With the two-part “Bring Us The Head Of Francisco False,” Ceschi bids us farewell, bringing to a close a solo career that began nearly twenty years earlier. He does so as he always has: exploring disillusionment, with confessions that verge on the unbearable, but also with an unrivalled ability to transcend eras and musical genres, and to deliver one inspiring track after another.
“Nothing Was The Same” is meant to be Drake’s rap album – the one where he invokes the Wu-Tang Clan. The one where, in between bouts of whining about his exes, he sounds at his most combative. But it is also, and above all, his weirdest, strangest and most experimental record: astonishingly shapeless and melody-light for something this mainstream. And, just maybe, his best.
Duality is embedded in the very meaning of IDK’s stage name: his rap is both “ignorant” and “conscious.” On “E.T.D.S.”, however, it is the “I” that takes center stage. Its content is devilish and gangsta. Yet in reality, this faux mixtape- which takes us back to the days of DJ Whoo Kid and G-Unit – is a carefully crafted album, one that does not abandon its urge to preach a moral message.
Welcome to 2025. Welcome to the postmodern era of rap. The era in which it no longer truly calls the shots or sets the cultural agenda. The era in which it has ceased to be the game changer it was for four decades. But also the era in which it remains everywhere – alive, protean, endlessly mutating, and, for those willing to venture off the beaten path, still immensely rich in satisfactions.
Atlanta rapper BunnaB is more than just “Bunna Summa,” the perfect summer anthem for carefree girls having fun in the sun. It’s also the entire album of the same name, especially in its Deluxe edition: a playful, exuberant celebration of female pleasure, sexual freedom, and independence that’s as funny as it is empowering, while making brilliant use of trap music’s oldest tricks.
McKinley Dixon, this is artistry through and through. A jazz-infused musical framework, with real instruments weaving unpredictable flourishes. Lyrics that tell a story, play with layers of meaning, and explore major themes. Guest appearances from artists rooted in other genres, or from the same school of rap. And in the end, an album filled with standout moments and, yes, a touch of magic.
With his sing-song rap delivery, party-oriented themes, and the hit singles “Geto Jam” and “Sweet Potatoe Pie,” Domino represents a key step in the evolution of California gangsta rap toward ever greater smoothness, warmth, and melody. He is the missing link between Snoop Dogg’s debut and Warren G’s first album, even if posterity will remember those two more than him.
Every year, CEO Trayle releases a new edition of his “Happy Halloween” series. The most important is probably that one, in 2020. The one featuring his signature track “OK Cool.” And also the one that runs counter to that breakup song, with a nihilistic, drill-inspired atmosphere, fueled by the rapper’s traumas and by this composite sound that sounds like no one but him.
MexikoDro, the producer who, together with his Beat Plugz colleagues, created plugg, returns to his roots. Stepping up to the mic, he successfully revisits the motivational trap music of its early days. Except that after all these years, that same motivation has changed in nature: the veteran’s aspiration now is to live a sober, ordinary life, harboring no illusions about anything.
This occasional model that is John Glacier has all the hallmarks of a Londoner. Her wide-ranging circle, her music infused with post-punk and electronic influences, her monotone, low-key poetry, and her doubts and uncertainties ultimately have very little to do with rap. Nevertheless, on this compilation album, her formula often proves as haunting as it is seemingly disembodied.
In 2024, the EP “Billy” was R&B for the girls. So in 2025, its successor “Billy2” brings us trap music for the boys. Nothing particularly sensational in the end from this release by Metro Boomin’s protégé and James Blake’s rapper friend. But it is an improvement nonetheless. There’s some “real trap shit” there, as SwaVay himself puts it, with a few well-aimed lines that hit just right.
This is Tyler, the Creator’s dance album. His return to basics, as signaled by a cover that evokes 1980s hip-hop. But as this grotesque, parodic image also suggests, everything very quickly takes on a particular tone – acidic, acrimonious, and atrabilious – with a rapper like him. The sound is funky, but the sharp-tongued provocateur from Odd Future is still very much present.