{"id":1255949,"date":"2016-12-05T06:00:00","date_gmt":"2016-12-05T03:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/?p=1255949"},"modified":"2016-12-05T06:00:00","modified_gmt":"2016-12-05T03:00:00","slug":"the-20-best-rap-albums-of-2016","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/?p=1255949","title":{"rendered":"The 20 Best Rap Albums of 2016"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
Lists & Guides<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The 20 Best Rap Albums of 2016<\/h1>\n
<\/div>\n
\n
Danny Brown, Skepta, Kamaiyah and the other rappers who made this year great<\/div>\n
\n
\n
By <\/span>Pitchfork<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

\n
\n
<\/p>\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/header>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
\n

From the bleak and pitiless nihilism of 21 Savage, Skepta, and Danny Brown to the exuberance of Kamaiyah and Chance; from the gnomic, inward musings of Ka and Kendrick to the rough, open-book humanity of Joey Purp: In 2016, rap albums splintered into a million different and thrilling forms, overflowing the edges of mundane details like normal release dates (hello, Kanye) and heteronormativity (hi, Thug!). If you haven’t been glued to Hot 97 or Livemixtapes.com, here, in alphabetical order, are 20 of the most urgent, most partying, most excellent albums to come out of hip-hop this year. No shade to Macklemore.<\/p>\n

\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n
\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/figure>\n

<\/p>\n

Metro Boomin \/ 21 Savage<\/div>\n

Savage Mode<\/h2>\n
Slaughter Gang<\/div>\n

If Young Metro doesn\u2019t trust you, the saying goes,\u00a0Future will shoot you. Using only that logic, 21 Savage is Metro Boomin\u2019s perfect companion, because he trusts absolutely no one.\u00a0Savage Mode<\/em> is the rapper\u2019s show; even Metro\u2019s beats don\u2019t get in the way, slowly trickling beneath the young Atlanta rapper\u2019s menacingly quiet voice. Everything is grim and intense on *Savage Mode\u2014*like when he threatens to \u201cPull up on you, tie your kids up\u201d on \u201cNo Heart\u201d\u2014showing that 21 may be the heir to\u00a0Chief Keef\u2019s hip-hop-nihilist throne. *\u2013*Matthew Strauss<\/p>\n

21 Savage: \u201cOcean Drive\u201d (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

<\/p>\n

Kodak Black<\/div>\n

Lil B.I.G. Pac<\/h2>\n
Dollaz N Dealz<\/div>\n

As if on cue, just as Gucci Mane was released from prison, his new Florida progeny, Kodak Black, was arrested on a handful of charges, including robbery. Black often evokes Gucci in tone, doling out street wisdom through a sticky Southern drawl, but the trait they seem to share most is an inability to avoid trouble. Black released Lil B.I.G. Pac<\/em> on his birthday while behind bars, and it\u2019s his best work yet, a thoughtful consideration of his life as a teenage gangster. He\u2019s one of rap\u2019s most impressive young writers\u2014unusually observant, reflective, and prognostic in the same breath\u2014and his punches come in quick succession. His approach on the mixtape is best articulated by Gucci Mane on their collaboration, \u201cVibin in This Bih\u201d: \u201cLock me in a box, but I\u2019m coming out swinging.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lil B.I.G. Pac<\/em> is a more concise, well-rounded outing than previous efforts, and it\u2019s also Black\u2019s most complete mixtape to date. It mixes stunt anthems with moving tributes to loved ones on the outside, finding balance somewhere in the middle. The tape is a showcase for the rangy set of tools at his disposal: introspective writing, tough experience, dense word jumbles, heavy emotional impact. As he himself puts it more plainly: \u201cVerbally, mentally, and physically, I keep the heat.\u201d \u2013Sheldon Pearce<\/p>\n

Kodak Black: \u201cVibin in This Bih\u201d [ft. Gucci Mane] (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Danny Brown<\/div>\n

