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We try to stick to one guiding principle when making our best rap verses of the year lists: one verse per rapper. This year was different. Two thousand and twenty-four featured the greatest rap battle of all time—a perfectly fine reason to break our unofficial rule. Kendrick Lamar vs. Drake dominated the first half of the year because both rappers showed up, delivering some of the sharpest raps of their respective careers.
So—spoiler alert—of course they will both be on our best rap verses of 2024 list multiple times. But even as if their battle was the highlight, there was a ton of great rapping across the board, featuring a vast selection of styles.
From Drake and Kendrick Lamar to Earl Sweatshirt and Tierra Whack, here are the best rap verses of 2024 so far.
Latto is a feature killer. Her contributions to Anycia’s anthemic “Back Outside” kicked off the rapper’s year of dominance, capped off by her album Sugar Honey Iced Tea. It’s a relatively short verse, but Latto packs it full of memorable bars about her critiques of her peers (“Hoes talk who wore what first / They don’t ever wanna talk ‘bout a verse”) and her assessment of her own lit status (“I don’t know how to sing, but I’m H.E.R.”). Latto is a fervent supporter of women MCs, both aspiring and established. Revisit her singles and guest appearances from 2022 forward if you’re confused. That said, she’s not afraid to call out her fellow women rappers who are doubters—even if it’s in a roundabout way. “Got auntie hatin’, she burnt,” she rapped assuredly at the top of her verse. Do with that info what you will. —Kiana Fitzgerald
Despite spending almost the entire year behind bars, 2024 was a breakout year for Stockton, California rapper EBK Jaaybo. His rise was fueled by the success of the vicious “Boogieman,” a no-nonsense, no-fluff track that caught fire on TikTok. The rapping here isn’t particularly flashy; its power lies in how direct yet street-coded it is, blending horrorcore elements with regional slang (“Hold on brother chase him, say my name, I pop up like the Boogieman/Fucking the game over, dropping bangers with no hooks again”’). It’s the kind of meat-and-potatoes gangsta rap that sticks to your ribs. —Dimas Sanfiorenzo
The English language is confusing and filled with a lot of unnecessary grammatical rules, but JID uses that to his advantage to find endless creative ways to break and bend them to his will. “30 Freestyle” is a maelstrom of metaphors and similes seasoned with extended tail rhymes that continue to prove why he’s one of the best rappers out right now. “Drop a tape before the album, most of you lost taste/ But I’m sniffin’ like a hound for a scent of the lost greats/ Trying to figure out if I’m really him or a fraud, fake/ He gon’ find a way either in the game or God’s gates,” he raps, switching from speaking in first and third person while simultaneously asserting his dominance in the game. JID knows how to feed his fans, and his verse on “30 Freestyle” is the perfect platter of wordplay that fits their taste. —Jordan Rose
Verse: 2
When Mach-Hommy is at his best he spits with the wisdom of someone who has lived five lifetimes already, and on the second verse of “SONJE” the mysteriously masked-up rap philosopher, floats across elegant topsy-turvy keys and glistening synths with sharp lyrics that remind us of the everyday hustle that underpins his otherworldly intellect.
