{"id":1518945,"date":"2016-06-29T16:35:00","date_gmt":"2016-06-29T13:35:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/?p=1518945"},"modified":"2016-06-29T16:35:00","modified_gmt":"2016-06-29T13:35:00","slug":"the-50-best-rap-mixtapes-of-the-millennium","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/?p=1518945","title":{"rendered":"The 50 Best Rap Mixtapes of the Millennium"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Lists & Guides<\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The 50 Best Rap Mixtapes of the Millennium<\/h1>\n
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From Lil Wayne to Max B to Nicki Minaj, a look at the best free downloads, tapes, and CD-Rs released since 2000<\/div>\n
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By <\/span>Pitchfork<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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What does \u201cmixtape\u201d mean anymore? In assembling this list, we asked the question again and again, partly because rap continues to redefine the term. In 2000, mixtapes were generally still piles of exclusive freestyles sequenced by enterprising DJs like DJ Clue\u2013they were promotional tools, pure and simple. In the middle of the last decade, after CD burners became cheap and ubiquitous, rappers like Lil Wayne began using them to build international audiences. And this year, Chance the Rapper released 14 sleek tracks with Kanye West and Lil Wayne cameos that he called a \u201cmixtape,\u201d and it debuted with the backing of Apple.<\/p>\n

So there was only one hard-and-fast rule to make our cut: a \u201cmixtape\u201d was a free release, offered directly to rap fans. Other than that, everything else\u2013whether it consisted of beats taken from other rappers\u2019 albums or contained all original music, whether it was offered as promotion for a retail album or a standalone release\u2013was up for grabs. The context of a release, both within an artist\u2019s own career and within rap at large, mattered to us, as did replayability: The best mixtapes of the millennium double as some of the era\u2019s best long-playing rap albums, because the distinction between the two has all but been erased. We hope you enjoy reading and debating as much as we did.<\/p>\n

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Main Attrakionz<\/div>\n

808s & Dark Grapes II<\/h2>\n

50<\/p>\n

In 2011, the California duo Main Attrakionz\u00a0were another young group who made the blog rounds while pumping out a steady diet of free, eccentric rap. 808s and Dark Grapes II<\/em> crystalized not only their style but what would forever be known as cloud rap: featherlight beats with psych flourishes around the edges, Imogen Heap\u00a0by way of Bay Area slap. It\u2019s as much a milestone of post-Lil B rap as it is a weird token from this decade\u2019s obsession with minimal electronica.<\/p>\n

On 808s<\/em>, Main Attrakionz sounded effortlessly cool and totally new. It was a rare feat, and a sneakily poignant portrait of youth\u2013once the hypnotic beats wore off, you were privy to lines about them putting gum wrappers in their mouths to pretend they had grills. Squadda Bambino\u00a0and Mondre M.A.N. rapped quietly, cutting bars like your friend who waits until he\u2019s stoned to talk about death: on \u201cTake 1\u201d\u00a0(released here before it appeared on A$AP Rocky\u2019s\u00a0Live.Love.A$AP<\/em>), Squadda confessed, \u201cMy album coming November, that\u2019s 20 years of memory\/And that\u2019s assuming I\u2019ma live that long.\u201d\u00a0These two blunted guys laid it bare on top of pointillist bangers that sampled Glasser, Usher, and Willie Hutch. There had been nothing quite like it before.\u2014Matthew Ramirez<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2011<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Main Attrakionz:\u00a0808s and Dark Grapes II<\/em><\/p>\n

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Max B \/ French Montana<\/div>\n

Coke Wave<\/h2>\n

49<\/p>\n

In 2009, Max B\u00a0was sentenced to 75 years in prison for myriad reasons stemming from conspiracy and weapons charges. While he has maintained a semi-consistent track record of dropping tracks while in the pen, his final outside offering arrived at the top of that year, when he collaborated with a young Bronx native on the Coke Wave<\/em> mixtape. At the time, French Montana\u00a0was merely a street-rap upstart with a Coke Boys\u00a0crew in tow, but this project cemented him as New York’s next star.<\/p>\n

The DJ Whoo Kid-hosted\u00a0project\u2014an amalgam of Max B\u2019s \u201cwavy\u201d manifesto and French\u2019s \u201ccoke boy\u201d mantra\u2014showcases the two artists trading bars on a number of cuts, the standout being the now-classic title track. However, a tip of the fitted goes to French on this one, as his solo face time on deep cuts like \u201cSmoking\u201d\u00a0and \u201cBricks & Walls\u201d\u00a0helped him pave his own lane as an artist with skills to stand alone. If anything is truly wavy, it\u2019s that.\u2014Kathy Iandoli<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Release Year:<\/strong> 2009<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0French Montana & Max B: Coke Wave<\/em><\/p>\n

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Wale<\/div>\n

The Mixtape About Nothing<\/h2>\n

48<\/p>\n

Wale has fallen out of favor lately, so it can be difficult to remember how highly esteemed he was in the spring of 2008*.* A charismatic D.C.-bred rapper\u00a0who mixed pop-culture savvy with acrobatic verses and his hometown\u2019s iconic go-go percussion, he had already positioned himself as the District\u2019s first breakout rapper off the strength of three excellent mixtapes*.*<\/p>\n

His star turn perfectly channeled the internet just as it was starting to embrace nostalgia as high art. The \u201cSeinfeld\u201d-referencing Mixtape About Nothing<\/em>\u00a0was a Trojan horse, slipping a nuanced, D.C.-centric collection of songs to a nation of new listeners just looking for some Costanza quips. Standout tracks like \u201cThe Kramer,\u201d\u00a0\u201cThe Vacation From Ourselves\u201d\u00a0and \u201cThe Artistic Integrity\u201d\u00a0allowed Wale to break down topics like race and celebrity at length, his earnest explorations lobbed over gogo beats by local producers like Best Kept Secret. There\u2019s a point on the tape where the rapper disavows comparisons to Kanye, positing himself as a different flavor of fashion-obsessed rapper; at the time, measuring the two against each other wasn\u2019t so crazy.\u2014Jonah Bromwich<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2008<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Wale: The Mixtape About Nothing<\/em><\/p>\n

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King Louie<\/div>\n

Drilluminati<\/h2>\n

47<\/p>\n

King Louie was forced into the role of hip-hop elder before his time by an upstart generation with a sudden, short-circuit rise. As a result, his best earlier work often pointed to lost possibilities for Chicago\u2019s drill scene, which, before it was codified by imitators coast-to-coast, had a sonic diversity few now recognize. And despite its reputation for brutality and violence, Louie sprang to fame in his hometown largely due to his mischievous sense of humor\u2013one exemplified in \u201cVal Venis,\u201d\u00a0a song built around Louie’s viral dance video in which he emulated the titular wrestler’s distinctive dance moves.<\/p>\n

While TONY<\/em>, his most consistent tape, has become the go-to King Louie record for Chicagoans, it was one shaped by the bleak realism foisted on Chicago from the outside. Drilluminati<\/em> (2012) saw the drill scene as a space of possibility, a cosmopolitan album that slipped sleek pop records (\u201cMy Hoes They Do Drugs\u201d) beside Shawty Redd\u00a0bangers (\u201cRated R\u201d), C-Sick’s\u00a0street symphonies (\u201cVal Venis\u201d) and Nez&Rio’s\u00a0skeletal 808 anthems (\u201cBand Nation\u201d). There were hundreds of directions Chicago’s street rap scene could have gone in 2012, and Louie opted for all of them\u2013and, despite drill’s reputation, he had fun with it.\u2014David Drake<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2012<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0King Louie: Drilluminati<\/em><\/p>\n

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Curren$y<\/div>\n

The Drive In Theatre<\/h2>\n

46<\/p>\n

We first met Curren$y\u00a0as he pimped out his chick on Lil Wayne\u2019s Dedication 2<\/em> posse cut \u201cWhere Da Cash At.\u201d\u00a0However, the New Orleans\u00a0rapper\u2019s stasis is a bit more chill; he sounds most comfortable reclining in his \u201964 Chevy and flowing about his fleet of low-riders, never-ending supply of crystalized buds and stable of Curren$y\u2019s Angels.<\/p>\n

Over plush, velvety production threaded with saxophones and synths, Curren$y did just that on The Drive In Theatre<\/em>\u00a0in 2014. He might\u2019ve be perma-stoned, but he remembered plenty on here, punctuating \u201cHi Top Whites\u201d\u00a0with little details about morning-after leftovers. He also proved to be resourceful\u2013\u201cI can take 10 Gs\/And make 20 more 10 Gs with that,\u201d\u00a0he boasted on the Cardo-produced \u201c10 G\u2019s\u201d\u2014and erudite, bragging about his Words with Friends prowess, while acknowledging that might not up his chances at mainstream rap glory.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Since Master P, the NOLA\u00a0way has been staying hyper-local and showering your city with love. Cruising in his lane, Curren$y continued the tradition.\u2014Rebecca Haithcoat<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2014<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Curren$y: The Drive In Theatre<\/em><\/p>\n