Atrocity Exhibition<\/h2>\n
Warp<\/div>\n

Danny Brown is both the greatest old-school rapper and the most avant-garde artist in hip-hop. Atrocity Exhibition<\/em>\u2019s four-track stretch from \u201cLost\u201d through \u201cWhite Lines\u201d is about as traditional as rap gets\u2014stuffed with constant similes and marvelously wordy drug descriptions\u2014but it\u2019s backed by unmatched production that other rappers would not dare touch, full of obscure samples and near-impossible tempos. Brown executes this perfectly; Atrocity Exhibition<\/em> is, in some ways, a continuation of XXX<\/em>\u2019s \u201cdownward spiral,\u201d just twisted up even more. \u2013Matthew Strauss<\/p>\n

Danny Brown: “Really Doe” (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Chance the Rapper<\/div>\n

Coloring Book<\/h2>\n

Chance the Rapper\u2019s joyful yelp of a mixtape, Coloring Book**,<\/em> was the panacea we needed all year, a balm to seething societal unrest; it shimmered with the delicacy of a music box and roared with the mightiness of a full gospel choir. No one in 2016 threw a more joyous or life-affirming party of an album, with so many disparate guests sounding like the best versions of themselves: Justin Bieber was here, sounding relaxed and effortless and natural and human, four entirely foreign sensations to Bieber\u2019s music, on the luxuriously sexy \u201cJuke Jam.\u201d Future, deep in his dead-souled zombie phase, sounded cuddly<\/em> on \u201cSmoke Break.\u201d Regina \u00a0Spektor turned into a Broadway belter on an\u00a0axed\u00a0version of \u201cSame Drugs,\u201d and Jeremih turned into Bon Iver on \u201cSummer Friends.\u201d Chance was the ringleader at the center of it all, inspiring himself and others to reach higher. \u201cAre you ready for your miracle?\u201d went\u00a0the chorus to \u201cBlessings,\u201d while Chance, cresting, promised\u00a0ridiculous, impossible things: \u201cI speak of wondrous unfamiliar lessons from childhood\/Make you remember how to smile good.\u201d Somehow, he delivered\u00a0all of it. \u2013Jayson Greene<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

<\/p>\n

Kevin Gates<\/div>\n

Islah<\/h2>\n
Atlantic \/ Bread Winners’ Association<\/div>\n

Kevin Gates has never shied away from being genuine, even when that means revealing the ugliest things about himself\u2014like when he explained battery charges for kicking a female fan at a show. Among his many strengths as a rapper are his abilities to cut through with blunt talk and to be many things at once, not all of them good: hard and soft, thoughtful and careless, sympathetic and despicable, fatherly and abusive. He\u2019s always been, in spells, an intricate writer, a dynamic performer, and a skilled hookman, with a gravelly voice that somehow lends itself well to all three. But he finds a near-perfect balance on Islah<\/em>, a somewhat surprising major-label rap hit that is as consistently fragile as it is thorny. He comes off as both emotional and heartless, moving relentlessly through war stories and love stories at the same pace, and often blurring their margins. He\u2019s a gangsta rapper, sure, but he\u2019s also got the chops to cover Blink-182. It\u2019s a technical marvel, an emotional spectacle, and an infectious jammer all in one. \u2013Sheldon Pearce<\/p>\n

Kevin Gates: “2 Phones” (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Ka<\/div>\n

Honor Killed the Samurai<\/h2>\n
Iron Works<\/div>\n

\u201cWatch me blueprint rec centers,\u201d Brownsville\u2019s Ka mutters on a song just called \u201c$,\u201d from Honor Killed the Samurai<\/em>. This is the soul of the prematurely wise rapper\u2019s work. Let Rick Ross build \u201ca dream with elevators in it,\u201d let Kanye fly a jet over personal debt; Ka\u2019s dreams are community-sized and grassroots. His hushed, pained devotional music\u2014made of tiny loops and his mutter\u2014has evolved over the years by shrinking at the corners and drawing in on itself. On Honor Killed the Samurai,<\/em> his Wu-Tang-inspired midnight music came to a fine point, like the graphite tip of a pencil touching pad. For any rap fans who still believe the pen is the sword, Ka is one of the last samurai alive. \u2013Jayson Greene<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

