The 20 Best Hip-Hop Albums of 2024

After spending much of the year furnishing the zeitgeist with hits that infused New York drill’s melodic architecture with a passion for classic R&B, rap Cassanova, Chow Lee dropped his own distinct body of work. Sex Drive, a contender for the year’s best album cover, builds on the type of so-called “Sexy Drill” bangers he and frequent collaborator Cash Cobain gained notoriety for, all while putting Lee’s penchant for songcraft on display. Tracks like “I’m not really spiritual!” featuring UK rap mainstay AJ Tracey take the absurdist lyricism of Chow and Cash’s Slizzy movement and expand it into something cinematic. Chow downplays his own talents on the song, rapping “I’m not really lyrical,” but it’s a sly misdirection. When it comes to talking about sex, Chow Lee might quietly be among rap’s best storytellers. —Jeff Ihaza

With their debut album #gigi, the 24-year-old musician Skaiwater stretched their arms towards the future, offering sonic textures that linger with repeat listens. Like on the enchantingly subtle “Rain,” released at the start of the year. On the track, Skaiwater treads the seas of heartbreak, riding a syrupy sweet melody that gets blown to bits by drums that don’t come in until nearly a minute into the song, a maximalist explosion capable of refiguring the genre’s most foundational element. #gigi’s runtime is relatively short, at just over 30 minutes, but Skaiwater introduces listeners to an expansive universe that widens what’s possible within hip-hop. —J.I.

Play Cash Cobain perfectly balances silly, sexy, and cool with the trendsetting producer/performer cementing his signature sound marked by basslines full of drama, tittering drill hi-hats, and evocations of decades-old R&B that his legions of young fans might not know anything about. From flipping Tyrese’s “How You Gonna Act Like That” on “Act Like” to foraying into Afrobeats on “Luv It,” his commitment to the bit is commendable – as is the way he cloaks pure horniness in romance. Impressively, when he says things like “I’m tryna eat that pussy like its salmon (sal-mon)…or salmon (sam-en)/That pussy so good, I couldn’t tag my mans in,” it’s more endearing than outrageous. —Mankaprr Conteh 

Mach Hommy’s first new album since 2021’s critically acclaimed Pray for Haiti and Balens Cho (Hot Candles) finds the enigmatic MC effectively subverting just about everything we’ve come to expect in the digital era. The album’s premiere, via an ephemeral virtual listening event, seemed designed to do the opposite of going viral, relying on audience devotion instead of media saturation. This, of course, is by now part of Mach Hommy’s appeal, his steadfast approach to letting the music speak for itself allows him to embody the type of mystique many artists have to generate artificially. As a result, he’s also able to make unique decisions sonically, untethered to any fixed expectations. Like on the record’s titular track, produced by Kaytranada and featuring 03 Greedo. The song is as melodically compelling as any mainstream hit this year and arrives smack in between densely packed raps that cover the broad expanse of Mach Hommy’s biography, plucking sonic influences out of lived experiences. —J.I.

Future released his much-anticipated mixtape, aptly titled Mixtape Pluto, this summer after linking up with Metro Boomin for the two-part rap earthquake We Don’t Trust You and We Still Don’t Trust You. Both records found Future asserting his role as one of the leaders of his generation in rap. With his new mixtape, he successfully reminded listeners of the type of innovation and dedication that he’s built a career on. Mixtape Pluto offers an impressive display of precisely what its title suggests: a distillation of the elements of Future’s early work, which he released at a once relentless pace in the form of mixtapes. —J.I. 

While Megan was a formidable third studio album from the powerhouse Texas rapper, Megan: Act II is the real prize. In a deluxe release this fall, Megan Thee Stallion added a separate “disc” of new music on top of this summer’s release. It lives deep and cozy in a perfect southern pocket. And when the production turns elsewhere – when she spits on top of Far East Movement’s electro-hit “Like a G6” on “Like a Freak” or goes goth a-la Rico Nasty on  “TYG” with metal band Spiritbox  – Megan: Act II is full of the kind of confident, excellent, hard-hitting bars that earned her a posthumous Pimp C verse with Pimp C’s blessing. —M.C.

