Overall this album has some definite stand out tracks: "Not the Only One," "2 Phones," "La Familia" and "Time For That." The rest of the project is not bad, it's just generally underwhelming.

Overall, aside from some promising lines and one, maybe two standout tracks, “Richer Than I Ever Been” is an album that predictably falls short. It simply features too many weak beats backing up bars that often do more to bore than they do to convey a sense of skill or originality.

I fully respect his artistic and creative choices and his right to be his own man and not be defined by his years as a seminal underground rapper. I respect his choices, but I still pine for a Camu Tao we don't hear on this album and that we won't hear ever again. In the end I feel that his potential still went untapped.

Relentlessly preachy music can be just as obnoxious as the relentlessly vapid, but even pop music can offer more substance than this. If this album was a soda, it would be light and bubbly, yet its sugar free nature would make you crave a Mexican soda in a glass bottle instead.

Amusing, yes. Revolutionary? Not quite so much. ... Right now she's doing what sells and it's "Bodak Yellow" all day until her 15 minutes fades away.

Drake breaks no new ground here, and retreads the same tales of love and regret so many times that the songs bleed together. If you just want background music for making love, this is your album. If you want to have your imagination captured by fantastic tales or be taken on an emotional roller coaster, don’t bother. There are no highs or lows here. We’re on medium the whole time.

Until Trey adds another layer to his songs, whether it be humor, empathy or any emotion other than a caveman-like approach to sex; Trigga remains a hollow, if tempting prospect for men that may well woo your woman, but is unlikely to keep your attention after.

Lyrically, let us not sugar coat the situation and pretend that he's some sort of Pulitzer prize winner in waiting. But in conjunction with the upgraded music, 2 Chainz has definitely put more work into his punchlines and it is most welcome.

Quite honestly, Ke$ha is just more fun to listen to, even though Jessie J may ultimately have more career longevity. It's a decent enough album for the teenage dance set though.

The Odd Future fam needs better quality control to stay relevant in 2013 and beyond.

Hotel California fails to deliver on any of the hype it had leading up to its release.

Ed Sheeran is an impressive talent, but his juvenile lyrics and lightweight sensibility make him a tough sell to any one old enough to drink.

Most people will want Wiz to succeed, as he does successfully come across as likeable personality, and even Rick Ross has displayed a genuine hunger to improve, so anything is possible. But this album is, put simply, one that won't make much of an impression, good or bad. And that's the worst kind.

It's nothing we've not heard before.

His album is incredibly well polished, but the gleam of his ice is an illusion, as these diamonds are nothing more than cubic zirconias.

RZA is certainly experimenting on a bunch of tracks, but results are unconvincing.

At the end of the day Mac Miller is without a doubt capable of bringing more to the table than shallow, boring rap. Unfortunately, he doesn't do much to prove that on GO:OD AM.

It certainly doesn't reach the catchy levels of Ross' biggest hits on most songs, but sounds good enough to have been decent album tracks.

All of these guests can be distracting, but Ghostface’s performances are as you’d expect. It’s not quite as precise with the abstract vocabulary, a bit diet-Ghost if you will, but his flow remains sharp and his energy levels are high for a 54-year-old. .... The frustrating thing about “Set the Tone” is I have no idea who it is even aimed at.

The production of South and Lex carry the majority of the hour long album, and I do mean carry, because I doubt I could get through this otherwise. If you can stand a strong absence of talent on the basis of the beats alone then you're probably going to enjoy Ferrari Boyz a hell of a lot.

Jay-Z is trying to come across as brand new, but he only succeeds in looking like an old brand in need of a revamp.

As with every Kanye album, there’s some magnificent production on a majority of “Jesus Is King” courtesy of Pi’erre Bourne, Timbaland and Boogz, among others. ... Kanye just seems like he’s in his own world; disregarding what’s going on around him. Other times, Ye’s writing delves into eyerolling contradictions and ego-driven intentions.

Most poeple probably have those two tracks ["Love Sosa" and "I Don't Like"], and there isn't anything else on here that warrants buying this or taking the time to find a torrent of it.