<\/p>\n

Kamaiyah<\/div>\n

A Good Night in the Ghetto<\/h2>\n
self-released<\/div>\n

Kamaiyah\u2019s A Good Night in the Ghetto<\/em>\u00a0crescendos on her buoyant, singsongy phrasings, which are imbued with all the animation of drunken, carefree nights riding across town, dreaming of Beamers with friends. It\u2019s a feel-good mixtape about being young and having fun, about West Coast nightlife as escapism\u2014from violence, pettiness, poverty, and the natural chaos of existence. It finds a median between idealism and realism.<\/p>\n

Kamaiyah fantasized about wealth and its feel on her breakout single, \u201cHow Does It Feel,\u201d before relishing her come-up on mixtape cuts like \u201cI\u2019m On.\u201d Many of the tracks on A Good Night in the Ghetto<\/em>, as its title implies, settle somewhere between the two, longing for more but savoring the present. It\u2019s nearly impossible to not root for her, to not celebrate her success with her, as she performs with such gusto, enjoying her newfound fame and her longheld friendships. But she\u2019s clear-eyed, understanding that eventually, the buzz wears off and no amount of money or Hennessy can bring back lost loved ones. \u201cI can\u2019t give a fuck about these millions\/And I will give it up to see him live on,\u201d she raps, remembering her late partners-in-crime Cocaine James, who died of cancer in April, and Fred. She balances the breezy with the heartfelt, navigating the complexities of life in Oakland; drinking out the bottle, and pouring some out, too. \u2013Sheldon Pearce<\/p>\n

Kamaiyah: “How Does It Feel” (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Kendrick Lamar<\/div>\n

untitled unmastered.<\/h2>\n
Top Dawg Entertainment<\/div>\n

In two TV performances that bookended the release of his opus, To Pimp a Butterfly<\/em>\u2014the first as the final performer on \u201cThe Colbert Report*,\u201d* the second on \u201cThe Tonight Show\u201d\u2014Kendrick Lamar expanded the scope of his vision. The two untitled compositions\u2014both hookless jazz-rap epics with lush instrumental flourishes and improvised-for-TV breakdowns\u2014were clear companion pieces to his masterwork, but they were even more raw somehow, stripped bare of pretext and completely nerve-striking. On Colbert<\/em>, as he shouted, \u201cTell \u2018em we don\u2019t die, we multiply,\u201d Michael\u00a0Brown and the magic of black resilience came to mind. Months later, when he roared, \u201cYou ain\u2019t gotta tell me that I\u2019m the one,\u201d his supremacy was a forgone conclusion.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

These performances weren\u2019t supposed to be properly released, but their energies seemed to required it. They felt like necessary texts. By popular demand, Top Dawg Entertainment put out\u00a0untitled unmastered<\/em>, a compilation of outtakes from the TPAB<\/em> sessions. The assortment of tracks are rough drafts, but the ideas are all clearly articulated, in whiplash-inducing raps and soulful odysseys. You can hear the tinkering, the outtakes informing and enriching TPAB<\/em>\u2019s final product, but they exist on their own, too, with individual bold arcs and proclamations. Apparently, even Lamar\u2019s B-sides are essential. \u2013Sheldon Pearce<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Noname<\/div>\n

Telefone<\/h2>\n
self-released<\/div>\n

Noname is a poet first and a rapper second, a distinction you can feel everywhere on her profoundly intimate Telefone<\/em>. Her voice is low and conversational, and her lyrics\u00a0are full of rich, tactile images: \u201cI used to have a name that look like butterflies and Hennessy\/I\u2019ll trade it up for happiness but joyful don\u2019t remember me,\u201d she says on \u201cSunny Duet.\u201d The way her phrases\u00a0skip across the surface of the light, breezy music shows someone who honed their skills at open mics and spoken-word\u00a0nights, then saw a way to refract that luminous vision into music. Telefone<\/em> is a healing and heartbreaking album, but above all it is gentle<\/em>, full of soft chimes and cooing vocals. Noname is careful with the feelings of others but also unafraid to let a loving hand linger on the darkest and worst that life has to offer: \u00a0\u201cAll my n*ggas is casket pretty\/Ain\u2019t no one safe in this happy city,\u201d she sighs, content with her place in the balance between joy and murder, between life and death. \u2013Jayson Greene<\/p>\n