With a loving reference to Big Pun’s famous line about packing-a-mack-in-the-back-of-the-Ac, and another hyper-confident bar about how his rap peers are “shook, daddy, about the vocals”, the underground innovator is rapping like the rent is due. He pronounces the words “I ain’t no local yokel” with a delicious spite, like an irritated Lord upset that an underling would ever dare doubt how cultured he is. There’s real comfort to his vocal delivery and general aura, which might be a byproduct of having a loyal fan base prepared to spend thousands of dollars on his vinyl. This is Mach-Hommy at the very top of his game: someone who has been “through hell and back,” yet no longer has to “piss for crackers” due to his status as one of American rap’s most dazzling contemporary lyricists. —Thomas Hobbs
Verse: 2
“Two thousand and eleven Bron—I’m feelin’ the greatest without a ring,” Rapsody spits on “Look What You’ve Done,” which perfectly encapsulates her commentary on how her male listenership can’t praise her without simultaneously projecting their expectations onto her. Rapsody is an artist known for smashing the mold that was made for her, and in the second verse of this track, she breaks down the hypocrisy of fans slandering other woman rappers in an effort to praise her. “Support what you like, you ain’t gotta show love using hate my nigga,” she raps, delivering a pointed message that’s not only applicable to her, but to any hip-hop fan who uses their support for an artist as a crutch to tear another one down. —Jordan Rose
On albums, Eminem tends to choose his guest features wisely, seeking out MCs with the dexterity and athleticism to keep up. That’s what makes JID the perfect sparring partner for Em. If “Fuel” was a boxing match, it would be a 10-9 round for the veteran, who throws in about 50 references—from Keefe to Kyle Rittenhouse—and flexes around 100 different flows. It’s an almost dizzying performance, peaking midway with one of the most impressive examples of alliteration you’ll hear in a rap song. (It starts with “Got the most content on the continent” and ends with “Call me ‘Kamikaze,’ I’m concoctin’ this.”) —Dimas Sanfiorenzo
Regardless of the outcome, there’s no denying that Drake turned up the heat with “Push Ups.” The song packs a punch with a barrage of tenacious, slick-tongued bars aimed at, well, everyone. “What’s a prince to a king? He a son, n*gga / Get more love in the city that you from, n*gga / Metro, shut your ho ass up and make some drums, n*gga,” Drake tears off, returning fire on back-handed disses sent from Metro Boomin, Future, The Weeknd, and Lamar. While its “leaked” release raised initial questions of the legitimacy of the track, the final version of “Push Ups” is potent. “How you big steppin’ with a size seven men’s on?” still rings off. Even if Drake fell short to Kendrick, “Push Ups” was a big warning shot for more bars tucked in the vault. —Jon Barlas
Verse: 1
With her back so obviously against the wall, Megan Thee Stallion is pissed-off at all the encircling rap peers using her name for clout, pushing them away with an avalanche of a first verse on “Hiss” that proves she’s just as good at resilient battle raps as she is penning X-rated bangers. There seems to be one overwhelming target for her frustrations, with Nicki Minaj receiving blunt lyrical missiles that touch on everything from her husband’s checkered history as a registered sex offender (“These hoes don’t be mad at Megan, these hoes mad at Megan’s Law”) to Megan’s feeling that the Pink Friday rapper’s bark is much louder than her bite (“Every chance you get / bet your weak ass won’t address me”). This verse famously sent Nicki into a social media spiral,resulting in a diss track that was pretty obviously inferior to “Hiss,” which ended up topping the Billboard 100 and setting the tone for a 2024 where everyone from Katt Williams to Kendrick Lamar felt it was finally time to twist the knife into their outspoken enemies. —Thomas Hobbs
For the last few years Freddie Gibbs has been trending for just about everything other than rap music, with mounting petty beefs and relationship dramas threatening to overshadow a rapping ability fabled producer Madlib once compared to a free-flowing saxophone solo by the legendary jazz musician Charlie Parker. However, on “Back To Me,” the upbeat, bass-heavy highlight from Ye and Ty Dolla $ign’s VULTURES1, Gibbs seems determined to remind the world of his greatness and re-center his narrative. “Just turned a bad bitch to my ex/X like I was Elon” he barks in a precise husky vocal, the rapid breath control immaculate like 1996 2Pac and particularly impressive given his flow only intensifies as the verse progresses. Gibbs is acutely aware that a compelling guest verse on an even a middling Ye project is still capable of leaving an indelible mark on pop culture, and he doesn’t waste his big moment. —Thomas Hobbs
