (“No Heart”) and muffled 808s (“Feel It”). And then there’s 21 Savage: dabbling with playful, raspy boasts (“Mad High”) while never losing the hard-edged authenticity of a true trap king.

On their final album, Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, Ali Shaheed Muhammad, and Jarobi rekindle a chemistry that endeared them to hip-hop fans worldwide. Filled with exploratory instrumental beds, creative samples, supple rhyming, and serious knock, it passes the headphone and car stereo test. “Kids…” is like a rap nerd’s fever dream, Andre 3000 and Q-Tip slaying bars. Phife—who passed away in March 2016—is the album’s scion, his roughneck style and biting humor shining through on “Black Spasmodic” and “Whateva Will Be.” “We the People” and “The Killing Season” (featuring Kanye West) show ATCQ’s ability to move minds as well as butts. *We got it from Here... Thank You 4 Your service* is not a wake or a comeback—it’s an extended visit with a long-missed friend, and a mic-dropping reminder of Tribe’s importance and influence.

On this, his first masterpiece, Chance evolves—from Rapper to pop visionary. Influenced by gospel music, *Coloring Book* finds the Chicago native moved by the Holy Spirit and the current state of his hometown. “I speak to God in public,” he says on “Blessings,” its radiant closer. “He think the new sh\*t jam / I think we mutual fans.”

More trauma and travails with the magnetic Detroit MC. Like *XXX* and *Old* before it, *Atrocity Exhibition* plays like a nightmare with punchlines, the diary of a hedonist who loves the night as much as he hates the morning after. “Upcoming heavy traffic/say ya need to slow down, ’cause you feel yourself crashing,” Brown raps on “Ain’t it Funny,” a feverish highlight. “Staring the devil in the face but ya can’t stop laughing.”

The Kendrick Lamar associate sprawls out on his poetic, contemplative second album. Making good on 2014’s enormously promising *Cilvia Demo*, *The Sun’s Tirade* echoes late-night ‘70s soul and its ‘90s counterparts (Erykah Badu, Outkast) rendered in booming, contemporary colors—a fitting backdrop for Rashad’s unsparing reflections on race (“BDay”), youth (“Free Lunch”), depression (“Dressed Like Rappers”), and ambition (“Park”).

Every element of Kendrick Lamar’s *untitled unmastered.* tells you something about the Compton MC’s provocative, multi-layered genius. Take the contrast of the collection\'s ultra-generic title and its attention-grabbing, out-of-left-field release. Take the retro-futuristic, Funkadelic-inspired grooves that simmer under tracks like “untitled 02” and “untitled 06.” These are only the beginning of the album\'s hypnotic, nuanced nod to hip-hop’s deep roots and unstoppable political and expressive currency. Songs like “untitled 03” and “untitled 05”—with layered references, wild-eyed jazz solos, and cutting insight—continue Lamar\'s winning streak.

The Baton Rouge rapper Kevin Gates has never been much for jokes. Earnest, unsparing, and intensely personal, his full-length major-label is a downcast trip through tales of the grind (“La Familia”) romantic woes (“Pride”), and the trials of balancing the two (“2 Phones”). He delivers it all with enough charm and hope to keep things from getting too dark or gritty. “Man in the mirror you way outta order,” he raps on “The Truth”—fitting words for an artist who named his album (and his daughter, for that matter) after an Arabic word meaning \"to improve.\"

At 19, this Pompano Beach native is already one of the best natural rappers of his generation. His effortless style pours from “Vibin in This Bih,” which echoes Juvenile’s flow, Gucci Mane’s wordplay, and Chance the Rapper’s conversational cadence. “Slayed” shows this teenager’s worries go well beyond his years, while Boosie—hip-hop’s ultimate survivor—makes a cameo as the living incarnation of stress and weary perseverance. His Southern pedigree really shows on “Can I,” “Today,” and “Gave All I Got,” a trifecta of bluesy country rap tunes that bear the scars and sensitivity of an authentic street experience.

Pusha T has one of the most ruthless—and most compelling—worldviews in modern rap. Featuring contributions from Kanye West (“M.P.A.”), Jill Scott (“Sunshine”), and Timbaland (the brilliant “Got Em Covered”), his lean second album is as tough as 2013’s *My Name is My Name*, crafting a world where villains become heroes, violence keeps the peace, and you might joke but you never—ever—laugh. “Leave your conscience at the door,” he suggests during the intro, and speeds off from there.

On the gritty, star-studded *Blank Face LP*, ScHoolboy Q is at his very best. Through 17 tracks of heavy-lidded gangsta rap, the incisive L.A. native joins forces with guests both legendary (E-40, Jadakiss, Tha Dogg Pound) and soon-to-be (Vince Staples, Anderson. Paak). “Robbin’ your kids too,” he says on “Groovy Tony / Eddie Kane,” a haunting double feature. “My heart a igloo.”

Brutally honest stories of L.A. street life fill the Compton rapper\'s second album. Like his commanding debut, *Still Brazy* brings together point-blank rhymes and vintage West Coast production. But when YG looks beyond the life-and-death drama of his neighborhood—taking aim at right-wing politics, police brutality, and racial division—his street-level honesty is every bit as biting.

Thugga’s agility and anguish come together in a high-impact performance for the ages. He’s always been lithe, but witness the rapper’s snakelike vocals slide through “Wyclef Jean” and “Swizz Beats,” both built on the subliminal rumbles of dub and dancehall. While he digs into “Future Swag” with wolfish gusto, his fractured croon finds home in the sore-hearted hedonism of “Riri.”