She's going for Nicki Minaj meets Eminem meets Rihanna on the Tyra show. It feels like a major missed opportunity.

“Hot Pink” doesn’t show an evolution of Doja Cat artistically or musically. The production from the likes of Tyson Trax, Yeti Beats and even the famed Saleem Remi is as slick as her debut, but also just as saccharine as her debut.

It’s difficult to gauge its direction, and it often seems aimless and forgettable, despite some interesting experiments here and there. Overall though, it’s a continuation of their gradual decline since their stellar debut, resembling more a mixtape of half-formed ideas than a cohesive, fully realised project.

This is one to spin a couple of times, then never again.

Not so much a victim of his own success, but an unwillingness to take risks in the name of music.

The hard truth is that “Dope Don’t Sell Itself” takes a tumble down into the same hole of forgettable 2 Chainz albums that has become home to the likes of “Trapavelli Tre’”, “Pretty Girls Like Trap Music”, “Collegrove” and the like. 2 Chainz seems burnt out.

“Don’t Be Dumb” certainly doesn’t feel like something that has been multi-drafted, painstakingly thought out or perfected with time. Instead, it plays like a subpar effort from an artist we have all seen deliver notably stronger work in the past.

There's at least one cringeworthy line in nearly every song.

As fun as R.O.O.T.S. may be for a short while, artistically, this album is almost without merit, with pointless lyrics and over-sampling.

If you can get past the ignorance, this is enjoyable for what it is - an album to be played loudly in your car, with the windows down and a middle finger up to anybody who looks at you disapprovingly.

Of the nineteen tracks on offer here, there are just too many skippables for a Busta Rhymes album. It may not be a proper Busta album, and it may be Busta’s way of sharing the flame, rather than passing the torch (as he so eloquently describes it), but in the context of Busta’s catalog, and the rest of 2023’s hip-hop releases, it frequently disappoints.

From the dance beats to the cross-pollination of guest artists to the old pop samples, Global Warming is a big dumb album that feels so calculated and market-tested that it is not much fun to listen to.

Death Grips have always been a challenging group to listen to, but Government Plates is more migraine-inducing than head-nodding.

Amalgamating these with pop choruses makes the listening experience too scattered and ultimately leads A Moving Picture to stutter from frame to frame, and it doesn't help that the experience bows down to every chart formula around.

Utterly forgettable and insubstantial, No Mercy is a contrived, sputtering guest-filled affair certain to alienate his longtime fans and disappoint those who jumped aboard for "Paper Trail."

Your best bet is to find a website you can listen to snippets of this album on and if one or two tracks strike your fancy, buy those. A whole album of SB's idiotic raps is still too much for one man or woman to take no matter how much better the beats are.

slowthai gained notoriety for being unvarnished in his lyrics over his country’s politics, but that isn’t shown much on the album except for its title. He says there’s “Nothing Great About Britain“, but the same can be said about his debut album, even with the bright spots.

It’s beige, hollow music and that’s what ultimately frustrates your dedicated rap listener because it doesn’t make sense why it’s so damn popular. When you throw the poor writing on top of this, and some real hit-and-miss production into the mix, “Certified Lover Boy” may well be Drake’s worst album.

Minus the niceness of "Manson Murder" and "Hater Love", this should have been a mixtape as it isn't a patch on any of Styles' previous LPs.

In nearly every way, it is downright unremarkable. The Toronto superstar has once again delivered a tiresome and inflated LP composed of 23 tracks, the bulk of which are only successful thanks to the guest features that aid them.

Instead of acknowledging that they perhaps have something unique to offer and trying to put their own twist on rap, the Keys attempt to strip down their sound to fit within hip-hop genre norms--the result being the taming of many gifted rappers whose time would have been otherwise better spent.

Decidedly hit and miss, it's the songs that stray beyond the typical tales of money, sex and cars that are worth returning to.

While the music is consistent and fairly unique in its murkiness, it's not particularly compelling and is a tad stale.

Alias's production merely compounds the record's dense and oppressive aesthetic. The tracks tend to bleed into each other musically, one grainy backing indistinguishable from the next.

