The best boundary-pushers use parts of their own style to traverse new musical territory. While tracks like “Sooner” are a success, UGLY doesn’t manage to complete the journey.

He’s returned with a slightly updated, less flawed version of 2012’s Pluto.

With the exception of “Me & My Bitch” (a tale of two way infidelity) wedged in between a festive midsection, the Pushaz Ink crew has pieced together a well sequenced and cohesive package with My Krazy Life, but this aspect and his street credibility aren’t enough to win over naysayers expecting an overall greater performance.

The Book of David isn't Quik's finest effort; an album reportedly done in quick fashion, doesn't truly live up to Quik standards. However, it still holds its own in the current field.

While similar in feel to it's predecessor, Pilot Talk, this follow-up is much less commercial in approach. The backdrop, though sometimes redundant, is more intimate, substituting any real peaks of audio genius for a solid, cohesive chilled-out-smoke-and-float ambiance.

Like most projects that get recorded without the guise of a meticulous A&R, Without Warning’s billing never exceeds the expectations of any artist--rapper or producer--let alone offer a glimpse of what allows these individuals to rank amongst 2017 Hip Hop’s most popular figures.

No Pressure is far too busy and easily distracted. ... When Logic just kicks back and shows off his skills, without trying to prove himself to anyone, No Pressure feels true to its title.

Two Eleven, while a well-crafted and produced album, falls short by comeback standards.

A frustrating project that falls short of its composer’s talent.

Longtime fans will enjoy and support the album justly, but it will be understandably missed or ignored by many.

There's nothing to startle about the music or the lyrics and there's little that isn't coated with a whiff of having heard it all before.

More sexual than sensual, King Of Hearts fulfills the bare minimum of love, lust and heartbreak, all the while showcasing Young Goldie's affinity for the female body.

There is little here that challenges the listener — let alone Gucci himself. Your take away from it rests on how willing you are to listen to the ATL pillar cruise-control over particularly predictable soundscapes with lazy bars that make themselves malleable to mainstream playlists and simultaneously unworthy of multiple replays.

Overall, it feels like Last Train to Paris will be an album more tailored to the Pop scene, rather than the Hip Hop audience.

Dillatronic highlights the producer’s grand vision, but in the end, we’re left with pieces of what could’ve been.

With pitfalls and all, Wiley is still going strong as artists come and go.

Libra Scale lacks the sparkle found in Ne-Yo's previous work. Much like "Champagne Life," there is still plenty to celebrate. Toast it up.

Ultimately, fans looking for a solid but not necessarily classic addition to the Infamous Mobb Deep catalogue, should be satisfied with 13.

When his conscious aligns with his songwriting We Didn’t Talk excels. He needs only seek himself and lead by example rather than trip over cliches.

Gunz N Butta has all the makings of a classic Dipset banger, but like many of Cam'ron's albums, suffers from a lack of both direction and editing.

As its own EP, The Re-Up would help provide balance to the pop chart aspirations from last year. But as a tack-on for Roman Reloaded, it plays like a band-aid over a shotgun wound.

Looking to make a convincing splash across the pond, Tempah offers up a hearty sample of talent and charisma with the aptly-titled debut album Disc-Overy.

An indistinct retread of his past work that falters further under self importance and desire for ambition that falls flat.

From a technical standpoint, they're still rough around the edges; a weakness that can be improved over time. More importantly, their hearts seem to be in the right place, which can't be said for many of Animal Farm's peers.

His rapping capabilities are clearly present and his newfound singing abilities hints at some more engaging possibilities down the road. But in order to translate those skills to his listeners, he’ll need to stray from the path already traveled, quit trying to prove himself and blaze his own trail rather than trying to please every rapper dead or alive he clearly wants to become.

Despite some solid songwriting about addiction and mortality, Macklemore’s comeback album still experiences the same struggles with corniness and over-sincerity that torpedoed him from a household name to an afterthought, leading to a mixed bag that’s more admirable than actualized.

Gutter Rainbows is a fairly easy spin, and can go into the listener's steady rotation in a pinch. That being said, this feels a bit like a subdued version of Eardrum.