J. Cole’s latest collab with Daylyt follows their previous effort “Pi,” a soulfully introspective cut from Might Delete Later that also featured Ab-Soul. “A Plate of Collard Greens,” released months after Cole publicly bowed out of the Big 3 beef, is J. Cole’s reminder to us all that he’s still one of the best to ever do it. He wants to be celebrated; he wants to be recognized as a major contributor to the hip-hop canon, and he’s willing to put his rhymes on the line to prove it. Cole is still processing the complex life he’s been exposed to, one of envy, wrath, and other sins, and he’s committed to laying those sentiments down on wax for us all to sift through for our own sake. With bars like “gotta channel thoughts ‘cause damn, the cable off, it seems,” J. Cole reminds us that he’s an everyman. He may be one of the most prominent contemporary MCs we have, but he’s still committed to expressing relatable humility. —Kiana Fitzgerald
Verse: 1
The introduction of Kendrick Lamar’s surprise-released GNX, “wacced out murals,” can only be described as tense. It set the tone for the entire project, enticing listeners with its sparse production and gravely serious bars. It sounds like K. Dot is spitting through gritted teeth, frustrated at the fact that he still has to address his opps—plural this time. He takes stock of the love and hate that swirls around him at any given moment, including a mention of his titular whacked-out mural in Compton. “I kill ‘em all before I let ‘em kill my joy,” he raps, seemingly predicting that we might see what he’s truly capable of, if he’s pushed to the brink. There’s an entire bar that’s completely muted here, which can only mean that Kendrick said something even he thought was too incendiary. He never mentions his No. 1 adversary Drake by name, but Kendrick isn’t just focused on him anymore. It’s K. Dot against the world. —Kiana Fitzgerald
At the top of the year, Tierra Whack released her official debut album, World Wide Whack. The album features some of the most introspective music of her career, with the rapper detailing her various fights with depression. There’s not a lot of moments of bravado on the album. This is why her appearance on Chief Keef’s Almighty So 2 is so impactful. Tierra makes her case for best rapper alive, coming through like a Tasmanian Devil over Sosa’s demented church bells. She raps: “These rappers are food and that’s why I be cookin’/You can’t pull no strings and I just keep it pushin’/B-I-G, but I was not born in Brooklyn/I treat ’em like cushion, I denied instruction I beat the beat up like it deserve a whoopin’.” Let’s get an entire album of these, please. —Dimas Sanfiorenzo
Verse: 2
Ka, passed away back in October, was one of the most gracious rappers. If you ever had the pleasure of meeting him, he always greeted you with a wide, gregarious smile—an expression that sharply contrasted with the dark themes of his music. He was quick to shout out those who inspired him, and his taste wasn’t stuffy. He had love for a wide spectrum of rappers, from Lucki to Max B to Retch.
So, it’s all the more striking to hear a verse like the second one on “Bread, Wine, Body, Blood”, where he details what he sees as the hollowness of mainstream rap:“Then it’s gun this, gang that, son, the most profane rap / It’s just a lot of bored noise that got our boys layin’ flat,” he raps on the song.
The track marks a departure from Ka’s usual focus on societal ills—or in the case of The Thief Next to Jesus, the ills of the church. In many ways, he sees the degradation of the art form as part of the same structural issues: “You wanna hurt, those that do us dirt should be the aim, black FBI and Klan kills your leaders, when y’all gon’ pay ’em back?”
Listen, rappers in their 50s critiquing contemporary rap isn’t exactly novel. But Ka’s lucidity and skill, along with simmering anger presented, makes this one of the standout verses of the year. Even if you don’t agree with the message, you have to admire the skill. —Dimas Sanforezno
Verse: 1
Doechii is 2024’s hip-hop It Girl, and “DENIAL IS A RIVER” was her proper introduction as a gifted storyteller. Inspired by MCs who created the blueprint on how to spin a colorful narrative, like the inimitable Slick Rick, Doechii set out to transform her experiences into a certified bop. Life is often the greatest source of inspiration, so when Doechii tapped into her not-so-fun dating history, she had a wealth of material to work with. Her story, one of being deceived by an alpha-male, straight-presenting partner who had a secret boyfriend, focuses on betrayal and disappointment, but she manages to approach the situation with levity. She raps about her dark memories in a humorous way, almost like she’s reading straight from her diary, with room to reflect. This verse is all truth and honesty—no metaphors, just the very awkward facts. —Kiana Fitzgerald
Appearing suddenly near the outset of DC rapper El Costeau’s almost featureless, spectacular Merci, Non Merci, Earl Sweatshirt’s 40 seconds on “Word2LiveBy” immediately captivated the internet when the track dropped in the fall. Over Coca Cousteau and Paprob’s production, that turns a snippet of Holly Maxwell’s “Winter Go Away” into an X-Files chase set piece, Sweatshirt is vibrating with an energy we haven’t seen in too long.