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Wiz Khalifa<\/div>\n

Kush and Orange Juice<\/h2>\n

45<\/p>\n

Before the corny hits full of high hyena giggles, Wiz Khalifa\u00a0was one of the best and earliest businessmen on Twitter, coalescing his Taylor Gang\u00a0and peddling underground mixtapes. It was only a matter of time before one of those popped, and you can praise (or blame) Kush & Orange Juice<\/em> for boosting him into the mainstream in 2010.<\/p>\n

Those devoted to the Taylor Gang or Die lifestyle were pissed at his crossover, but with it, the Pittsburgh native\u00a0proved a progenitor of singsong rap; \u201cWe\u2019re Done,\u201d\u00a0which sampled Demi Lovato, hid in plain sight on Kush<\/em>. In fact, gorgeously lush melodies were the tape\u2019s hallmark. \u201cMezmorized\u201d\u00a0gleamed like a freshly waxed car and \u201cThe Kid Frankie,\u201d\u00a0on which Wiz rapped over a 1985 Loose Ends classic, remains one of the most inspired flips on any mixtape ever. Love songs like the somersaulting \u201cUp\u201d\u00a0foreshadowed the softer, more radio-friendly Wiz to come. Love or hate him now, you can\u2019t say Wiz didn\u2019t show you his true, commercially appealing colors early on.\u2014Rebecca Haithcoat<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2010<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong> Wiz Khalifa: Kush & Orange J**uice<\/em><\/p>\n

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DJ Green Lantern \/ Jadakiss<\/div>\n

The Champ Is Here<\/h2>\n

44<\/p>\n

Despite his prodigious talent, Jadakiss\u00a0always had trouble with studio albums. Maybe it was the pressure that accompanied an official release, or the rigidity of the format: songs bracketed off from one another, no DJ egging him on. Above all, ‘Kiss was defined by spontaneity; he came up as a freestyle battle rapper, and his gleeful goblin cackle is perhaps the most beloved ad-lib in hip-hop. He thrives on mixtapes, never more so than on 2004’s The Champ Is Here<\/em>*.*<\/p>\n

Stocked with Easter egg samples and consisting of only three tracks longer than three minutes, the tape was nonstop, shit-talking fun, from the one-two punch of the Ali<\/em>*-*sampling title track and the nostalgic Sweet G beat on \u201cGames People Play\u201d\u00a0to the master\u2019s clinic, \u201c40 Bars of Terror.\u201d\u00a0 The inclusion of one of Kiss\u2019s best verses\u2014which he originally dropped on Gang Starr\u2019s 2003 cut \u201cRite Where U Stand\u201d\u2014demonstrates how this format complemented the Yonkers-born rapper. As ‘Kiss said of mixtapes, nearly a decade after Champ<\/em> was released, \u201cYou can do something different, or you can do anything you want to do.\u201d\u2014Jonah Bromwich<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2004<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong> DJ Green Lantern and Jadakiss: The Champ is Here<\/em><\/p>\n

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The Jacka<\/div>\n

The Street Album<\/h2>\n

43<\/p>\n

The hyphy movement drew the spotlight to the Bay Area briefly in the mid-2000s, but the press focused mostly on the culture’s relative novelties\u2013dreadlocks and sideshows, \u201cghost riding the whip,\u201d Rick Rock’s\u00a0exuberant production. The Jacka, a street rap auteur whose narrative style and effervescent cool would have made him a natural fit for East Coast rap fans, did not strike historians as \u201cdifferent\u201d enough, though his locale marked him as too<\/em> different for the mainstream.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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In the wake of hyphy’s demise, the Jacka pushed himself towards national attention through a series of mixtapes, unofficial albums, and collaborative releases. The Street Album<\/em>\u2013a 2008 mixtape full of original compositions\u2014cultivated a distinct sound that contained multitudes: the Stephen\u00a0Marley\u00a0and Sizzla samples on \u201cFed Up\u201d\u00a0and \u201cCrown Me,\u201d\u00a0the lush electronica of \u201cAspen\u201d\u00a0rubbing shoulders with post-Kanye soul of \u201cAddiction.\u201d Wistful ’80s pop and confrontational militancy added to the divergent sounds, which were held together by a rapper reaching his peak as a stylist, a minimalist whose pointed verses implied layers of meaning beyond the surface.\u2014David Drake<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2008<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0The Jacka: The Street Album<\/em><\/p>\n

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Cam’ron<\/div>\n

The Purple Mixtape<\/h2>\n

42<\/p>\n

The Cam\u2019ron\u00a0that we now know and love\u2013purveyor of rooty-tooty fruity Louis, rattler of tongue-twisting entendres as silly as they are cerebral\u2013was born in a narrow window between his second and third records, when the Harlem rapper shook his way out of a deal with Sony\u00a0and signed with Dame Dash. His new mentor unclipped his wings and encouraged his eccentricities, and you can hear his flow shifting shape as you skip through this unofficial 2006 mixtape, which preceded his album Purple Haze<\/em>\u00a0and became a cheat sheet for this transitive stage in his career.<\/p>\n

The tape featured rare one-off radio freestyles, old highlights from past iterations like S.D.E.<\/em> and Children of the Corn, and even a Nas diss where Cam hilariously walks him through getting out of his deal with Sony and Tommy Motolla. The Purple Mixtape<\/em>\u00a0is a blip in Cam\u2019ron and the Diplomats\u2019 output, but got significant burn as a street-curated greatest hits that showcased the rapper finding new footing and sprinting off with the hearts of the people.\u2014Matthew Trammell<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2006<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Cam\u2019ron: The Purple Mixtape<\/em><\/p>\n

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Starlito \/ Don Trip<\/div>\n

Step Brothers<\/h2>\n

41<\/p>\n

The clich\u00e9 is that the mixtape is a tool for newcomers to build a fanbase and position themselves for the big advance. But that\u2019s not their most interesting function. From 50 Cent or Joe Budden stuck in label purgatory, to Lil Wayne working out the kinks of a new style, the most compelling tapes often come from artists who have been through the wringer, point of view fully formed, ready to go for the throat.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s precisely where Don Trip\u00a0and Starlito\u00a0found themselves in 2011. Newly off the major-label conveyor belt, the Memphis\u00a0and Nashville\u00a0natives (respectively) gravitated to each other across Interstate 40\u00a0and made a daring, maximalist mixtape about duffel bags filled with money and nights filled with paranoia. Check \u201c4th Song,\u201d\u00a0which sounded like being taunted as the walls close in. Neither Starlito nor Trip have broken through to the mainstream, but Step Brothers<\/em> (and its 2013 sequel) cemented them as unimpeachable.\u2014Paul A. Thompson<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2011<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong> Don Trip and Starlito: Step Brothers<\/em><\/p>\n

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Joey Bada$$<\/div>\n

1999<\/h2>\n

40<\/p>\n

Joey Bada$$ was a mere high school student in Brooklyn, but his 2012 debut tape has such graduated lyrical ability, it put New York rap back on the map. On the flagship cut, \u201cSurvival Tactics,\u201d Joey\u00a0and the late Capital STEEZ\u00a0rode a boom-bap beat with both arrogance and social consciousness, a delicate balance reminiscent of rap\u2019s Golden Age. Most of 1999<\/em>\u00a0falls along that vibe; Joey and his Pro Era\u00a0squad understood the value of the past, but they didn\u2019t rhyme from a dated reference point.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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While some of 1999\u2019s<\/em> beats rework classics by MF Doom\u00a0and J Dilla\u00a0(and full credit was given to the originators), the brunt of the work is extremely sample-heavy. That was a wise move, given Joey\u2019s early #ThrowbackThursday allure. He\u2019s only kept rising since those days.\u2014Kathy Iandoli<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2012<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Joey Bada$$: 1999<\/em><\/p>\n

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Juelz Santana<\/div>\n

Back Like Cooked Crack 2: More Crack<\/h2>\n

39<\/p>\n

By 2005, Juelz Santana\u00a0had earned his seat as the cocksure teenager at Cam\u2019ron\u2019s side: he\u2019d mastered Cam\u2019s new slow flow and brought to it a youthful fearlessness. \u201cDipset (Santana\u2019s Town)\u201d\u00a0was a lay-up with shades of Southern crunk, and it gave the sense that you could throw Santana any beat and he\u2019d get some solid ad-libs off, at the very least.<\/p>\n

But the Back Like Cooked Crack<\/em>\u00a0mixtape trio gave him his own corner, and the second installment, arriving in the middle of 2005, was its peak. \u201cMic Check\u201d\u00a0was among the best beats of the year, an O.K. Corral of horns and handclaps that fans were so thirsty for, they pried it from the rapper\u2019s hands: it got so much burn before the proper release of his second album, What the Game\u2019s Been Missing<\/em>, that Juelz and his label had no choice but to tack it onto the end as a bonus. Not to mention DJ Green Lantern\u00a0flossing his pedigree as a producer up and down the tape\u2013how did they possibly find that \u201che wears a red bandana\u201d sample?\u2014Matthew Trammell<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2015<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Juelz Santana: Back Like Crooked Crack Pt. 2<\/em><\/p>\n

