Rolling Stone's 40 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.

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.

On his globe-hopping solo debut, Calle 13 frontman Residente layers his dark and dense grooves with swirling Bollywood strings (\"Milo\"), eerie melodies plucked from Chinese opera (\"Una Leyenda China\"), distortion-soaked psych-rock riffs (\"La Sombra\"), and much more. Menacing and hypnotic, packed with both raw-to-the-core bangers and moments of haunting beauty, *Residente* often strays far beyond the borders of hip-hop. But the MC’s biting punchlines and politicized rhymes still pack the same sly punch as his Calle 13 classics.

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.

Quelle Chris fucks with himself. Most of the time. Honestly, it might depend on when and where you catch him. That’s to say that the Detroit representative is like the rest of us—surfing on waves of self-confidence, enduring periods of self-doubt, and searching for a sustainable balance. The primary difference between Quelle and us is that he’s supremely gifted at rapping and producing. He’s funnier too—in the way that the best comedians are deceptively complex and prone to bouts of melancholy. His new album, Being You is Great, I Wish I Could Be You More Often, is one of the most poignant, self-aware, and hilarious rap albums in recent memory. We should probably offer him some flowers, a case of expensive liquor, and cover the bill for the group therapy session. For the Mello Music Group release, Quelle assembled a veritable hip-hop Justice League: Roc Marciano, Homeboy Sandman, Denmark Vessey, Jean Grae, Elzhi, Cavalier, et. al. Then there’s the production, mostly handled by Quelle, but aided by crucial assists from MNDGSN, Iman Omari, Chris Keys, Swarvy, and Alchemist. Despite the preponderance of talent sharing the stage, the guests bend to the world that Quelle created. A darker shade of psychedelia, as if Madvillain gobbled anti-anxiety pills instead of psilocybin. Or maybe a fraternal drunken twin to Open Mike Eagle’s “Dark Comedy.” The title comes from a real-life discussion about the difficulties of consistency. How each of us are subject to both our own bad spirits and bursts of inspiration, those unavoidable Serotonin and dopamine peaks and valleys. Being You is Great is an attempt to catalog those moods. It’s about learning to love, or at least recognize, the best and worst of one’s self. It’s about loneliness and comfort. Learning to hate love and learning to love hate. Sequenced so that extreme confidence follows casual despair, the pendulum swings back and forth, mirroring our own emotions and validating something that Nietszche and Ray Bradbury once claimed: “we have art so we won’t die of truth.” If hip-hop is filled with everymen and superheroes, Quelle Chris has done something quietly radical. This record is almost too human—full of the sublte revelations that only come to you later in life, when you realize that heroes make plenty of errors, and anti-heroes often have merit. It’s not an exuberant celebration of human life, nor is it a politicized condemnation of what got us here. It’s a record with beats that will make you bob your head and tap your feet, and clever lyrics that will make you laugh and scrunch your face. But most of all, it’s a record with a tremendous reserve of empathy. Something that captures the wonder and madness of being human. Something relentlessly honest. Something great.

21 Savage, Migos\' Offset, and Metro Boomin have all worked tirelessly, if only occasionally together, to become some of hip-hop’s most in-demand collaborators. *Without Warning*, an album whose release lives up to its name, is a return to the MCs’ trap-music roots (after having achieved a fair bit of pop appeal). The whole of it is dark and dense with highlights like the admonitory “My Choppa Hates N\*ggas” and “Run Up the Racks,” a song whose muffled keyboard chimes cast an eerie pall over brags of ill-gotten income. The woozy Offset solo outing, “Ric Flair Drip,” is one of the few more jubilant moments.

By the time he was awarded a spot in XXL magazine’s 2017 “freshman class,” Aminé’s name had been mispronounced so regularly that he wore a shirt on the issue’s cover ridiculing the most common mistakes. For the record, it’s “Ah-MEE-nay,” and even after his breakout hit “Caroline” fades, we’re likely to be hearing it for some time. The Portland, Oregon, rapper’s debut beams with versatility, his styles ranging from dancehall toasting to modern R&B to cafeteria table bars. The guest list is likewise diverse, including Offset, Kehlani, and hip-hop’s own “uncle” Charlie Wilson, who appears numerous times.

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.

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.”

DC rapper GoldLink continues the forward momentum that turned heads on his 2015 mixtape *And After That, We Didn’t Talk*. *At What Cost* unspools like a film, transitioning seamlessly from late night to early morning. “Crew” pictures GoldLink stunting hard with Brent Faiyaz and Shy Glizzy. He can body a club track (“Meditation”) and shock listeners with a surprise ending. The fatalism that marked “When I Die” is back on “Pray Everyday (Survivor’s Guilt),” the realest song about self-medication since Kendrick Lamar’s “Swimming Pools.” *At What Cost* connects soul with noir, inward-facing narratives, chopped, off-kilter beats, and nocturnal moods.

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.\"

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.

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.

It feels right that Future’s first self-titled release allows his different personas to grab the mic: Depending on the track, he’s the party starter, the ladies\' man, the hustler, or the hedonist. *FUTURE* pays homage to the ATL rapper’s roots (and now-legendary string of underground mixtapes) with plenty of 808 boom, warped synths, and jittery rhymes. When his lyrics look back on the experiences that shaped him—especially with tracks like “Feds Did a Sweep” or “When I Was Broke”—it\'s a hypnotic glimpse into the mind of Atlanta’s trap king.