It’s Earl so of course we’re not quite in the pocket, but we’re not so far off, loosely tethered to a single rhyming sound and scheme. And again, it’s Earl so of course the pen is razor sharp. Many Americans would say, “I’m not OK but I’m gon be aight” was the bar of the year within this verse of the year, one that hewed closest to articulating exactly what living through 2024 was like.
But I’d choose another, because a moment later, Earl says “Free Gaza” the two words that have been missing from popular rap discourse, by the artists themselves and by rap media, if not rap’s fans, for well over a brutal, horrific year. It is hardly the strongly worded statement of political conviction the moment demands…but it’s a start. Rappers would be wise to pay attention to how that simple acknowledgement resonated with a digital body politic desperate for common sense representation. —Abe Beame
Verse: 4
Art isn’t always meant to be easily deciphered, and Tyler, the Creator’s fourth verse on “Take Your Mask Off” is clear evidence of that. Speculation about the target of his pointed bars have run wild since the song debuted, but there’s still no clarification on the true subject. Many have guessed, or maybe assumed, that Tyler is talking to himself at an unspecified point in his career. Lyrics like “your respect won’t get given till we posting your death” sound the alarm about his views of his trajectory and his place amongst the hip-hop greats. On the outside looking in, Tyler has deservedly had an ample amount of success—but as much as he hypes himself up, he’s never truly been satisfied with what he has. Tyler, the Creator is ambition personified, and this verse reveals the fears and self-critiques that live within him, hiding just beneath his boisterous confidence. —Kiana Fitzgerald
Verse: 1
Behind Kendrick Lamar’s calm exterior is a rap maniac with a petty hatred for Drake and a pension to take out his frustrations with bars, and “Euphoria” is the perfect outlet for that expression. While “Not Like Us” deserves the credit for being the song that put the nail in Drake’s coffin, the extended first verse of “Euphoria” is what really marks the beginning of the end for The Boy. Kendrick utilizes several flow and voice switches to really get the point across that he does not like the Toronto rapper. He foreshadows how he was going to attack Drake with pedophile allegations, while also doubling down on being anti “Big 3.” Dot was able to harness his hatred for Drake in the simplest, yet most effective way possible—by just listing it all out there. That first verse from “Euphoria” features the most pointed, funny, and memorable rapping of the year. —Jordan Rose
Verse: 2
Before his beef with Kendrick Lamar reached its epic climax, Drake used his Instagram story to preview the coming action. He used a clip from The Equalizer 2. In it, Denzel Washington’s character, Robert McCall, stares down his enemies with a deadly promise: “I’m gonna kill each and every one of you. And the only disappointment in it for me is that I only get to do it once.” Listening to “Family Matters” verse two, you can’t help but notice a similar bloodlust. Watch the action scenes, you’ll see a similarity in technique, too.
Like McCall, Drake manages to defend himself from enemy attacks while simultaneously delivering kill shots. He dismantles his opponents and their arguments as soon as he introduces them. He skewers ASAP Rocky for being a pretty boy who’s arguably more known for modeling now than music. He treats Metro Boomin like a little brother who’s mad you won’t let him play your PS5. He nods at the inherent absurdity of The Weeknd’s falsetto gunplay. He calls Rick Ross a cop, and he manages to tie that into his micro movie dissing everyone else.