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Boosie Badazz<\/div>\n

Superbad: The Return of Mr. Wipe-Me-Down<\/h2>\n

38<\/p>\n

In 2009, Boosie Badazz\u00a0(then known as Lil Boosie) bolted into the mixtape circuit like a burning man approaching the sea. \u201cWHO\u2019SBADI\u2019MBAD\/SUPERBAD,\u201d\u00a0he screamed at us in the first minute of Superbad:<\/em>The Return of Mr. Wipe Me Down<\/em>, so frenetically it came out as one long word.<\/p>\n

Boosie had something\u2013everything\u2013to prove. Until then, he was known for a lightweight-sounding regional hit in Baton Rouge\u00a0called \u201cWipe Me Down,\u201d\u00a0the sort of track most rap listeners associated with younger kids, cell phones, and coordinated dances uploaded to YouTube. But he was something else entirely: a wild-eyed incarnation of Pac, an endless reservoir of pain who rapped with force and poetry in an indelible voice. He became a new kind of rap star\u2013touring packed venues throughout South, collecting suitcases full of cash upfront\u2013who was also a depressingly old kind of rap star: the local legend who couldn\u2019t bend the ear of White America.\u2014Jayson Greene<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2009<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Lil Boosie: Superbad: The Return of Mr. Wipe-Me-Down<\/em><\/p>\n

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DJ Green Lantern<\/div>\n

Invasion Part 2: Conspiracy Theory<\/h2>\n

37<\/p>\n

During their early-aughts height, physical mixtapes served an industry role much like social media does today: signings were announced, beefs unfolded, and with comparatively short rollouts, references could be made in real-time. Rappers could talk directly to their core fans and to each other. DJ Green Lantern\u00a0stuck out as one of the most original, creative mixtape DJs on racks, with elaborately blended intros that stitched together lines from dozens of verses to create entirely new ones. He produced beats on the backend that gave his tapes the cohesive sound of albums, way before that was considered an asset.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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His talents caught Eminem\u2019s ear, who signed him as a DJ to the formative Shady Records\u00a0at the heart of his and 50 Cent\u2019s\u00a0beef with Benzino, Ja Rule\u00a0and Murder Inc. On Invasion Part 2<\/em>, Green Lantern\u2019s first release as a Shady artist (in 2003), he tried to play fair, including diss tracks from both camps, but Shady\u2019s \u201cBump Heads,\u201d \u201cKeepTalkin,\u201d\u00a0and \u201cWe All Die 1 Day\u201d\u00a0were curbside stomp-outs, way rawer than Jay Z and Nas\u2019 radio-primed battle of two years prior. In the shadow of Drake and Meek Mill\u2019s recent dust-up, it\u2019s a delicious tape to revisit\u2013if not for the disses, then for D-Block\u2019s \u201c2 Gunz Up,\u201d\u00a0which finally gave rap the military chant it deserved.\u2014Matthew Trammell<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2003<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0DJ Green Lantern: Invasion Part 2<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Das Racist<\/div>\n

Sit Down, Man<\/h2>\n

36<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not just how Victor \u201cKool A.D.\u201d V\u00e1zquez\u00a0easily dropped Nietzsche\u00a0and Stanley Tucci\u00a0in the same verse on \u201cRapping 2 U,\u201d\u00a0or how Himanshu \u201cHeems\u201d Suri\u00a0cut down smartphone-era intelligence with just a few breaths on \u201cYou Can Sell Anything.\u201d\u00a0Sit Down, Man<\/em> (2010) remains a painfully\u00a0smart collection, a melting point of careful allusions, deft execution, and deeply engaging melodies. With every listen, there are still confounding lines to be unfurled, new moments to be dissected.<\/p>\n

Das Racist\u00a0waited awhile to fully air out their cleverness. The preceding tape, Shut Up, Dude<\/em>,<\/em> was burdened with the task of making the \u201cCombination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell\u201d guys credible. Their only commercial album, Relax<\/em>,<\/em> was messy in its many departures. But on Sit Down, Man<\/em>, Heems and Vic embraced the mixtape medium, rapping over a diverse array of beats. Vic\u2019s intricately woven verses on \u201cAll Tan Everything\u201d\u00a0epitomized Sit Down, Man<\/em>: he ended by giggling \u201cstupid, stupid\u201d\u00a0but, like everything on the tape, it was anything but.\u2014Matthew Strauss<\/p>\n

__Release Year:<\/strong> __2010<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Das Racist: Sit Down, Man<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Isaiah Rashad<\/div>\n

Cilvia Demo<\/h2>\n

35<\/p>\n

Isaiah Rashad is a product of Chattanooga\u2013and also New Orleans, Atlanta, Memphis, and Houston, because he\u2019s come up while southern rap is fully dominant. It\u2019s still a bit surprising that he wound up on a label like TDE, sharing headspace with Kendrick Lamar, even if he did\u00a0rhyme over Flying Lotus first. Still, that signing gave him the motivation to come correct with the vivid self-portrait that was his 2014 debut,\u00a0Cilvia Demo<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Here’s a kid from the middle of nowhere growing into a bill-paying father before your eyes, trying to do right after someone failed him. Rashad plunged head-on into the prospect of making a complete album statement and delivered moments of calm catharsis: facing down his father’s influence on \u201cHereditary,\u201d\u00a0self-medicating on \u201cTranquility,\u201d\u00a0pondering suicidal impulses on \u201cHeavenly Father.\u201d\u00a0It\u2019s all delivered with the young yet worldly focus of someone with a ton to get off his chest. Two years after his introduction, Rashad’s future still seems wide open.\u2014Nate Patrin<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2014<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Isaiah Rashad: Cilvia Demo<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Freddie Gibbs<\/div>\n

Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik<\/h2>\n

34<\/p>\n

After gangsta rap\u2019s bicoastal tug-of-war in the 1990s, the new century has been characterized by a sharp yank toward the middle of the map. Freddie Gibbs, an anachronistic rapper from Michael Jackson\u2019s hometown (Gary, Indiana)\u00a0reared up in 2009 and nearly claimed the game entirely with an outrageous pair of mixtapes, The<\/em>Miseducation of Freddie Gibbs<\/em>\u00a0and Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik<\/em>.<\/em><\/p>\n

The latter was particularly magnetic: at a time when the internet was flooded with free rap, Gibbs\u2019s superlative technical chops and ear for beats allowed him to surface from the slush, riding tracks like \u201cBoxframe Cadillac,\u201d \u201cSumthin\u2019 U Should Know\u201d and \u201cWomb 2 Da Tomb\u201d\u00a0to discerning ears around the country. His flinty sound, a throwback to the golden era of Tupac\u00a0and the Outlawz, couldn\u2019t be more different from that of Drake, who made his name in the same summer. In those months, though, the two new talents shared one thing: an ability to deliver mixtapes that outshone most studio albums.\u2014Jonah Bromwich<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2009<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Freddie Gibbs:\u00a0Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Meek Mill<\/div>\n

Dreamchasers<\/h2>\n

33<\/p>\n

Meek Mill had already enjoyed a decent run in the mixtape circuit prior to 2011\u2019s\u00a0Dreamchasers<\/em>, but his first solo Maybach Music\u00a0endeavor pinned him aggressively on the \u201cgot next\u201d radar. The DJ Drama-hosted tape arrived one year prior to Meek\u2019s delivery of his groundbreaking debut album, Dreams and Nightmares<\/em>, and its ambition was naked throughout, with Meek\u00a0tossing bars about his own \u201cstarted from the bottom\u201d narrative and dispensing loose life-coaching in his familiar shouting cadence.<\/p>\n

At the time, Lex Luger\u00a0was hip-hop\u2019s producer du jour, and while Meek utilized him the Rick Ross-cosigned \u201cWork,\u201d\u00a0most of the project hung a left with lesser-known producers like Cardiak\u00a0and All Star. Still, Jahlil Beats provided the real gem in \u201cIma Boss\u201d (with Rick Ross), which recognized Meek as a Maybach general and not just another foot soldier.\u2014Kathy Iandoli<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2011<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Meek Mill: Dreamchasers<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Drake<\/div>\n

So Far Gone<\/h2>\n

32<\/p>\n

Noah \u201c40\u201d Shebib\u00a0had barely produced for Drake before 2009. But when the rapper was looking for a sound for his third mixtape, Shebib pointed to Kanye West\u2019s\u00a0Auto-Tuned primal scream 808s and Heartbreaks<\/em>, realizing that its heavy, hazy vibe might be an ideal canvas for his friend. Drake agreed, and the rest is history.<\/p>\n

High-fidelity and laden with hits, So Far Gone<\/em>\u00a0had the sheen of a professional studio album, and it popularized the idea of mixtapes as low-pressure showcases for burgeoning artists. There was \u201cHoustatlantavegas,\u201d\u00a0one of Drake\u2019s best songs to date and something of a blueprint for his artistic high-water mark, Take Care**.<\/em> There were the twin radio smashes \u201cBest I Ever Had\u201d\u00a0and \u201cSuccessful.\u201d\u00a0There was \u201cIgnant Shit,\u201d\u00a0the fiery freestyle costarring Lil Wayne\u00a0that still sounded cushy.<\/p>\n

