Borderline-irreverent tales of coke trade, consumption, and anxiety with the Neptunes' hottest/weirdest beats in ages.
Boots Riley, Cali's smoothest MC next to Snoop, takes the limp defeatism out of leftist resistance; his bop gun weighs a ton.
The warble-voiced Bay vet spreads hyphy nationwide and slings hooks for days like Kareem in stunna goggles.
Reimagining the '80s crack explosion as '70s R&B noir, with Atlantis hallucinations and sass-mouth kids filling in the picture.
A producer's own eulogy, a life in samples flashing before his ears.
OutKast protege lives up to his Dirty South Ice Cube potential on this indie-released sophomore record—a double CD, and justifiably so.
Punk-rock rap, if not quite the way the Cold Crush Brothers pictured it—angry, funny, and fierce.
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Smart like Phrenology but without the ponderous bits; bangs like The Tipping Point but without the compromise. -NATE PATRIN