The 17 tracks that precede Oldie are a hodgepodge of styles and line-ups; they're random in an ineffective way, with crew members seemingly shoe-horned together and the songs rolled out with little thought as to how the mixtape-slash-album plays as a whole.

Through a more respectable body of work--is unlikely to win over any naysayers.

The fact that it’s 22 songs only highlights how disorganized the project is. There are some tracks that I actually like scattered throughout, but none that really compare to the best from his previous projects. His two mixtapes were also similarly eclectic, but these collaborations feel less exciting and more calculated. ... The Big Day will go down as one of the biggest disappointments in rap in recent memory, in no small part because Coloring Book was so great.

Longtime Swollen Members fans likely won’t raise an eyebrow, but the consistent horrorcore references are likely to turn off potential new fans that aren’t down with the macabre subject matter

Common has been delivering solid material for three decades, but this album can be chalked up as a mediocre comeback, not for lyrical ability. Rather, it’s for the lack of soul “by the pound” in the album’s soundscapes. It just doesn’t hold as much weight in his discography.

While the bulk of the songs can’t disguise their rush-job origins, tinges of Trap Boy Magic do spring up from time to time.

Drake feeds his own ego and starves his humility. There are engaging moments scattered throughout, such as the subtle outro to “9” or dvsn’s stellar turn on “Faithful,” but from the content to the execution, Views is strangled by the 6ix God’s own delusions.

The Idol’s soundtrack narrowly avoids disaster thanks to a few good guests and captivating solo performances from its lead, but just like the show, it severely mishandles its women. Lily-Rose Depp has a decent enough voice but instead, she’s relegated to generic pop girl, while Suzanna Son doubles down on the Halsey effect to make her voice stand out.

While the album doesn't necessarily reinvent the wheel, those with mainstream sensibilities that like metaphor-heavy rhymes with a strong dose of social commentary will be pleasantly surprised.

Lace Up is an imbalanced project that fails to establish MGK's grand message. His debut is decent at best.

The title-track to Meek Mill's album has all the makings of a classic opening.... And yet, what transpires on the rest of Dreams & Nightmares is an inconsistency of lyrical ingenuity and thematic execution that will haunt the Philadelphian rapper on his debut.

Ace Hood fails to deliver on Trials & Tribulations, and with four albums under his belt that have produced similar results, no rapper has arguably done so much and so little at the same time

A heavy knock on Church in These Streets lies in its length; at 19 tracks, a few of the hustle-hard anthems, i.e. the lackluster “Hustlaz Holiday” would have better been served for the cutting room floor. And while most of Jeezy’s signature trap sound is enjoyable, the alarm sounds of “God,” are a jolting earsore. Fortunately, moments like this are the exception.

Although he’s far from a punk, the caricature we’ve come to know as Gucci Mane has shed a chunk of his unrepentant hood mentality in favor of a wiser narrator of the trap. Once he fully discovers how to convincingly put that into the music, the world had better brace itself.

There’s not much range here, just an excess of swag, but it’s worth a listen solely for the moments where Carti seems to accidentally stumble upon a wild flow (“Dothatshit!”), or an irresistible infection (“Half & Half”)

Remember Me’s faults definitely hold it back, but it’s still largely likeable and satisfying when it comes to simply being festive West Coast party Hip Hop.

Love & Danger leaves a confusing stain on the veteran's legacy and does little to strengthen the cause of loyalists with a vested interest in his haphazard easily misunderstood art.

The problem is that the album is creatively too safe even when taking on large gambles.

The ambition is commendable but in the process of Ricch trying to slow things down, he’s relegated his lambo to autopilot.

While his long journey has finally paid off, Living Legend lacks it factor to have listeners clamoring for a follow-up anytime soon.

Lukewarm contributions from Doja Cat, The KID LAROI, Roddy Ricch and others can’t help Post Malone get out of the quicksand. He continues to be pulled in an obvious direction of glitzy Hollywood stardom but instead, maintains a chokehold on comfortability.