The insults are brutal, and he threads them all with a mean beat switch and his catchiest flow since “Headlines.” Icy and meticulous, it’s the deadly artistry of an assassin at the peak of his craft .—Peter A. Berry
With one fiery verse, Kendrick’s tenacity, directed shots, and iconic ad libs and one-liners (“Prince outlived Mike Jack”) became part of our pop culture lingo. On “Like That,” Kendrick single-handedly annihilated any false idea of a “Big 3.” It’s a monumental moment, one that includes almost a decade of history. Kendrick and Drake have managed to live in each other’s musical universe without having to interact or acknowledge one another. With the first unintentional brick being thrown by J Cole—via his acknowledgment of Kendrick as part of the big three on “First Person Shooter”—Kendrick broke the mounting 15 year tension. “First Person Shooter” might have accidentally started the battle but Kendrick’s now rap history inducted verse on “Like That” completely declared war. —Kia Turner
Verse: 3
In beef, truth isn’t as important as crafting a narrative that’s equal parts plausible and compelling. Through three solo Drake diss songs, Kendrick had pretty much won those departments, but “Not Like Us” was the icy coup de gras. For the third verse, Kendrick distills the cultural appropriation argument, except, unlike others who’ve made the claim, he presents a whole list of people the 6ix God has taken from. “You called Future when you didn’t see the club/Lil Baby helped you get your lingo up/21 gave you false street cred/Thug made you feel like you a slime in your head.” He punctuates it with indelible rallying cry for anyone who’s ever called Drake a culture vulture: “You run to Atlanta when you need a few dollars/No, you not a colleague, you a fuckin’ colonizer.” In a song that’s destined to live as an anti-appropriation anthem, Kendrick, at least for the moment, successfully crystallized the idea of Drake as one of them. —Peter A. Berry
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We try to stick to one guiding principle when making our best rap verses of the year lists: one verse per rapper. This year was different. Two thousand and twenty-four featured the greatest rap battle of all time—a perfectly fine reason to break our unofficial rule. Kendrick Lamar vs. Drake dominated the first half of the year because both rappers showed up, delivering some of the sharpest raps of their respective careers.
So—spoiler alert—of course they will both be on our best rap verses of 2024 list multiple times. But even as if their battle was the highlight, there was a ton of great rapping across the board, featuring a vast selection of styles.
From Drake and Kendrick Lamar to Earl Sweatshirt and Tierra Whack, here are the best rap verses of 2024 so far.
Latto is a feature killer. Her contributions to Anycia’s anthemic “Back Outside” kicked off the rapper’s year of dominance, capped off by her album Sugar Honey Iced Tea. It’s a relatively short verse, but Latto packs it full of memorable bars about her critiques of her peers (“Hoes talk who wore what first / They don’t ever wanna talk ‘bout a verse”) and her assessment of her own lit status (“I don’t know how to sing, but I’m H.E.R.”). Latto is a fervent supporter of women MCs, both aspiring and established. Revisit her singles and guest appearances from 2022 forward if you’re confused. That said, she’s not afraid to call out her fellow women rappers who are doubters—even if it’s in a roundabout way. “Got auntie hatin’, she burnt,” she rapped assuredly at the top of her verse. Do with that info what you will. —Kiana Fitzgerald
Despite spending almost the entire year behind bars, 2024 was a breakout year for Stockton, California rapper EBK Jaaybo. His rise was fueled by the success of the vicious “Boogieman,” a no-nonsense, no-fluff track that caught fire on TikTok. The rapping here isn’t particularly flashy; its power lies in how direct yet street-coded it is, blending horrorcore elements with regional slang (“Hold on brother chase him, say my name, I pop up like the Boogieman/Fucking the game over, dropping bangers with no hooks again”’). It’s the kind of meat-and-potatoes gangsta rap that sticks to your ribs. —Dimas Sanfiorenzo
The English language is confusing and filled with a lot of unnecessary grammatical rules, but JID uses that to his advantage to find endless creative ways to break and bend them to his will. “30 Freestyle” is a maelstrom of metaphors and similes seasoned with extended tail rhymes that continue to prove why he’s one of the best rappers out right now. “Drop a tape before the album, most of you lost taste/ But I’m sniffin’ like a hound for a scent of the lost greats/ Trying to figure out if I’m really him or a fraud, fake/ He gon’ find a way either in the game or God’s gates,” he raps, switching from speaking in first and third person while simultaneously asserting his dominance in the game. JID knows how to feed his fans, and his verse on “30 Freestyle” is the perfect platter of wordplay that fits their taste. —Jordan Rose
Verse: 2
When Mach-Hommy is at his best he spits with the wisdom of someone who has lived five lifetimes already, and on the second verse of “SONJE” the mysteriously masked-up rap philosopher, floats across elegant topsy-turvy keys and glistening synths with sharp lyrics that remind us of the everyday hustle that underpins his otherworldly intellect.
