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.