Noname : \u201cDiddy Bop\u201d [ft. Raury & Cam O’bi] (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Joey Purp<\/div>\n

iiiDrops<\/h2>\n
self-released<\/div>\n

Joey Purp is not a flashy rapper, but a consistent one. iiiDrops<\/em> opens with a survey of his surroundings on \u201cMorning Sex.\u201d Even with horn blasts reminiscent of Just Blaze,\u00a0Purp remains level, delivering a steady flow throughout. His mixtape is the work of someone who\u2019s taken in the world around him, and is relaying only the most crucial parts.\u00a0\u2013Matthew Strauss<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Joey Purp: “Girls @” [ft. Chance the Rapper] (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Pusha T<\/div>\n

Darkest Before Dawn<\/h2>\n
Def Jam \/ G.O.O.D. Music<\/div>\n

Pusha\u2019s latest solo record dropped in the waning hours of December 2015, but it hung uneasily throughout the darkness of 2016, from the classic Clipse hauteur (\u201cI drops every blue moon\/To separate myself from you kings of the YouTube,\u201d he snapped at the album\u2019s opening) to its dire warnings of storm fronts approaching (\u201cKeep Dealing\u201d). Most affectingly, he offered a diagnosis of the police killings that have trampled our news feeds, one shaky iPhone video at a time. \u201cThese ain\u2019t new problems, they just old ways,\u201d he reminded us on \u201cSunshine.\u201d \u201cThe badge is the new noose.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pusha found new ways to bring his battle-hardened realism to the front lines. It was a dispiriting year, difficult for optimists, and he was there, eyeing the changing winds and reporting on what he saw. Even with all the dark currents swirling, he put a careful toe on the national stage, campaigning (warily, but hard) for Hillary Clinton. As the husk of \u201cgangsta rap\u201d continues to crumble around him, he finds new ways of engaging with the world without losing his precious skepticism. \u2013Jayson Greene<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Rae Sremmurd<\/div>\n

SremmLife 2<\/h2>\n
Interscope \/ Ear Drummer<\/div>\n

Swae Lee and Slim Jxmmi broke down hip-hop\u2019s barriers on SremmLife<\/em>, so what were they supposed to do once they got in? Basically, rap about the same things, just over hazier production. SremmLife 2<\/em>\u00a0rarely attempts to reach the same party highs as its predecessor: Swae and Jxmmi tend to luxuriate more than stunt, letting beats simmer\u2014as on \u201cBy Chance\u201d\u2014instead of jumping frantically all over them. Although \u201cBlack Beatles\u201d broke out largely due to an\u00a0internet anomaly, it did so deservingly. It\u2019s the record\u2019s best song and the greatest distillation of its mood: calm, awesome, and still just a little bit different. \u2013Matthew Strauss<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Rae Sremmurd: “By Chance” (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A Tribe Called Quest<\/div>\n

We got it from Here… Thank You 4 Your service<\/h2>\n
Epic<\/div>\n

On A Tribe Called Quest\u2019s The<\/em>Low End Theory<\/em>, Q-Tip posed a series of questions in the track \u201cWhat?\u201d \u201cWhat\u2019s a black nation without black unity?\u201d he asked. \u201cWhat are the youth if they ain\u2019t rebellin\u2019?\u201d These questions became interconnected plot points in We got it from Here… Thank You 4 Your service**,<\/em> ____Tribe\u2019s first album in 18 years. It\u2019s a superb swan song that subtly expounds upon these ideas\u2014championing young people as agents of rebellion, examining the pervasiveness of American corruption\u2014with masterful and tireless wordplay, and it champions black unity both explicitly in its lyrics and implicitly by its mere existence.<\/p>\n

Reunited and as sharp as ever, the Tribe collective\u2014which now includes honorary members Busta Rhymes and Consequence\u2014forge a statement of crystal clarity, a feel-good record that acts as a timely counter-punch to the fear and hate consuming this country. It\u2019s a fulfilling cap on the legacy of a group that didn\u2019t have anything left to prove; a rap communion that eloquently examines the issues of the day; a fun open workshop among longtime friends; and a friendly reminder of how powerful rap can be in the darkest times. \u2013Sheldon Pearce<\/p>\n