2024 was a year when many of the rappers we watched come up in the early streaming era started to mature into their sounds. Artists like Denzel Curry, whose album King of The Mischievous South successfully builds on the rapper’s consistency over the near decade of his career. The record finds Curry paying homage to the southern rap sounds that inspired his own musical trajectory. On the standout single “Still In The Paint,” Waka Flocka’s generational hit “Hard in the Paint,” gets tastefully flipped into something distinctly modern, fit for viral clips and mosh pits alike. The track features the fast-rising Atlanta newcomer Lazerdim 700 as well as Bktherula, fitting compatriots for Denzel Curry’s innovative sensibility as a musician. —J.I. 

Tierra Whack inhabits each sonic setting featured on her debut studio album, World Wide Whack, with varied vocal textures. A gooey, nasal droll on the childlike “Imaginary Friends,” barely parted lips on the lethargic “Numb,” and her unconvinced droning of the lines: “You can’t let it get you down / We all got issues” on “Difficult” (a song that literally repeats “living is difficult”). Altogether, these approaches make World Wide Whack perversely fun, a disorienting merry-go-round of despair and uplift, rather than a linear path to victory or failure. Tierra Whack didn’t end things at 27, and neither does her album. “This is the essence [of] the record: the cycle is what Whack goes through in a day, and she’ll do it again tomorrow,” the playbill she distributed to fans and colleagues says, leaving room for the idea — really, the expectation — that living stays difficult but doesn’t kill her, even when it comes close. —M.C.

Recorded over several AirBnB sessions over the past year, Dallas rapper BigXthaplug dropped Take Care in October, not long after releasing The Biggest EP last December. Standout track “2 AM” is a sultry Isley Brothers-sampling ballad that explores a wayward romance, while “The Largest” is an affirming record where he rhymes, “I just got off a tour, finna go on another one / Album done, finna drop me another one.” BigX gets vulnerable throughout the album, too, especially on the aptly named “Therapy Session” and “Lost the Love,” where he rhymes, “Know that I want to check out and just give it up / How I got all these problems? I’m rich as fuck.” Most of the songs on the album are within the two-minute range, give or take, seemingly giving BigX time to vent and hit the next. — Andre Gee

Throughout Sugar Honey Iced Tea, Latto shows that she is the whole package — charismatic, dexterous, and long-prepared to make music that sticks. “Georgia Peach” sounds like heavy, red, velvet curtains parting to reveal a play in three acts, revolving around the streets, the sensuality, and the heart of Atlanta. The jarring beat switch in “Big Mama” makes perfect sense as a transition into the gruesome “Blick Sum,” where Latto is the puppeteer of her gun-toting man. It’s an interesting take on gangster shit from a girlfriend’s perspective, but she goes on to fight her own battles on songs like “Settle Down” and “H&M.” She sometimes even sounds like a disciple of Drake, from the melodic “Big Mama” to the lyrical miracle “S/O to Me.” Yet, unlike the embattled Drizzy, few would reasonably question her authenticity, especially as she reps Atlanta not just as a place that she’s been, but where she’s from. — M.C.

Under the calamity of the Kendrick-Drake rap battle that he so perceptively ducked out of is Might Delete Later, a testament to Cole’s eternal pursuit of greatness and how great he’s gotten along the way. Whether he’s bold and bothered on the ominous “Crocodile Tearz” or casually riding the beat on “Huntin’ Wabbitz,” he flexes an impeccable sense of cadence, wit, and, at his best, humility. “Sometimes I be flyin’ commercial still,” Cole says on “Stickz N Stonez.” “These niggas get rich and become so detached, they music start havin’ that surface feel.” Here, on the other hand, you can hear Cole stretch his limbs across the varied rap styles perfected while staying true to himself, striving and succeeding. —M.C.

Marciology is another excellent collection of Roc Marciano’s one-of-one rhymes over a diverse variety of beats. Roc produced 10 of the 14 tracks on the album, giving himself a broad canvas. The eponymous album opener sounds like he’s creeping through a horror movie, hoping Jason doesn’t spot the gleam from his Patek. “Went Diamond” is quintessential Roc, meshing a lush string chop and shimmering cymbals, while “True Love” gives the album a West Indian vibe. The features on the album mostly do a strong job of keeping up with Roc, especially recent PIMPIRE signee GREA8GAWD on “Larry Bird,” who decrees, “I’ve been nice since Iceberg made history“ during a fiery verse. Roc Marciano has been, too, and now he has one more album to stake his claim. —A.G.

