With Violence Begets Violence, JMT are as vicious and energetic as ever, reminding why they've been able to enjoy such longevity.

Weighing in at a terse 32 minutes in length, spanning eight tracks plus an introduction, the album is a cohesive and methodical offering yet because of the constrained spin time, neither Bishop Nehru nor MF Doom have the space to flex their creative impulses and push the envelope in their respective spheres.

He treats this debut album like a retail mixtape, and the result is a project that picks off from where The Luca Brasi Story left off. Unfortunately, these high points aren’t enough for him here to progress further.

Big Baby D.R.A.M. does have moments where tracks like “Sweet VA Breeze” and “WiFi” easily blend into each other, sounding a bit too similar. But those middling songs don’t really hinder the overall replay value of the album.

The result is tailored toward the stereotypical collegiate definition of "fun," sounding like the soundtrack to a keg party, rather than the "grown and sexy" interpretation of a good time.

Indicud is an at-times very good album, but it’s certainly no 2001. This isn’t because of a lack of ingenuity or creativity on Cudi’s part, but rather because the decision to act as the project’s sole producer didn’t do him any favors.

The album never reaches jaw-dropping levels because the envelope’s never pushed, but that’s not the point. Albert Einstein is about two artists doing what they do best, and for one of them, it’s a return to form.

Pac Div was hoping to achieve a harder sound with GMB, and when it comes to the tongue-in-cheek "Bank," "Sneakerboxes," which features Chip Gnarly & Big Silk, and "Debo," they certainly get there. But it is when they take a more casual approach to their sound, as on "Slow," which sounds like a club anthem lost at a children's party, or the aimlessly catchy "Can't Help It," that they reach heights only attained by Superman.

He’s perfected his lane, but he hasn’t pushed anything forward or changed anything significantly.

It truly sounds like a vintage New York hip-hop album, and it’ll appeal to those still looking for that. On the flip side, the production is so outdated you can’t help but think that these songs have literally just been sitting around this whole time.

Kurupt’s energy doesn’t carry over to every song on Streetlights.

The songs are short, not mixed particularly well and--perhaps due to his untimely passing--feel unfinished. Had X been around to see this album all the way through and hash out some of its rushed wrinkles, it has the potential to have been his best project yet. But as it sits right now, Skins renders itself another opportunity for XXXTentacion's cult-like following to continue enjoying new music.

He puts out so much that there's no filter, and even bright flashes are clouded by curious moments.

This joint LP produces sub-par lyrics, multiple cartoon beats and a whole lot of, "What the hell did they just say?"

Unfortunately, the third installment of the critically acclaimed series fails to excite.

Dirty Gold‘s shortcomings overshadow the shining moments on the album as Haze struggles to find her identity, somewhere between underground rebel and mainstream player.