With a loving reference to Big Pun’s famous line about packing-a-mack-in-the-back-of-the-Ac, and another hyper-confident bar about how his rap peers are “shook, daddy, about the vocals”, the underground innovator is rapping like the rent is due. He pronounces the words “I ain’t no local yokel” with a delicious spite, like an irritated Lord upset that an underling would ever dare doubt how cultured he is. There’s real comfort to his vocal delivery and general aura, which might be a byproduct of having a loyal fan base prepared to spend thousands of dollars on his vinyl. This is Mach-Hommy at the very top of his game: someone who has been “through hell and back,” yet no longer has to “piss for crackers” due to his status as one of American rap’s most dazzling contemporary lyricists. —Thomas Hobbs
Verse: 2
“Two thousand and eleven Bron—I’m feelin’ the greatest without a ring,” Rapsody spits on “Look What You’ve Done,” which perfectly encapsulates her commentary on how her male listenership can’t praise her without simultaneously projecting their expectations onto her. Rapsody is an artist known for smashing the mold that was made for her, and in the second verse of this track, she breaks down the hypocrisy of fans slandering other woman rappers in an effort to praise her. “Support what you like, you ain’t gotta show love using hate my nigga,” she raps, delivering a pointed message that’s not only applicable to her, but to any hip-hop fan who uses their support for an artist as a crutch to tear another one down. —Jordan Rose
On albums, Eminem tends to choose his guest features wisely, seeking out MCs with the dexterity and athleticism to keep up. That’s what makes JID the perfect sparring partner for Em. If “Fuel” was a boxing match, it would be a 10-9 round for the veteran, who throws in about 50 references—from Keefe to Kyle Rittenhouse—and flexes around 100 different flows. It’s an almost dizzying performance, peaking midway with one of the most impressive examples of alliteration you’ll hear in a rap song. (It starts with “Got the most content on the continent” and ends with “Call me ‘Kamikaze,’ I’m concoctin’ this.”) —Dimas Sanfiorenzo
Regardless of the outcome, there’s no denying that Drake turned up the heat with “Push Ups.” The song packs a punch with a barrage of tenacious, slick-tongued bars aimed at, well, everyone. “What’s a prince to a king? He a son, n*gga / Get more love in the city that you from, n*gga / Metro, shut your ho ass up and make some drums, n*gga,” Drake tears off, returning fire on back-handed disses sent from Metro Boomin, Future, The Weeknd, and Lamar. While its “leaked” release raised initial questions of the legitimacy of the track, the final version of “Push Ups” is potent. “How you big steppin’ with a size seven men’s on?” still rings off. Even if Drake fell short to Kendrick, “Push Ups” was a big warning shot for more bars tucked in the vault. —Jon Barlas
Verse: 1
With her back so obviously against the wall, Megan Thee Stallion is pissed-off at all the encircling rap peers using her name for clout, pushing them away with an avalanche of a first verse on “Hiss” that proves she’s just as good at resilient battle raps as she is penning X-rated bangers. There seems to be one overwhelming target for her frustrations, with Nicki Minaj receiving blunt lyrical missiles that touch on everything from her husband’s checkered history as a registered sex offender (“These hoes don’t be mad at Megan, these hoes mad at Megan’s Law”) to Megan’s feeling that the Pink Friday rapper’s bark is much louder than her bite (“Every chance you get / bet your weak ass won’t address me”). This verse famously sent Nicki into a social media spiral,resulting in a diss track that was pretty obviously inferior to “Hiss,” which ended up topping the Billboard 100 and setting the tone for a 2024 where everyone from Katt Williams to Kendrick Lamar felt it was finally time to twist the knife into their outspoken enemies. —Thomas Hobbs