The LP comes up short in delivering songs that standout amongst his peers. For the most part, Love Sick isn’t going to move the needle for Toliver. Those that were fans before will like this, while others that are apprehensive about him probably won’t start liking him now.

At times tasteful and other times tasteless, Pluto demonstrates a bravado that knows no shame.

At the end of the day, Slime Language suffers from being predictable, which is the last thing you’d ever want or expect from a Young Thug-affiliated project. The lesser-known artists don’t make much of a mark, the more notorious features are the clear highlights, and the project, as a whole, offers nothing to compete with the highs of Beautiful Thugger Girls--let alone the hallucinatory string of releases from 2015.

Aside from its two missteps, Snoop and Wiz's Mac + Devin Go To High School is a surprisingly enjoyable listen.

As it stands, EVOL is nothing out of the ordinary from his past endeavors. With no measures in place preventing from Future releasing new full-length projects, this album could easily be surpassed in a month or two.

Mastermind simply lacks flair.

Instead of creating a new wave, A$AP Rocky has drowned himself in his own ambitions and lost his identity along the way.

Loyal 2 Chainz supporters and casual fans may enjoy B.O.A.T.S. II: #MeTime as functional, turn up music. But listeners that don’t fall into either of those categories would do well picking up more uniform offerings from similar artists.

While convincingly spry, Cali Swag District are unable to outlive the resonance of success that they attained with "Teach Me How To Dougie" as this one-sided affair of party tunes and fairly expendable production rarely impresses.

Although SET IT OFF is a teaser in the right direction, there isn’t enough substance to distinguish him as a solo artist, aside from the good graces he received with the Migos.

When Wale showcases his growth in being able to link his classic skillset with modern content, the album unequivocally succeeds. However, in attempting to placate current mainstream tastes, he falls short of the album being the unique and iconic success of the mixtape that truly launched his career to another level five years ago.

Ultimately, 03 Greedo and Kenny Beats’ Netflix & Deal contains some exciting moments, but otherwise, the short-sighted project that relies too heavily on production and features instead of Greedo’s raw and unbridled ability to tell stories.

The apprentice runs laps around the master throughout the 54-minute overstuffed marathon. Though toxic masculinity is his calling card, there’s only so many times Future can say he’s going to steal my girl without hesitation and I’ll wear it like a badge of honor before it becomes disinteresting.

In a crowd of colorful guests, Scott’s contributions can feel listless. His rapping is more dexterous than ever, but he’s still saying things like “deep in her throat… I’m her favorite beverage.” When Westside Gunn swans into the Alchemist-produced “LOST FOREVER” with “poles in the Rolls/…alligators on the toes,” it makes a decent Travis verse look bland and unfocused.

While there are some highlights on the album, they don't nearly make up for the glaring flaws throughout, the lack of noteworthy lyrics or the redundancy in topics, flows, hooks and beats.

Existing within that world that overlooks lyrical competence or any moral deficiencies, there are enough instances where the veteran’s effortless style starts veering too close to effort-less.

Across the album, there’s a looming question--what makes any of these canned Confessions even remotely Dangerous? If Logic wants to be above commercial Hip Hop, he will have to try a lot harder than this. Scratch that, maybe he should stop trying this hard.

For all of its powerful lyricism, Prisoner Of Conscious is not a particularly dynamic listen.

As a byproduct of a team that has actualized potential for groundbreaking contributions, MellowHigh misses the mark by a wide margin.

B.o.B. has been adamant about his latest album being created organically, yet that doesn't justify the lack of cohesion or quality found on Strange Clouds.

This album is a polished, lateral step with an accompanying barcode for Weeknd’s fans. And outsiders looking to understand his appeal are likely better off downloading the three mixtapes that preceded the album.

What My Own Lane ultimately lacks is a true sense of creative risk from Kid Ink.

At the end of the day, I Am’s overall passable production and flashes of potency and strength keep it afloat for a time.

If only its last few tracks were just as focused and compelling [as "Wake Me Up"]. Lift Your Spirit only suffers when it winds down, as it panders to Blacc’s booming audience.

