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.

Pop Star Nicki is still going strong so her fans should have nothing to worry about, but those of us who started collecting with the original line should probably just find a new hobby-Mixtape Nicki has been discontinued.

Durk just has no grasp on what he wants this album to be, leading to a project made strictly to appeal to everyone, but satisfying no one.

Jackman. sounds disjointed and dull.

On what is Lil Wayne's ninth studio album, there's very little of the spontaneity you would expect from someone whose calling card is non-written, unrehearsed, free-associative rhymes.

Even if Lil Boat 3 came out in a time without so much surface tension (is such a thing still possible?), it’d still feel sloppy and forgettable. The presence of personalities like Lil Yachty’s should be welcomed, but the execution still needs to be there.

Hardcore Taylor Gang fans will be happy to add this to their collection, but if you're expecting another round of Kush x OJ, this album will probably disappoint you.

Not only are the song structures disappointingly formulaic but the samples picked for the project rank as some of the laziest in recent Hip Hop Years.

Live From The Kitchen is just about the most predictable rap album you could ever listen to.

Violence Begets Violence may not draw too many new fans in, but it will serve to satisfy longtime supporters.

It attempts to do many of the same things [as Kilt II] sonically but falls short of the mark.

Demons Protected By Angels alludes to an artist self-aware enough to acknowledge his flaws, but the passivity of his music suggests he’d rather stew in the toxicity than work through it.

The Meth Lab may be Method Man’s return to solo work, but without a true connection between the tracks the album feels more like a mixtape than an album, a string of songs that range from uninspiring to a reminder that Method Man was once one of Hip Hop’s elite.

While showing progression here, Chris Brown still is quite far from being the best man and artist that he can be. On Royalty, Chris Brown shows what happens when Peter Pan tries to grow up, but loves turning up in the club even more.

In attempting to recreate his peak, he offers some familiar flows but mostly unimpressive lyrics that lean more toward grown-up nursery rhymes than his catchy, skillful couplets of days past.

The protocol for new DJ Khaled albums is as follows: expect nothing, delight in finding a few songs which clear that floor-high bar, tell your friends that Khaled is back, and forget about it for the rest of your life. His most recent effort, Khaled Khaled, falls directly in line with the rest of the world’s most profitable yet forgettable discography.

On the surface, it’s an overwhelmingly average album, and if you were to strip away all the unnecessary intermissions and segue ways, it’d probably venture into plus territory. As it is, however, it’s a futuristic skyscraper of an album that lacks the foundation to keep from collapsing, and the more you buy into his staggering concept, the more likely you are to come away disappointed.

Free Spirit isn’t an outright failure. For it to be a failure, Khalid would have to at least take a few risks.

Doggumentary isn't a frustrating listen because of shortcomings, as many of them that there are; it's frustrating because there are some real glimpses of late-career genius on it that Snoop continues to neglect.

It’s a tepid set of songs that will undoubtedly satisfy his growing fanbase and, if lucky, make a run with the right program directors. For the rest of us, and not by design, Winter & The Wolves leaves you more than a bit cold.

There are no surprises here, no growth shown, but the one thing worth crediting to Gucci and Waka is their consistency – the audience will know what to expect, and as long as that is all that they expect, their expectations will be fulfilled.