Jack Harlow’s attempts at grandiose appeal ultimately fall short on “Come Home The Kids Miss You”. The young rapper fails to inspire or interest and his attempts at grand standing charm are without merit.

Shady XV seems like it was made for: diehard fans of Marshall; and fresh kids who don't know no better. Otherwise, you'll probably have forgotten about the album by 2015, and 95% of the label's energy will soon be diverted to the next Eminem solo LP all over again.

An album that feels more akin to an oddly shaped misfire of a satirical take than it does the latest installation of an ultra-successful series of rap albums.

There's Something 'Bout Kreay is the sound of a record company trying to turn 15 minutes of fame into a career, and spending way too much money in the process.

Whatever made this a substantive and interesting group a decade ago has been completely lost in the process, but if all you care about is dancing and partying then take their word for it.

As a mixtape, it works, but is nothing more than generic New York street rap set to some largely forgettable instrumentals.

All in all this project comes up very short. Lil Wayne is simply not what he used to be, and 2 Chainz leaves much to be desired.

Other tracks, such as "Gave It All I Got" bring a more introspective sentiment to Lil Big Pac, but these are few and far between and still lack quality deliveries and substantial beats to back them.

In 2010 he sounds derivative, uninspired, and starving for a paycheck.

The monotonous lack of infection in his voice is prevalent throughout the album, to the point where it sounds like he loses interest in his own words.

The fact that he duplicates his melodic inflections from previous albums in detail shows just how formulaic his music has become.

He's a hollow rapper with no unique trait or style. He drifts through songs such as "Love You/How I'm On It" and "Young King" with no real concept of flow or knowing when to change tone.

This is just a lot of well produced but unenjoyable noise.

The result is simply not up to par.

For me personally their sound isn't progressive any more--it's regressive.

These are two-minute tracks that largely veer all over the place – cohesion, concept, and artistry go out the window here.

Ice Spice provides very little in the way of significant or substantial thematics on this album and that lacking is certainly felt as her technical ability takes a dive and her beat selection goes down with it. With little to look to on this album, it falls flat on the floor.

Taking into account the fact that there is probably 15-20 minutes worth of actual Kool Keith verses on this release it is completely unacceptable that this is being passed off as a full album.

Much like the Starbucks menu name she goes by, Ice Spice has a product that’s easily digestible, but ultimately throwaway.

It will forever tarnish everything you ever liked about him, as you will suddenly view him as an eccentric crackpot who is more interested in making "Paper Bubbles" than good music.

Beach House EP is cringeworthy, brainless hip hop at its worst.

Every single cliche held dear with the English language appears to have been right-click-Synonymed here.

We get predictable rock-rap joints like "I Need Church" and "Dead Man's Shoes"; embarrassing skits involving Robbie Williams; abysmal jokes at other celebrity targets; saccharin singles like "Lullaby" (which retreads most of "Read All About It") and "Little Secrets"; getting outshone on your own song by the Rizzle Kicks ("Name In Lights"); ripping off The Streets' old shit ("Fast Life"); a surprisingly soulful joint that clearly ended up on the wrong album ("Not Your Man"); the sound of a rapper all but giving up ("Shadow of the Sun") and subsequently ruining dope instrumentals like the title track.

It's hip, it's slick, it's polished, and it's an utter waste of time.

He can literally sleepwalk his way through a Trap House album. He does here.

Boy tries to stretch his simple repetitive beat production style across an entire album and it fails miserably.

This is, quite handily, so much of precisely "what is wrong with hip hop today"--tidily sequenced into an hour of mind numbing idiocy.

It's an album with no direction, no cohesion and a striking lack of energy.

She manages to not get completely steamrolled in her duets with YG and Lil Yachty and even interlocks tightly with Asian Doll on "Affiliated." The problem with the Bhad Bhabie project, of course, was never to teach her how to rap, it was negotiating an acceptable approach to appropriating the cultural codes of rap. And in that regard 15 is the expected embarrassment.

"Occasion" is an abomination by all standards, but that it comes from such a respected entity as Kidz in the Hall makes it even more inexcusable.