As the title suggests, Dark Times is another dose of songs about Vince Staples taking stock of his Long Beach, California, upbringing. He depicts himself on a wayward road on the track “Black & Blue” with lines like “Buckle the seatbelt, so many want me to crash and die / Who can I call when I need help? / Juggling thuggin’, depression, and pride.” The bulk of the album shows Staples contending with the tumult of his environment, including how his trauma has led to dysfunctional relationships. On album standout “Justin,” he writes a story that steadily builds tension to an anticlimactic ending that brilliantly encapsulates the seemingly omnipotent risk of toiling in the streets.  “I’m 31 by the end of this year, and that’s a big difference from being 17 years old, releasing music for the first time,” he told Rolling Stone in May. “So, if I’m speaking about my life, I want to make sure that I’m retracing my steps and knowing where I came from in a certain regard.”—A.G.

When SahBabii dropped Saaheem in November, with virtually no advance promo, it quickly overtook the rap internet. Over the past several years, SahBabii has established himself as a reliable source of inventive, sonically ambitious raps. Album standout “Viking” is an example of what excited people about this record early on. The song’s rumbling, almost stuttering drums, coupled with SahBabii’s preternatural talent for one-liners like “I give a fuck who like me / Go walk it off, my nigga go hikin’,” made the track an immediate hit. Tyler, the Creator even commented on SahBabii’s Instagram post about the album, writing: “VIKING IS INCREDIBLE.” For his part, Sah is a humble creative. He told Rolling Stone this month that his low-key rollout was less intentional and more a result of being focused on the music. “It don’t be on my mind as much as making the music sound good,” he said. “Even with no promo, what made the shit go up was the music.” —J.I.

When Chief Keef released his mixtape Almighty So in 2013, Obama was still president, and the then-18-year-old Chicago MC was something of a symbol for street violence, viral fame, and rap’s new cacophonous young generation. The tape, while far from a critical darling, solidified Keef, who’d risen to fame with his hit single “Don’t Like,” released when he was just 16, as a moment-defining talent. Fast forward more than a decade, two presidents, and a “vibe shift” later, and Keef, now 29, has begun to age gracefully into an elder statesman of the genre. The long-awaited Almighty So 2, from this spring, is a polished and refined distillation of the sound Keef brought into the mainstream and, especially at this moment, feels like a bold declaration of a changing of the guard. —J.I.

You could say Tyler, the Creator’s latest album, Chromakopia, is something like his version of Kendrick Lamar’s Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, an album where Lamar unpacked the contradictions of his own life, which, up to then, had similarly played a central role in his music and fame. On Chromakopia’s emotional peak, “Like Him,” one of the founding myths of Tyler’s character, that his dad walked out on him, appears to have been more complicated than it seems. “It was my fault. Not him, ’cause he always wanted to be there for you,” we hear Tyler’s mother tell him at the song’s end. As with other superstars of his generation, faced with the shelf life of their own brands, the Tyler we hear on Chromakopia is making an effort to deconstruct some of his own narratives. For longtime fans, it’s an exciting proposition, one that opens up a new world of possibilities.  —J.I.

Shadowbox offers a soulful reflection of Charlotte rapper Mavi’s current life and times. Standout track “Drunk Prayer” feels like the fulcrum of the album as the project’s lead single and thematic anchor. With emotive guitar plucks and vocals from Jordan Ward, Amindi, and Tempest, the composers nailed the warmth of a seventies soul sample as he depicts the pangs of addiction and despair with bars like, “Performed surgery on myself with just a cudgel / I’m more certain about my death than my construction.” He told Rolling Stone in August that the song, like the rest of the album, reflects where he’s been personally, coping with “unstable self-esteem.” The album’s title symbolizes “a trophy case to my failures,” Mavi says. “I wanted people to champion me for being a person who is learning more than championing me because of what they feel like I know or what they’re proud to feel like I know.” —A.G.