That pillowy sound was polarizing, but Drake allowed the music\u2019s broad appeal to drown out complaints from more conservative hip-hop-heads, and he became a superstar in the process. So Far Gone<\/em> was later repackaged as a for-sale EP, and a previously free set of songs went gold.\u2014Jonah Bromwich<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Release Year:<\/strong> 2009<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong> Drake: So Far Gone<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Migos<\/div>\n

Y.R.N. (Young Rich Niggas)<\/h2>\n

31<\/p>\n

Mixtapes follow money. Labels aren\u2019t paying for them, so someone else is. It\u2019s why the format has been so effective as a means of insurgence: folks stomping their way in without a hand extended, blasting open new entrances on their way. Before anyone knew who they were, Migos\u00a0weren\u2019t subtle about their means: Quavo, Offset, and Takeoff\u00a0reveled in it. Young Rich Niggas<\/em>\u00a0(2013) was the title, \u201cRich Then Famous\u201d\u00a0was the intro, and \u201cVersace\u201d\u00a0was the Zaytoven-produced calling card that gave luxury-hungry drug dealers an anthem that was way too young and way too street for Rick Ross\u00a0to have served up. Or, as\u00a0host Cory B taunted at the top of \u201cHannah Montana,\u201d\u00a0these kids were \u201cniggas in high school with more money than they teachers.\u201d<\/p>\n

YRN<\/em> was \u201cPomp and Circumstance\u201d\u00a0for a graduating class of adolescent traffickers, and, after aquick remix with Drake\u2014no stranger to the pulse of Atlanta strip clubs\u2014it was the widescreen movie the rest of the country cued up to get a glimpse of what Atlanta traps had been banging since Gucci went in. It was praised for being \u201cweird\u201d at the time of its release, but YRN<\/em> swept its city for how regular it was: the life they saw every day, dressed up and made real.\u2014Matthew Trammell<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2013<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Migos: Young Rich Niggas<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Gucci Mane<\/div>\n

Writing on the Wall<\/h2>\n

30<\/p>\n

Gucci Mane was the most consistent mixtape auteur of the modern era; choosing his highlights comes down to a matter of temperament. Throughout 2007 and 2008, from No Pad, No Pencil<\/em>\u00a0to the full series of Wilt Chamberlain<\/em>\u00a0tapes and Gangsta Grillz: The Movie<\/em> with DJ Drama, Gucci Mane broke the rulebook. Throwaway mixtape tracks could be hits. Every verse mattered. He flanked the entire industry, taking the model pioneered by 50 Cent and magnified by Wayne to its logical outer limit. And then he went to jail.<\/p>\n

By the time he was released in spring 2009, people were just beginning to comprehend the full scope of what he’d accomplished. He was underground no longer. Writing on the Wall<\/em>, his first tape and one of his most compelling contributions, created a new blueprint. Opening with the carnivalesque \u201cHurry,\u201d\u00a0it showed such madcap creativity: \u201cGucci got a warrant\/How the fuck I get subpoenaed?\/Objection! What’s the objection?\/Your honor, I’m a genius!\u201d\u00a0\u201cFirst Day Out\u201d\u00a0remains his signature record with Zaytoven, iconic lyrics (\u201cI’m starting out my\u00a0day with a blunt of purp…\u201d) sketched out with menacing understatement. Then there was “Wasted,\u201d\u00a0the Fatboi-produced\u00a0track so hot it would jump from mixtape cut to radio single, propelling the rapper onto the Hot 100 yet again. Lyrically inventive, musically ambitious, and unpredictably urgent, Writing on the Wall<\/em> was quintessential\u00a0Gucci.\u2014David Drake<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2009<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Gucci Mane: Writing on the Wall<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Future<\/div>\n

Monster<\/h2>\n

29<\/p>\n

Sway made a bold declaration at the start of Monster<\/em>, stating that a lot of other artists were \u201ctrying to sound like\u201d Future, and there have certainly been some less-than-subtle candidates. (Desiigner\u00a0comes to mind.) Future\u2019s\u00a0ninth mixtape only upped the numbers; it proved a pivotal project for him in 2014, one that cemented him as a curious voice all his own.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Monster<\/em> was laced with dark, menacing production befitting its pre-Halloween drop date, and it was curated as slickly as a retail release with board work from Metro Boomin, Southside, and TM88. As Future warbled about girls, money, and his dirty Sprite elixir, he held court fully alone; the only assistance came from Lil Wayne, on \u201cAfter That.\u201d\u00a0The biggest gift was \u201cFuck Up Some Commas,\u201d\u00a0proving that Future\u2019s freebandz offered him the opportunity to hand out album-quality singles pro bono.\u2014Kathy Iandoli<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2014<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Future: Monster<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Young Thug<\/div>\n

1017 Thug<\/h2>\n

28<\/p>\n

In some alternate universe\u2013maybe the liquid kingdom Ghostface Killah\u00a0rapped about entering on \u201cUnderwater,\u201d\u00a0where he saw mermaids with Halle Berry\u00a0haircuts and SpongeBob\u00a0bumping the Isley Bros. in a Bentley Coupe\u2014Young Thug\u00a0is Ghostface, and 1017 Thug<\/em>\u00a0is his Supreme Clientele<\/em>: a fantastical, inscrutable work by a master lyricist no one could understand.<\/p>\n

On Young Thug\u2019s 2013 mixtape, 1017 Thug<\/em>, the Atlanta rapper\u00a0painted a hyper-colorful world in which he was a Cheshire Cat\u00a0prince strolling around \u201cpickin\u2019 peacock trees\u201d\u00a0(\u201cMurder\u201d), where his molly pills were clearer than \u201cjelly\u2026.fish\u201d\u00a0(\u201cDead for Real\u201d)\u00a0and his diamonds winked like Pikachu\u00a0(\u201cPicacho\u201d). The music, from producers like Zaytoven and Nard & B, matched his willful mix of whimsy and menace with tinny, blaring beats that tasted like laced candy. Thugga has furiously shed skins since but not quite matched this giddy peak.\u2014Jayson Greene<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2013<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Young Thug: 1017 Thug<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Lil B<\/div>\n

God’s Father<\/h2>\n

27<\/p>\n

After\u00a0the magazine covers, after\u00a0the Myspace spree, Lil B\u00a0was ready to intimidate in his second act. He did just that on God\u2019s Father<\/em>, a freeform of 34 tracks, nearly two-hour runtime and barely any duds. It was so ubiquitous for awhile, many rappers have since tried and failed to copy his viral formula\u2013but good luck, because B was always more famous, more able, and (most importantly) more unusual.<\/p>\n

God\u2019s Father<\/em> (2012) is one of B\u2019s most deliriously varied tapes, sampling New Edition, Hall & Oates, the cult videogame Ico<\/em>, Millie Jackson, Toto, and Cypress Hill\u00a0with aplomb and no allegiance to era or consistency. \u201cI Own Swag\u201d\u00a0is still an iconic B jam, hijacking a David Banner\u00a0beat to bury the rapper the same way he buried Joe Budden: \u201cYou know I\u2019m more famous than you\/And I can do everything that you can\u2019t do\/Or try to,\u201d\u00a0is a bar that surpasses its target, and is even more meaningful today than in 2012. He also didn\u2019t shy away from plainspoken honesty, apologizing for pushing his inner pain on others (\u201cFebruary\u2019s Confessions\u201d) and shouting out his mom (\u201cI Love You\u201d). Here, following his instincts guaranteed that more stuck to the wall than fell off.\u2014Matthew Ramirez<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2012<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Lil B: God\u2019s Father<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Max B<\/div>\n

Public Domain 3: Domain Pain<\/h2>\n

26<\/p>\n

Max B only spent five years of his adult life as a free man. Incarcerated since he was 17, the Harlem native was released in the middle of the last decade and went to work constructing his own world with stark, grim writing and delightfully off-key harmonies. He injected new life into Dipset, then was excommunicated; he turned New York rap on its axis, then was ripped away to serve a long prison sentence.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Public Domain 3<\/em>, from 2008, is Max\u2019s best, most impressively distilled solo effort. A mixture of reclaimed parts and original work, punctuated by gunshots and piercing \u201cWhooooooooo Kiiiiiiiiiiiid!\u201d drops, the tape flits between sad prophecy (\u201cTrying to fight this prosecute\u201d) and imagined luxury (\u201cI only do designer shit\u201d). \u201cTry Me\u201d\u00a0is perhaps his signature song, a dead-eyed threat that just about bled onto the pop charts.\u2014Paul A. Thompson<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2008<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Max B: Public Domain 3<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Kevin Gates<\/div>\n