A Tribe Called Quest: We the People (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Isaiah Rashad<\/div>\n

The Sun\u2019s Tirade<\/h2>\n
Top Dawg<\/div>\n

Isaiah Rashad is the quietest and least productive member of TDE, a truth he acknowledges with the opening skit on his long-awaited second album The Sun\u2019s Tirade<\/em>: a voicemail from TDE co-president Dave Free simply demanding to know where his \u201cgoddamn album\u201d is. But The Sun\u2019s Tirade<\/em> is a gut-level confession, a heartfelt and blazingly personal statement it could not have been simple to dislodge; Rashad swims in drug dependency and nearly drowns in depression, fighting his way towards lucidity with every croaked bar. But while his lyrics might moan, his music never does.\u00a0\u2013Jayson Greene<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

Isaiah Rashad: Wat’s Wrong (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Schoolboy Q<\/div>\n

Blank Face LP<\/h2>\n
Interscope \/ Top Dawg<\/div>\n

Schoolboy Q is the unapologetic, \u201cby any means necessary\u201d brand of gangbanger\u2014\u201cThank God for the game,\u201d he raps on \u201cNeva CHange,\u201d only minutes after reveling in his troublemaker past as a grade school truant, teenage dope dealer, child gunman and armed burglar in South Central L.A. \u201cI was 13\u00a0with my mothafuckin\u2019 heat, y\u2019all\/N*gga caught cases tryna take your fuckin\u2019 screen off.\u201d He\u2019s always been remarkably efficient at tough talk and a subscriber to gangsta ideology, but on Blank Face<\/em>, the masked shooter removes all pretenses, becoming more visible and seeking something like understanding. He takes us through the labyrinth he\u2019s had to navigate to survive: absentee parents, crooked cops, rival gangs, and all of the harrowing and sobering nooks and crannies of the inner city. It\u2019s a stunning study on how destitution breeds ganglands, how being left \u201cwhere hope just don\u2019t exist\u201d hardens and makes someone desperate, and how desperation can quickly turn someone cold. \u2013Sheldon Pearce<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Skepta<\/div>\n

Konnichiwa<\/h2>\n
Boy Better Know<\/div>\n

If you\u2019re feeling apocalyptic right now, well\u2014Skepta\u2019s here for you, and he\u2019s demanding to know what took you so long. The grime pioneer\u2019s long-awaited album, Konnichiwa**,<\/em> wants to burn it down: London, rap, the police state, the hype cycle, everything. He produced eight of Konnichiwa<\/em>\u2019s breathless, jagged tracks, and listening to the blasted-out, charred album is like stepping under caution tape to join the revolutionaries, the people who have already correctly deduced they have nothing left to lose. \u2014Jayson Greene<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Vince Staples<\/div>\n

Prima Donna<\/h2>\n
Def Jam \/ Blacksmith \/ Artium<\/div>\n

Vince Staples has been painted into a box since his rise to fame. He\u2019s the\u00a0rose whom\u00a0Tupac presaged, only with very potent thorns. While\u00a0Summertime \u201906<\/em> provided depth for his complicated persona,\u00a0Prima Donna<\/em> is his literal breakout performance, both indulging in and tearing up preconceived notions. He deals with the anxieties of fame and balances it with the public\u2019s perception of his \u201cgangsta\u201d ideals, as well as what he really believes in.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

On closing track \u201cBig Time,\u201d he gives in. Producer James Blake pitches up his vocals just enough so they sound prepubescent. Staples goes on to rap about snatching women \u201cstraight up out the Richardson Mag<\/em>,\u201d and having no respect for anyone who hasn\u2019t killed, switching up his flow constantly like an eager up-and-comer. It\u2019s his way of saying: \u201cHere you go, this is what you think I am.\u201d It\u2019s been easy to try to define Staples, so he appropriately muddies the waters with Prima Donna<\/em>. \u2013Matthew Strauss<\/p>\n