It’s when Bieber’s honesty feels less-than-honest and the tracks feel less-than-groundbreaking that this album falls short of the heights it should by all means be capable of reaching.

Overall, the album lacks the shine and luster of the previous two Maybach Music Group compilations.

Personality aside, Chris Brown’s ability to succeed artistically at delivering sounds in all three sectors of urban Pop makes this release a great, yet disjointed listen.

His seemingly unshakeable integrity and forthright spirit in music making shrouds Ludaversal in serious tones, marking a stark departure from the Georgia emcee’s status quo, making this one a novel and welcome addition to his catalog.

There’s no number of stars that can save this album from aiming high, falling short, and still somehow being quite entertaining at moments along the way.

When Macklemore deviates from his familiar sound, he gets mixed results.

The headliners don't seem like they're really trying, so even when the other acts are, they're still smothered by their leaders' apathy.

Lacking any cohesion, Kiss The Ring is a series of single tracks that hit or miss.

There is more to Black Rob than "Whoa," but there is nothing that quite lives up to it on Game Tested, Streets Approved.

Though French Montana fits well on "Diamonds," his presence distracts from the youngster's appeal with similarly dull results stemming from rivals Young Jeezy & Rick Ross on "Understand Me" and an updated "3Hunna" respectively. These flaws along with the senseless experimental delivery of "Laughin' To The Bank" water down an otherwise exciting listen for anyone willing to humor Keef's madness.

The heart of the issue with Lip Lock is that Eve hasn’t restored the command she once had, which subsequently allows these new sounds to lead her down a road of uncertainty.

With Selling My Soul, Masta Killa seems to have winged his way through songs that are lazy and conceptually not well put together.

Whether or not listeners make it through all 24 tracks on Funeral, it’s easy to see what Wayne is definitely in his own world. His rhyming remains unlike anyone else in the entire genre and despite this album not being his strongest, you don’t have to go far to find a Wayne quotable that inherently makes one admire his seasoned lyrical dexterity.

In Pieces misses the mark sounding too much like a rebrand for Chloe instead of earnest songwriting.

There are so many interesting, fascinating, and captivating things Yeat does with his voice, but very rarely does that consist of compelling words coming out of his mouth. If he consistently put bars together, this would easily be one of the best albums released this year so far. That’s how good everything else about the record is.

30 tracks is just indigestible and frankly unacceptable, especially with a stark lack of variety. Perhaps it’s a streaming/algorithm strategy or maybe even a way to fulfill his contract with Atlantic Records in attempts to leave the label early; either way The Last Slimeto can’t be enjoyed as a full “project” but instead a half dozen songs scattered across playlists that have the same album cover.

Everything from the production to the subject matter on this new album is frustratingly similar to the first two projects.

The album itself morphs from Dubstep, to R&B, to ballads, EDM, to Pop-Reggae--and that is its biggest achilles heel. It isn't something that other jumping-genre albums couldn't get over if it weren't for the the fact that it suffers from a serious sequence problem.

Black Cocaine is still raw in the right ways.

There’s no creative expansion, just two acts trying to exist in their own worlds simultaneously instead of finding a new and interesting middle ground. Mixing classic Big Boi verses over old Phantogram songs would’ve probably been just as effective.

Man Bites Dog Records assembled a talented array of under-the-radar producers (sans Ayatollah) that crafted a cohesive sound for Vast Aire's unapologetic lyrical griminess. Nostalgic or otherwise, it works for right now.

Regardless of whether his hands are tied creatively to coded lyrics, such as “500 Homicides,” the music undoubtedly suffers as a result. But there are ephemeral periods on Remember My Name where Durk is more illuminative of his world, like “Resume.”

This is Me… Now hears Jennifer Lopez constantly tell fans how great her love life is. She rarely bothers to explain why.

Troy Ave’s self-confidence skews towards myopic arrogance, as high points like “Young King” are practically ruined by intentionally off-key vocal melodies and “Real Nigga” comes off as Maybach Music Group karaoke.

It’s obvious Justin had quite a bit to say but sometimes, some things are just better left unsaid.

What will disappoint Wayne fans on S4TW2 is his predictable beat selection.