The Luca Brasi Story<\/h2>\n

25<\/p>\n

The first, more utilitarian half of Kevin Gates\u2019 2012 mixtape Make ‘Em Believe<\/em>\u00a0painted the picture of a logical, if self-effacing, Jeezy\u00a0successor. Midway, though, Gates waded toward A&R dollar signs, delivering sighing, gospel-infused melodies on the anthem \u201cSatellites.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Baton Rouge-bred\u00a0rapper honed this style further on 2013\u2019s The Luca Brasi Story<\/em>, a stunning, sprawling mixtape later abridged into an Atlantic Records-backed mini-album. Mournful melodies wended around irresolute synth harmonies, sometimes boasting the most romantic, occasionally softcore street rap lyrics of recent memory. There were trap depth charges brimming over with brick-flipping shoptalk and eulogies to fallen friends, but Gates\u2019 integrity as a storyteller was always complemented by radio-ready songwriting (\u201cNeon Lights,\u201d\u00a0\u201cAround Me\u201d). More mixtapes, with more by-the-numbers hits, would follow. It was the self-assured step of Luca Brasi<\/em> that put Gates on the path toward becoming rap\u2019s most unexpected crossover star.\u2014Winston Cook-Wilson<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2013<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Kevin Gates: The Luca Brasi Story<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Kanye West<\/div>\n

Get Well Soon…<\/h2>\n

24<\/p>\n

When The Blueprint<\/em>\u00a0legitimized Jay Z\u00a0to hip-hop heads and critics, granting the notoriously callous rapper the appearance of a heart, it also stirred up attention for the most outspoken member of its production team. Then an aspiring rapper from Chicago, Kanye West\u00a0was inspired by Puff Daddy’s production team the Hitmen, who shifted the sound of pop toward hip-hop in the late 1990s. Kanye\u2019s innovation was to leave in the vocals, pitch-shifting them to helium speeds to create an overload of \u201csoulfulness,\u201d of joyous vulnerability in a genre that had made armor into an art form.<\/p>\n

Get Well Soon<\/em> (2003) was a mixtape in the older sense, a greatest hits compilation of West\u2019s best beats for other artists\u2013songs that would arrive on his debut album, The<\/em>College Dropout<\/em>, and songs that would not (the Consequence-featuring \u201cThe Good, The Bad, and the Ugly\u201d). The highlight, of course, was future single \u201cThrough the Wire,\u201d\u00a0recorded literally through the wire that held his teeth in a gritted formation after a car accident. Though much of his rise was built upon the aesthetic novelty of his production, it was the underlying narrative codified on Get Well Soon<\/em> that would launch West into the popular consciousness: an artist so earnestly driven, not even a near-fatal wreck would block his way.\u2014David Drake<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2003<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Kanye West: Get Well Soon<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Tyler, the Creator<\/div>\n

Bastard<\/h2>\n

23<\/p>\n

NahRight and 2DopeBoyz gave you Wale, Charles Hamilton, Joell Ortiz, et al. But those blogs would never give you<\/em>, aspiring young rapper, a shot. You were furious, spamming them every day between bathroom recording sessions, begging in comment sections, banging your head trying to be heard. And then a loud-mouthed narcissist immortalized exactly how you felt at the open of his first mixtape and set you free. Then he said, \u201cThis is what the devil plays before he goes to sleep\u201d\u00a0and filmed a girl punching a dude in the face, and seemed to have an endless flow of the clothes you couldn\u2019t have, and you sulked back into the laboratory and tossed your playbook in the trash because all the rules had changed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Beyond the savvy blend of Neptunes\u00a0synths and Eminem\u00a0flows, an unprecedented formula that few could\u2019ve dreamed up, Tyler, the Creator\u00a0pioneered in 2009 what the digital mixtape campaign would become: a big bang of magnetic imagery, polarizing content, and cult gathering mantras, all orbiting around a .zip folder. Until then, the rap internet aspired to be nothing more than a scrollable version of the dusty rug where you bought CDs for $5\u2014now it was a mad lab where kids become famous quicker than overnight, and where Tyler, the Creator and his progeny still reign supreme.\u2014Matthew Trammell<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2009<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Tyler the Creator: Bastard<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

50 Cent<\/div>\n

50 Cent Is the Future<\/h2>\n

22<\/p>\n

After the 2000 shooting that nearly ended his life, 50 Cent\u2019s burgeoning career was deemed DOA. But hip-hop doesn’t much like certainties\u2013it’s a genre bound by the narrative of the underdog. And though he arrived in mainstream America like a sure thing, cosigned by hip-hop’s biggest names and bankrolled by its most notorious label, it was his outsider status on the mixtapes 50 Cent Is the Future<\/em>, God\u2019s Plan<\/em>\u00a0and No Mercy, No Fear<\/em>\u00a0that positioned him as the genre’s next superstar.<\/p>\n

At the time, mixtapes were dominated by freestyles over industry beats. 50’s approach changed the game. Perhaps taking a cue from dancehall’s dubplate culture, he transformed R&B singles like Raphael Saadiq\u2019s \u201cBe Here,\u201d\u00a0Tweet’s \u201cCall Me,\u201d\u00a0and Jonell’s \u201cRound and Round\u201d\u00a0into street records. He demolished the unspoken division between street rapper and pop artist, uniting hardcore and pop while embracing sing-song hooks with sardonic glee. The flood-the-streets technique of Lil Wayne, of Gucci, of every artist since, owes a debt to 50 Cent Is the Future<\/em> (2002), a release which transformed an underdog into hip-hop’s biggest star without compromising his vision.\u2014David Drake<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2002<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a050 Cent: 50 Cent Is the Future<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Party Supplies \/ Action Bronson<\/div>\n

Blue Chips<\/h2>\n

21<\/p>\n

\u201c5 Minute Beats 1 Take Raps\u201d\u00a0is a deranged caper: an overflowing vocabulary exercise dashed over songs copped shamelessly from YouTube. In fact, this whole 2012 mixtape is as crazy a stunt as backflipping into a European sports sedan, but more stylish. Bronson\u2019s\u00a0lines are fully ridiculous (\u201cVicodin from Minnesota\/ Make her kiss the cobra\u201d), even when lines like the father-son bonding moment in “Nordic Wind” add a wince to your “oh shit” reactions.<\/p>\n

By this point, Bronsolino was already tired of fighting accusations that he bit his style, and Blue<\/em>Chips<\/em> is defensive throughout. (\u201cDon’t ever say my fucking music sound like Ghost\u2019s shit,” he snarled on \u201cRon Simmons.\u201d) But, if anything, he showed himself to be the DePalma\u00a0to Tony Starks\u2019\u00a0Hitchcock: the techniques may be homage, but the results are a delirium all their own. Blue Chips<\/em> was where Bronson really started to come into his own as the dirtbag gourmand whose lifestyle tales toed the line between enviable and repulsive, like every gangster worth his chops.\u2014Nate Patrin<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Release Year:<\/strong> 2012<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Action Bronson & Party Supplies: Blue Chips<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Drake<\/div>\n

If You\u2019re Reading This It\u2019s Too Late<\/h2>\n

20<\/p>\n

In the same way that Drake is sensitive because he says he is, If You\u2019re Reading This It’s Too Late<\/em>\u00a0(2015) is a mixtape mainly because Drake says it is. Despite the erosion, re-appropriating, and expansion of the term over the years, there may be no single release that’s redefined and confused things as much as IYRTITL<\/em>. By the most stringent standards, this is no mixtape: the recordings are studio quality, it was made for sale (selling almost half a million copies in one week, no less), became part of the pop culture zeitgeist, and stomped all over the Billboard charts.<\/p>\n

However in many senses, it\u2019s the epitome of the early-aughts mixtape philosophy. Released without the consent (and possibly with the disapproval) of your label?\u00a0Check. Relentlessly focused on petty local gripes via blatant subliminals? Yep. Essentially a collection of songs that are too gully for your proper album? Well\u2026it didn’t seem that way, until Drake unveiled his global pop domination goals with View<\/em>s. The first five songs here are among the hardest Drake has ever released under his solo banner; IYRTITL<\/em> is his version of a street record. It’s not his fault this album became a bona fide hit.\u2014kris ex<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2015<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Drake: If You\u2019re Reading This It\u2019s Too Late<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Run the Jewels<\/div>\n

Run the Jewels<\/h2>\n

19<\/p>\n

Fast, loud, mean, and classic, the first Run the Jewels tape is what happens when New York intensity and Atlanta slickness split the difference and amplify each other. El-P\u00a0and Killer Mike’s\u00a0official debut in 2013 followed their collaborative triumph on the previous year’s R.A.P. Music<\/em>*,* and revealed that they were both monsters capable of fantastic damage. With a slick-flowing partner to riff off, El’s panicky vocal barrages clicked into gear and revealed the intricate flow beneath the grimy surface, and Mike’s authoritative preacher-with-a-sledgehammer delivery compounded under El’s Mantronix-goes-Master of Reality<\/em> production. Fuck quotables, they brought shoutables: \u201cDo dope\/Fuck hope\u201d and, \u201cYou wanna hang?\/Bring your throat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Established rappers in their late thirties are supposed to gravitate toward suit-and-tie maturity or nostalgic navel-gazing. Instead, El and Mike dropped the kind of hungry, ferocious banger that reintroduced them as the Meth & Red\u00a0of the college-debt generation; they proved they had the experience to survive the new world knuckles-first. It should be blasted from Mad Max<\/em>\u00a0war rigs, at a minimum.\u2014Nate Patrin<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2013<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Run the Jewels: Run the Jewels<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Chief Keef<\/div>\n