Vince Staples: \u201cPrima Donna\u201d [ft. A$AP Rocky] (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Kanye West<\/div>\n

The Life of Pablo<\/h2>\n
Def Jam \/ G.O.O.D. Music<\/div>\n

Kanye West lived\u00a0The Life of Pablo<\/em> in 2016. Of the album, a haphazard and brilliant collection of music with occasional bars, West\u00a0said that the \u201cPablo\u201d referred to Paul the Apostle; still, the record is more broadly a Christian experience (not really \u201ca gospel album\u201d) that fluctuates between the desire for salvation and the need to satisfy carnality. Throughout the year, West said heinous things and did stupid things; those are best reflected with \u201cFamous\u201d and \u201cFreestyle 4,\u201d reckless and headstrong songs. But he also delivered joy to countless fans via a flying stage: Those moments are \u201cHighlights\u201d and \u201cWaves,\u201d when everything seems to go right. Ultimately, West has left the public eye to care for himself. It\u2019s his final act in living The Life of Pablo<\/em>, something for which he strives on the album\u2019s sublime opener: We are unfathomably far from perfect. Things go poorly and we make them worse. But there\u2019s a kernel of goodness that lives at our darkest. To overcome, we have to remember that and search for the Ultralight Beam. \u2013Matthew Strauss<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n

<\/p>\n

YG<\/div>\n

Still Brazy<\/h2>\n
Def Jam<\/div>\n

YG\u2019s sophomore album will live forever for one reason: \u201cFuck Donald Trump.\u201d Like his 2014 major label debut, Still Brazy<\/em> is an achievement in sequencing and hard-nosed, plainspoken bars\u2013but, most importantly, it\u2019s where YG, a person of influence, got political in the only way he could: straightforwardly and effectively. Upon its original March release, \u201cFDT\u201d reacted strongly to a hateful candidate with impossible chances whose election felt a lifetime away, not seven months. Now, it stands next to \u201cFuck tha Police\u201d in rap\u2019s annals of rebellion.<\/p>\n

Elsewhere on Still Brazy<\/em>, YG deals with personal matters, although not with the same devotion of My Krazy Life<\/em>. He considers who may have shot him, doles out advice for those looking for their own handouts, and ultimately falls back on his own self-assurance\u2013\u201cBool, Balm & Bollective.\u201d But it\u2019s on \u201cFDT\u201d (followed by the similarly astute \u201cBlacks & Browns\u201d and \u201cPolice Get Away Wit Murder,\u201d which closes the record) where he cements a commitment to something greater than himself. \u2013Matthew Strauss<\/p>\n

YG: “I Wanna Benz” [ft. Nipsey Hussle and 50 Cent] (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Young Thug<\/div>\n

JEFFERY<\/h2>\n
Atlantic \/ 300 Entertainment<\/div>\n

In which the intoxicating blur that is Young Thug (\u201cNo, my name is Jeffery,\u201d he would have patiently responded this year, just the latest changing of his spots) dons a resplendent dress and bellows a number of love songs to his fianc\u00e9e. Those songs have obvious-seeming, catchy titles (\u201cHarambe\u201d! \u201cKanye West\u201d!) but the songs they adorn have the same arm\u2019s-length relationship to their subjects that the moniker \u201cYoung Thug\u201d has to the brilliant futurist pop star squirming and molting beneath it. It\u2019s been at least five years, and we still haven\u2019t pinned this guy down. \u2013Jayson Greene<\/p>\n

Young Thug: \u201cKanye West\u201d (via SoundCloud)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/article>\n

Source URL: https:\/\/pitchfork.com\/features\/lists-and-guides\/9987-the-top-20-rap-albums-of-2016\/<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Lists & Guides The 20 Best Rap Albums of 2016 Danny Brown, Skepta, Kamaiyah and the other rappers who made this year great By Pitchfork December 5, 2016 From the bleak and pitiless nihilism of 21 Savage, Skepta, and Danny Brown to the exuberance of Kamaiyah and Chance; from the gnomic, inward musings of Ka […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[54],"class_list":["post-1255949","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-politics","tag-pitchfork-com"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1255949","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1255949"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1255949\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1255949"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1255949"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1255949"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}