Dieuson Octave’s debut arrived while he was locked up for parole violation and its conflicting moods mirror his mixed fortunes. On haunting opener “Day for Day,” he surveys the streets that raised him, deciding, “I was already sentenced before I came up out the womb”. When “Patty Cake” rolls through on an earworm piano riff though, he’s triumphantly “sipping Belaire in Bel-Air”. Throughout, efficient production places his melodic flow center-stage and his striking descriptions of struggle and success cement him as one of rap’s most exciting new voices.

Named for the tattoo that sits between his eyes (“It’s a knife”), 21 Savage’s debut studio album glistens with sinister flows and explicit reveals. *Issa Album* dives deep into the trap side, documenting his come-up, the spoils, temptations, irritations, and self-medication. “Dead People” and “Close My Eyes” paint grimy pictures and rank as some of 21\'s most viscerally affective tracks yet (“I see dead bodies when I close my eyes” goes the hook in the latter). Tempered production by Pierre Bourne, Wheezy, Southside, DJ Mustard, and Metro Boomin allow the ATL rapper the full stage, closing out with a 7-minute freestyle.

*#SantanaWorld* is Tay-K’s first mixtape, and there’s a chance it will also be his last: In July of 2019, the Texas teenager was sentenced to 55 years in prison for charges related to a 2016 home invasion that left a man dead. His 2017 breakout hit “The Race” tells the all-too-real story of his months on the run after cutting off his ankle bracelet while on house arrest; he was captured in New Jersey the same day he released the music video. Though the rapper only pled guilty to robbery charges and claims to have not been armed, cries of “Free Tay-K” are probably misdirected. But the handful of songs on *#SantanaWorld* are admittedly solid, if not for the faint of heart, like if “Folsom Prison Blues” was channeled through the nihilist lens of Chicago drill and, er, wasn’t fictional.

Straight outta Sacramento, Mozzy adds to his street-hero status and critical acclaim. *1 Up Top Ahk* (slang for loading a rifle) unfolds with a self-awareness rarely seen in gangsta rap. As beats lurch in the background, Mozzy unfurls PTSD scenarios and hyper-detailed rhymes, like “My future was never for certain/We had to use dish liquid for detergent” on “Afraid.” Tracks like “Fall Off” and “Mandated” are at once mournful, lyrically rich, and simmering with stress, cementing a case that Mozzy’s among the realest rappers in the game.

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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.”

Few things have moved Kanye West to action like the blowback he received upon removing Vic Mensa from 2015 *Pablo* standout “Wolves.” They’d premiered it (alongside Sia) during an SNL performance, an introduction to Mensa that many apparently cherished. Kanye would bring Mensa back via another edit, but it would take his guest’s debut album for the world to really know who he is. The Autobiography covers Mensa’s upbringing in Chicago’s violent South Side (“Memories on 47th St.”), his struggles with drug use and infidelity (“Wings”), and his most pronounced legacy to date, Mensa’s Black Lives Matter activism (“We Could Be Free”). The alt-rock-tinged “Rage”—which Mensa once claimed was a favorite of Beyoncé\'s—and “Omg (feat. Pusha T)” appear as bonus tracks.

He had a bumpy few years, between the Drake feud, the death of compatriots, and his breakup with Nicki Minaj, but Philadelphia firebrand Meek Mill sounds as determined as ever, rapping in his signature panicked blare, as if he’s just sprinted miles to the booth. *Wins & Losses* mixes dark, gothic beats and punchy, blurting collaborations with younger voices, like Lil Uzi Vert (“F\*\*k That Check Up”) or an emotional Young Thug on the weepy “We Ball.”

Wiz Khalifa and Lil Yachty guest on the Southern rapper\'s mixtape.

The Atlantan producer repeatedly reinvents trap on an album decorated with premium MCs. Enriching the snare-and-bass template with vivid atmosphere and detail, he offsets his guests’ braggadocio against varying moods, flipping confidently from the dazing vapors of all-star posse cut “Perfect Pint” to the needles-in-the-red urgency of the Future-featuring “Razzle Dazzle.” On “Hasselhoff,” he even pits Lil Yachty’s sexual bravado against beats and bass that detonate like field recordings from a war zone.

Ransom 2 is the debut studio album by hip hop producer Mike Will Made It. It is the sequel to his 2014 mixtape and was released on March 24, 2017. The album features collaborations with Kendrick Lamar, Rae Sremmurd, Big Sean, Lil Wayne, YG, Pharrell Williams, 2 Chainz, Young Thug, and Chief Keef among many others. The Atlantan producer repeatedly reinvents trap on an album decorated with premium MCs. Enriching the snare-and-bass template with vivid atmosphere and detail, he offsets his guests’ braggadocio against varying moods, flipping confidently from the dazing vapors of all-star posse cut “Perfect Pint” to the needles-in-the-red urgency of the Future-featuring “Razzle Dazzle.” On “Hasselhoff,” he even pits Lil Yachty’s sexual bravado against beats and bass that detonate like field recordings from a war zone.