Back From the Dead<\/h2>\n

18<\/p>\n

Chief Keef\u2019s breakthrough mixtape was a foreboding landscape for a teen: a work of dark and empty corners, verses indistinguishable from hooks, wildly fibrillating hi-hats scrambled with gunfire, and flows imitating backfiring machinery instead of speech. In many ways, it was also a collection of variations on the basic flow patterns, production tics, and slang that distinguished his first hit and the tape\u2019s centerpiece, \u201cI Don\u2019t Like.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Back From the Dead<\/em> (2012) also staked a claim for Chicago; in the months following its release, the city became a scene to watch for far-flung hip-hop fans, rather than a mere hometown for standalone stars. Keef\u2013reclusive, occasionally in trouble with the law, stuck in a stalemate with his then-label Interscope\u2013didn\u2019t retain his commercial viability after that breakout year. However, hundreds of loose tracks and disorderly releases later, his style is still an essential reference point in rap. A clipped Keef-style cameo in a new Kodak Black\u00a0or 21 Savage\u00a0track is easily distinguishable from one that cribs Gucci Mane; when Fetty Wap\u00a0decides to\u00a0just rap, he transforms into a gruffer, more on-the-nose Keef. And if you don\u2019t hear Post Malone\u00a0as post-Keef, you\u2019re lettingsurface-level distractions get in the way.\u2014Winston Cook-Wilson<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2012<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Chief Keef: Back From the Dead<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Kendrick Lamar<\/div>\n

O(verly) D(edicated)<\/h2>\n

17<\/p>\n

This was made available at digital retailers via Top Dawg Ent. in 2010, and bears more resemblance to To Pimp a Butterfly<\/em> than Lamar’s prior efforts (including C4<\/em>, a barefaced ode to Lil Wayne).<\/em> It’s also worth noting that the Kendrick Lamar EP<\/em>, released 9 months\u00a0before O(verly) D(edicated)**,<\/em> was also available for sale\u2013and was billed as an EP despite having 15 tracks with an hour-long playing time. \u201cI’m trying to change the rules that we\u2019ve been\u00a0confined to\/So the corporate won\u2019t make decisions,\u201d\u00a0he rapped \u00a0on O.D.<\/em>‘s opening number, \u201cThe Heart Pt. 2.\u201d\u00a0It’s a turning point, and the moment Lamar emerged as his own voice: intimate and profane, sharing insight about external dysfunctions large and small through world weary, spoken-word-like flows.<\/p>\n

The tape birthed some hits\u2014\u201cMichael Jordan\u201d and \u201cCut You Off (To Grow Closer)\u201d\u2014but the draw here is Lamar’s artistic puberty. O.D.<\/em> is the culmination of the socially-skewed rhymefests that came before it; the meaning of the title is hidden in the artwork, and the hijacked funk and jazz grooves from his producers lay the blueprint for his later genre-mashing. Six years later, it’s still revelatory, relevant, and forward-thinking.\u2014kris ex<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2010<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Kendrick Lamar: O(verly) D(edicated)<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Future<\/div>\n

56 Nights<\/h2>\n

16<\/p>\n

How many\u00a0drugs can one man suffer through? In the wake of a so-so sophomore album, a high-profile breakup, and the Dubai lockup of his DJ (along with his hard drive), Future guzzled his fair share. Then he spit it back out last year on 56 Nights<\/em>, a short and brutal collection. It\u2019s only 10 songs,\u00a0concise in its gloom.<\/p>\n

56 Nights<\/em> didn’t introduce Future as rap\u2019s prince of darkness, but it sure defined the idea. Take \u201cNever Gon Lose,\u201d\u00a0which starts with Atlanta rapper’s\u00a0declaration that he\u2019s an alien, then continues with the\u00a0assertion that he can do whatever he wants. For many rappers, that would include some kind of posh gluttony. For Future, it’s the ability to \u201cdrink til I pass out, then I wake up and drink up again.\u201d\u00a0Nicolas Cage won an Oscar for Leaving Las Vegas<\/em>, remember? This is kind of like that, except rap.\u2014Matthew Schnipper<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Release Year:<\/strong> 2015<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Future: 56 Nights<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Rick Ross<\/div>\n

Rich Forever<\/h2>\n

15<\/p>\n

Rick Ross became great the moment he forgot he was a pushing-40 former correctional officer, rather than an ageless, continent-ruling drug lord. Therefore, it logically follows that his greatest work is Rich Forever<\/em>, which forgot it was a free 2012 mixtape, rather than a circa-1997 Puff Daddy\u00a0double album.<\/p>\n

The economics of Rich Forever<\/em> don\u2019t make any more sense than Donald Trump\u2019s $35,000 payments to a fictional ad agency called \u201cDraper-Sterling.\u201d\u00a0It\u2019s 20 tracks long, with guest spots from Nas, John Legend, and Drake; Diddy\u00a0himself shows up twice. You can stream it on Datpiff for free, right now. It arguably upstaged the retail album it was supposed to advertise\u20132012\u2019s long-delayed God Forgives, I Don\u2019t<\/em>\u00a0\u2013and its \u201cwhat I say goes\u201d bravado caught anyone who strayed near him; on the chilly summer anthem \u201cStay Schemin,\u201d Drake\u00a0somehow got away with reminiscing about when rap was \u201crugged.\u201d French Montana is credited here with inventing a word he never actually said to describe the process of making something insignificant into something magnificent: a perfect metaphor for Ross\u2019s career.\u2014Jayson Greene<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2012<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Rick Ross: Rich Forever<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Dipset<\/div>\n

Diplomats Volume 1<\/h2>\n

14<\/p>\n

Jim Jones\u00a0once described how expertly Dame Dash\u00a0finessed those early 2000s Universal\/Def Jam\u00a0budgets: during blocked-out studio sessions, he\u2019d set up mic stands in every spare room, lobby, and bathroom, and install developing rappers to record everything they had while the big guys enjoyed the luxuries of soundproofing and engineering in Room A. Dash ultimately doubled Rocafella\u2019s output, leading to a\u00a0flood of mixtapes they could afford to give away.<\/p>\n

So it\u2019s easy to imagine why Jay Z\u00a0felt uneasy when a gaggle of Harlem\u00a0stylistics scored a runaway hit, \u201cOh Boy,\u201d\u00a0that sounded like \u201cHard Knock Life\u201d\u00a0except way harder, and took this 2002 mixtape\u2019s version to radio without asking anyone\u2019s permission. There are stronger tapes in this official Kay Slay\u00a0series, but Vol. 1<\/em> is pivotal as an emblem of the city\u2019s seizure by Dipset Taliban, who proved they could write hits and market them, too, and sound a thousand times cooler than anything State Property\u00a0was doing.\u2014Matthew Trammell<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2002<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Dipset: The Diplomats, Vol. 1<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Gucci Mane<\/div>\n

The Burrprint: The Movie 3-D<\/h2>\n

13<\/p>\n

The first line Gucci Mane raps on The Burrprint (The Movie 3-D<\/em>*)* is, counterintuitively, a Nas\u00a0quote: \u201cAll Nas need is one mic\/All I need is one stove\/Homie got a nice flow\/But Gucci got that white coke.\u201d\u00a0It\u2019s a laughing boast verging at self-deprecation, yet it also hinted at the kingpin status Gucci knew was on the horizon.<\/p>\n

The Burrprint<\/em> (2009) may not be the clear victor of the dozen-plus mixtapes Gucci released between 2008 and 2010; the run was too formidable. It was safer and less compellingly scattershot than Gangsta Grillz: The Movie<\/em>, yet hungrier than the chilly Mr. Zone 6<\/em>. But it\u2019s hard to think of a time when Gucci\u2019s charm permeated so effortlessly into every element of his music\u2013when he balanced pop practicality, eccentric detours (adapting the flow of \u201cTom\u2019s Diner,\u201d for instance), and evocative, hyper-focused rapping so evenly. Gucci never told a story more clearly \u201cFrowney Face,\u201d\u00a0or boasted better and bigger than on \u201cWatch Cost a Bently.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Gucci\u2019s yearlong jail\u00a0stint that winter would be enough to derail his ascension to unequivocal, Wayne-level stardom. Still, The Burrprint<\/em> endures as the document of his peak creativity and a quick-reference dictionary of the lingua franca<\/em> for the trap and psuedo-trap music to follow.\u2014Winston Cook-Wilson<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2009<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Gucci Mane: The Burrprint (The Movie 3D)<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Chance the Rapper<\/div>\n

