Seventeen songs for the bo$$ ass bitch in all of us.
Haircut or not, Danny is still making zany rap music for his die-hards.
Despite its terrifying title, the Seattleite’s sophomore offering is actually filled top to bottom with wholesome raps from a fan-turned-rapper.
If the beats are the party than the lyrics are the cops shutting it down early.
Less flex and more dance next time, please and thank you.
On what is technically his “debut album,” the one they call Jeffrey maximizes his rap Rolodex.
But it kinda works…
A solid debut.
Easy swish. A little too easy.
Out of all of today’s “baby” rappers, Keem isn't one to sleep on.
Muzzard on the beat hoe … but it doesn’t really matter.
It's a combo of synths and riddims that serves its purpose whenever it's sunny outside.
The Dipset boss does his thing on the mic, however.
A solid offering but not the classic they're capable of as a unit.
Don’t ever play yourself ... especially making the same album over and over again.
Dope beats, dope rhymes, what more do y'all want?
The only blurred line on the album is the Mason-Dixon.
Rapid fire raps spread across a long-winded track list.
Solid but no cigar.
Catfish Billy admirably stays real to himself but this last Shady offering is more of a catch and release.
The bars are bland, the beats are basic but that seems to be the point.