Coloring Book<\/h2>\n

12<\/p>\n

Chance the Rapper\u2019s third mixtape was gospel rap for the noncommittal masses, warm with youthful optimism and wrapped in the raw essence of Christian ideals. \u201cThis for the kids of the king of all kings\/This is the holiest thing,\u201d\u00a0he rapped on opener \u201cAll We Got.\u201d This year, Coloring Book<\/em>\u00a0found an artist peaking at his most humble, coming into his own as he penned piously about joining hands, reveling in young love, and counting one\u2019s blessings. A colorful cast of characters\u2013Jay Electronica, Justin Bieber, T-Pain, Kirk Franklin\u2013helped deliver his gospel.<\/p>\n

Chance hasn\u2019t revolutionized the mixtape, but he\u2019s stumped heavily for the format, including seeking to legitimize it with Grammys. His commitment is endearing, reiterating that music is a labor of love and not a tool of commerce, and Coloring Book<\/em> is his grandest gesture. \u201cAm I the only nigga still care about mixtapes?\u201d\u00a0he asked rhetorically (\u201cMixtape\u201d). Alongside Wayne and Young Thug, he made a case for the transformative power of the medium, making his songs for free and also for freedom.\u2014Sheldon Pearce<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2016<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Chance the Rapper: Coloring Book<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Young Jeezy<\/div>\n

Trap Or Die<\/h2>\n

11<\/p>\n

Yes, there were mixtapes before Trap or Die<\/em>. Yes, there were rappers talking about dealing drugs before Young Jeezy. But they weren\u2019t this. Trap or Die<\/em> arose in 2005 as a sui generis<\/em> manifesto from a fully-formed artist with a mission to expose the peaks and perils of high-level investment in drug trafficking while disrobing pretenders of the same. Again: these were not unprecedented positions, but they felt pathbreaking due to Jeezy’s conviction and frayed vocals. That he wasn’t the best rapper in the world only suffused his damn-near-singular focus with a sincerity that couldn\u2019t be bought.<\/p>\n

Jeezy didn\u2019t present himself as a caricature or a marketing angle, and so Trap or Die<\/em> was wholly dark and often uncomfortable, largely due to his relatable mix of defiance, desperation, and hope. DJ Drama’s contributions\u2013audio watermarks, musical rewinds, and gruff cheerleading\u2013added an air of life-or-death urgency. Trap or Die<\/em> isn’t just a mixtape; it remains an experience that leaves you wizened and scarred.\u2013kris ex<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2005<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Young Jeezy: Trap or Die<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Rich Gang<\/div>\n

Tha Tour Part 1<\/h2>\n

10<\/p>\n

About five months before Tha Tour<\/em> came out, Rich Homie Quan\u00a0didn\u2019t mince words. \u201cThe EP me and Thug [are about to] drop? Hardest duo since OutKast,\u201d\u00a0he claimed in a video interview. \u201cI\u2019m not being funny. I\u2019m not putting too much on it. Hardest duo since OutKast.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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He wasn\u2019t wrong. Tha Tour, Pt 1<\/em> debuted to relatively little fanfare in September 2014, full of promotional drops for a tour that would never materialize. But in many ways, it was the most virtuosic rap record in years. See Young Thug\u2019s cartoonishly technical opener \u201cGivenchy,\u201d\u00a0or Quan\u2019s heartbreaking turn on \u201cFreestyle\u201d: \u201cMy baby mama just put me on child support\/Fuck a warrant, I ain\u2019t going to court\/Don\u2019t care what them white folks say\/I just wanna see my lil boy go to school, be a man, and sign up for college.\u201d\u00a0Tha Tour<\/em>, released under the nebulous Rich Gang banner, was littered with deeply felt moments like this: Thug pushing the outer boundaries of hip-hop vocals, and Quan seeing how deep they could cut.\u2014Paul A. Thompson<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2014<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Rich Gang: Tha Tour, Pt 1<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A$AP Rocky<\/div>\n

LIVELOVEA$AP<\/h2>\n

9<\/p>\n

In comparison to other prominent New York rap cliques, the Diplomats\u00a0were an accessible set. In 2005, they gave an internship to an enterprising high school sophomore with a large birthmark on his face, allowing him to package their mixtapes and eavesdrop on their business conversations. When Gotham\u2019s rap scene started lagging at the end of the 2000s, that former apprentice, A$AP Yams, continued to work a ferocious hustle. On Tumblr, he was fomenting a post-regional movement, imbibing the distinct sounds of Memphis, Cleveland, and Houston. Offline, he met Rakim Mayers, a handsome wannabe rapper with a melodic voice, and saw star potential.<\/p>\n

With Yams\u2019 help, Meyers became A$AP Rocky, and for their first full project, the two plotted a rollout worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster. Splashy videos for \u201cPeso\u201d\u00a0and \u201cPurple Swag\u201d\u00a0dropped over the summer of 2011, racking up thousands of views and creating massive hype for the Halloween\u00a0release of Live. Love. A$AP<\/em>*.* The mixtape delivered on that promise, its melting-pot vibe spiked with distinct Harlem flavor and lacking a single misfire. It remains Rocky\u2019s best project to date, and also endures as a worthy tribute to the visionary Yams, who died of an overdose last year at age 26.\u2014Jonah Bromwich<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2011<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0A$AP Rocky:\u00a0Live. Love. A$AP<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Nicki Minaj<\/div>\n

Beam Me Up Scotty<\/h2>\n

8<\/p>\n

After being discovered by Lil Wayne on T**he Come Up<\/em> DVD series, Nicki Minaj\u00a0was ready to tighten her game. Her previous mixtapes, Playtime Is Over<\/em> and Sucka Free<\/em>, did their due diligence in grabbing our attention, but Beam Me Up Scotty<\/em> (2009) was a giant. The prototype was \u201cI Get Crazy\u201d with Lil Wayne, on which Nicki infused elements of pansexuality and took her aggressive barbs to the next level, highlighting her singularly clever lyrics and showing a nuance that echoed throughout the entire tape. However, Nicki proved to be more than just a purveyor of quick, cheap quips about her competition\u2013especially because she didn\u2019t really have much. A handful of other female rappers were attempting to penetrate rap\u2019s boys-club forcefield, but none had Nicki\u2019s diverse talents.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Years later\u2014despite the great number of wig changes, aliases, beefs, and breakups\u2014Nicki Minaj still channels that same fire from Beam Me Up Scotty<\/em> when she chooses. It\u2019s a huge reason why she can still get the rap cosign while swimming the mainstream\u2013and she isn\u2019t going anywhere.\u2014Kathy Iandoli<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2009<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Nicki Minaj: Beam Me Up Scotty<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Earl Sweatshirt<\/div>\n

Earl<\/h2>\n

7<\/p>\n

For scale: at 16, Bow Wow\u00a0shed the \u201cLil\u2019\u201d\u00a0in his name. Seven years later, a 16-year-old Earl Sweatshirt said, \u201cI\u2019m a hot and bothered astronaut crashing\/While jacking off to buffering vids of Asher Roth eating apple sauce.\u201d\u00a0This cannot be taken casually, cannot be recorded to history as normal: three absurdist scenes and at least a dozen internal rhymes flowed perfectly over two bars, and you barely even heard it because you were trying to figure out why he needed to rap under a hair dryer when he has a Caesar cut. And then, wait, what the fuck were they putting in that blender?<\/p>\n

Teenagers don\u2019t do anything<\/em> as well as Earl Sweatshirt rapped on his debut 2010 mixtape, Earl<\/em>, the final chunk of gunpowder that would fire Odd Future\u00a0across rap\u2019s stratosphere. There are few mixtapes so rewarding at every turn: funny, visceral, true to rap form and exhaustively experimental, at times heinous. It bore the shepherding hand of the group\u2019s de facto older brother Tyler, the Creator\u00a0and foreshadowed the storytelling of a green Vince Staples. \u201cJust watch, I\u2019ma kill \u2019em all,\u201d\u00a0Earl warned, and you haven\u2019t really heard anyone this live since.\u2014Matthew Trammell<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2010<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Earl Sweatshirt: Earl<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

DJ Drama \/ Lil Wayne<\/div>\n

Dedication 2<\/h2>\n

6<\/p>\n

When a rapper \u201cblacks out\u201d on a verse, it\u00a0means they\u2019ve let go of their conscious mind and begun drawing from deeper well water. As metaphors go, it\u2019s intense, with some frightening loss-of-control implications, which is why rappers are usually lucky to \u201cblack out\u201d for the length of a verse, to spit 16 or 32 bars before they end up back in the world of the living.<\/p>\n

Lil Wayne, on the other hand, blacked out for several years straight, on entire mixtapes and albums\u2013and Dedication 2<\/em> was the moment when all the lights went off in 2006.\u00a0He\u2019d worked ceaselessly to get to this point, honing his craft for longer than many rappers have careers\u2013eight years, five studio albums, hundreds of verses. Now, the work stopped seeming like work, and every time he opened his mouth, quotables spilled out like wriggling gummy worms. \u201cGive me something else\/Drama, I\u2019m on fire, man,\u201d\u00a0he croaked in between strafing Diplomats\u2019 \u201cGet From Round Me\u201d\u00a0and Dem Franchize Boyz\u2019s \u201cI Think They Like Me.\u201d\u00a0\u201cBullets like birds\/You can hear them bitches hummin\u2019\u201d\u00a0he cried on \u201cCannon.\u201d\u00a0It seemed like he could hear anything, see anything.<\/p>\n

Dedication 2<\/em> started Wayne\u2019s three-year sprint that would redefine what creativity and lyricism meant in rap, culminating in 2008’s Tha Carter III<\/em>. He paved the way for Young Thug, an artist seemingly raised with the lights on his conscious mind already switched off. Jay Z\u00a0famously eschewed the pad and pen to rhyme from the pages he saw in his mind, but Wayne made the pad disappear completely for an entire generation of rappers.\u2014Jayson Greene<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Release Year:<\/strong> 2006<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Lil Wayne: Dedication 2<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Jay Z<\/div>\n

The S. Carter Collection<\/h2>\n

5<\/p>\n

This is the moment God came down from the mountain. From his emergence, Jay Z was one of rap\u2019s greatest rhymers, the type to wantonly burn down guest appearances and radio station freestyles. But he\u2019d never been pressed enough to make a full mixtape; it just didn\u2019t fit into his image as a reluctant rapper and bona fide hustler with nothing to prove. In 2003, he started feeling some pressure; 50 Cent was proving a credible threat as the world’s top pop-approved, street-certified rapper, and using the mixtape format to do so. Add to that: Jay had some Reebok-branded shoes to sell, a joint tour with 50 to promote, and was peddling rumors of his impending retirement from music.<\/p>\n

The S. Carter Collection<\/em> was a mixtape in the classic sense: there were no radio concessions and Jay avoided his signature brand of soul-bearing, opting instead to spit supremely versed shit-talking over other people’s music. Astounding feats of rhyme and flow happened over Big Daddy Kane\u2019s \u201cYoung, Gifted and Black,\u201d\u00a0Dr. Dre’s \u201cPuffin on Blunts and Drankin\u2019 Tanqueray,\u201d\u00a0and Joe Budden\u2019s \u201cPump It Up\u201d\u2014the latter of which proved so potent, Budden was forced to reply quickly with his own freestyle. It’s the stuff the tape format was made for; Jay, as always, knew how to use its power to amplify his own.\u2014kris ex<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2003<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Jay Z: The S. Carter Collection<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Chance the Rapper<\/div>\n

Acid Rap<\/h2>\n

4<\/p>\n

\u201cBetter bet I\u2019d take that deal\/Gotta watch out for my mother,\u201d Chance said on the intro to Acid Rap**.<\/em> \u201cGet a watch with all that glitters\/Come in clutters\/Different colors.\u201d\u00a0When the Chicago MC released this breakout tape in 2013, labels were beginning to swarm him, and he seemed open to parlaying the growing buzz into a traditional hip-hop trajectory: make free mixtapes, ink a major deal, start selling music, buy shiny things, become a star.<\/p>\n

Though Chance is most certainly a star now, he ended up taking another route, upending industry expectations just as he was upending musical ones. In light of his hometown\u2019s booming drill scene, which depicted its city\u2019s violence in brutal terms, Chance paid tribute with the hallucinogenic introspection of Acid Rap<\/em>, which properly reintroduced warm live instrumentation and dynamic emotionalism into the discussion. There\u2019s plenty of drugs and recklessness, but it\u2019s grounded by the middle-class MC\u2019s haunted memories of seeing his friend stabbed to death on the streets.<\/p>\n

Acid Rap<\/em> not only solidified Chance\u2019s stature as the most promising Son of Kanye, but it also changed the way many people thought about mixtapes in general\u2014why should they be considered lesser than albums when they were often better<\/em> than albums? Mixtapes, Chance reminded us, are the album\u2019s next evolutionary step.\u2014Ryan Dombal<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2013<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Chance the Rapper: Acid Rap<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Danny Brown<\/div>\n

XXX<\/h2>\n

3<\/p>\n

Danny Brown bet on himself with XXX<\/em>, like the franchise player who takes a one-year deal so he can sign a bigger one later. At age 30, he\u2019d already released a string of mixtapes\u2013some critically acclaimed, some ignored\u2013and been imprisoned. So he took his opus of inspiration, failure, and determination and released it for free in 2011, hoping the world was finally ready for an eccentric lone wolf from a deteriorating city.\u00a0It was. Brown bested years of condescending Detroit poverty porn with a simple hook: \u201cWhere I lived it was house, field, field\/Field, field, house\/Abandoned house, field, field.\u201d\u00a0On closing track \u201c30,\u201d\u00a0a different remembrance leapt through his pained flow: \u201cThe oven\u2019s never closed\/The stove\u2019s never off\/Every winter so cold\/Nigga sleeping wearing scarves.\u201d\u00a0His rhymes emphatically smashed pathos and hedonism together because it was involuntary; he\u2019d spent his life chasing success so his head wouldn\u2019t turn to death. Plenty of great rappers had wrestled with these extremes before, but Brown was god-level in his desperate mania. His kind of confidence came from having nothing to lose.\u2014Matthew Ramirez<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Release Year:<\/strong> 2011<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Danny Brown: XXX<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Clipse<\/div>\n

We Got It 4 Cheap Vol. 2<\/h2>\n

2<\/p>\n

Before We Got It 4 Cheap Vol. 2<\/em> in 2005, rap mixtapes had played many roles: bundles of exclusive verses tracked down one at a time by an enterprising DJ, one-man war campaigns waged against an entire industry, promotional teasers for albums. But they had never been classic albums in their own right. That was the Thornton brothers\u2019 doing.<\/p>\n

Aided by two local rappers named Ab-Liva\u00a0and Sandman\u2014whose rough, booming voices neatly zeroed out their high, narrow ones\u2014and an excitable young white DJ named Clinton Sparks, they rewrote the book on what a \u201cmixtape\u201d meant. At the time, it wasn\u2019t obvious what separated Vol. 2<\/em> from the rest: they did what everyone else was doing, rhyming over other rappers\u2019 instrumentals, trying to implicitly prove with each well-crafted bar that they deserved those connections and industry attention. They just invested more energy, were just better. And they let Sparks, who had his own ambitions in an era of collapsing major label infrastructures, fuss over the sequencing like he was Quincy Jones\u00a0and these freestyles were Thriller<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Eleven years later, despite the fact that it\u2019s composed mostly of beats taken from other albums and is riddled with DJ tags and spoken interludes, Vol. 2<\/em> stands alone. It\u2019s a classic rap album on its own terms you would no sooner dismantle or resequence than you would, say, Mobb Deep\u2019s The Infamous<\/em>.\u2014Jayson Greene<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2005<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Clipse*: We Got It 4 Cheap*<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Lil Wayne<\/div>\n

Da Drought 3<\/h2>\n

1<\/p>\n

On Lil Wayne\u2019s\u00a0most ambitious mixtape, he compared himself to, in no particular order: the Geico caveman, disgraced figure skater Tonya Harding, Langston Hughes, the Loch Ness Monster, and a pack of Orbit gum. The unpredictable shape-shifting played out across more than 100 minutes\u2014in the beats, which drew from different eras and areas of hip-hop, and in the flows, which worked everything from dancehall patois to a bizarro Dave Chappelle impression. Wayne\u2019s temperament was also wild, veering from lovey-dovey to murderous, sometimes in the same verse.<\/p>\n

There were very few guests\u2013though, for many, Da Drought 3<\/em>\u00a0marked the tentative debut of a Young Money upstart named Nicki Minaj\u2013and Wayne served as his own DJ and Greek chorus here, responding with bemused shock to his own threat to take a lame\u2019s head off and send it to his mother: \u201cNow that\u2019s fucked up.\u201d It was a one-man rap clinic, a frenzied evolution of hip-hop\u2019s shit-talking tradition that clearly made its mark on Odd Future, Lil B, and other members of rap\u2019s internet generation. But more than anything, the tape was a burst of pure joy\u2013the sound of a creative giant at the peak of his powers letting his talents roam, a smoked-out genius who sounded just as tickled by the words coming out of his mouth as we were.\u2014Ryan Dombal<\/p>\n

Release Year:<\/strong> 2007<\/p>\n

Listen:<\/strong>\u00a0Lil Wayne: Da Drought 3<\/em><\/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\/9908-the-50-best-rap-mixtapes-of-the-millennium\/<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Lists & Guides The 50 Best Rap Mixtapes of the Millennium From Lil Wayne to Max B to Nicki Minaj, a look at the best free downloads, tapes, and CD-Rs released since 2000 By Pitchfork June 29, 2016 What does \u201cmixtape\u201d mean anymore? In assembling this list, we asked the question again and again, partly […]<\/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-1518945","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\/1518945","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=1518945"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1518945\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1518945"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1518945"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/analyse.optim.biz\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1518945"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}