For the last few years Freddie Gibbs has been trending for just about everything other than rap music, with mounting petty beefs and relationship dramas threatening to overshadow a rapping ability fabled producer Madlib once compared to a free-flowing saxophone solo by the legendary jazz musician Charlie Parker. However, on “Back To Me,” the upbeat, bass-heavy highlight from Ye and Ty Dolla $ign’s VULTURES1, Gibbs seems determined to remind the world of his greatness and re-center his narrative. “Just turned a bad bitch to my ex/X like I was Elon” he barks in a precise husky vocal, the rapid breath control immaculate like 1996 2Pac and particularly impressive given his flow only intensifies as the verse progresses. Gibbs is acutely aware that a compelling guest verse on an even a middling Ye project is still capable of leaving an indelible mark on pop culture, and he doesn’t waste his big moment. —Thomas Hobbs
J. Cole’s latest collab with Daylyt follows their previous effort “Pi,” a soulfully introspective cut from Might Delete Later that also featured Ab-Soul. “A Plate of Collard Greens,” released months after Cole publicly bowed out of the Big 3 beef, is J. Cole’s reminder to us all that he’s still one of the best to ever do it. He wants to be celebrated; he wants to be recognized as a major contributor to the hip-hop canon, and he’s willing to put his rhymes on the line to prove it. Cole is still processing the complex life he’s been exposed to, one of envy, wrath, and other sins, and he’s committed to laying those sentiments down on wax for us all to sift through for our own sake. With bars like “gotta channel thoughts ‘cause damn, the cable off, it seems,” J. Cole reminds us that he’s an everyman. He may be one of the most prominent contemporary MCs we have, but he’s still committed to expressing relatable humility. —Kiana Fitzgerald
Verse: 1
The introduction of Kendrick Lamar’s surprise-released GNX, “wacced out murals,” can only be described as tense. It set the tone for the entire project, enticing listeners with its sparse production and gravely serious bars. It sounds like K. Dot is spitting through gritted teeth, frustrated at the fact that he still has to address his opps—plural this time. He takes stock of the love and hate that swirls around him at any given moment, including a mention of his titular whacked-out mural in Compton. “I kill ‘em all before I let ‘em kill my joy,” he raps, seemingly predicting that we might see what he’s truly capable of, if he’s pushed to the brink. There’s an entire bar that’s completely muted here, which can only mean that Kendrick said something even he thought was too incendiary. He never mentions his No. 1 adversary Drake by name, but Kendrick isn’t just focused on him anymore. It’s K. Dot against the world. —Kiana Fitzgerald
At the top of the year, Tierra Whack released her official debut album, World Wide Whack. The album features some of the most introspective music of her career, with the rapper detailing her various fights with depression. There’s not a lot of moments of bravado on the album. This is why her appearance on Chief Keef’s Almighty So 2 is so impactful. Tierra makes her case for best rapper alive, coming through like a Tasmanian Devil over Sosa’s demented church bells. She raps: “These rappers are food and that’s why I be cookin’/You can’t pull no strings and I just keep it pushin’/B-I-G, but I was not born in Brooklyn/I treat ’em like cushion, I denied instruction I beat the beat up like it deserve a whoopin’.” Let’s get an entire album of these, please. —Dimas Sanfiorenzo
Verse: 2
Ka, passed away back in October, was one of the most gracious rappers. If you ever had the pleasure of meeting him, he always greeted you with a wide, gregarious smile—an expression that sharply contrasted with the dark themes of his music. He was quick to shout out those who inspired him, and his taste wasn’t stuffy. He had love for a wide spectrum of rappers, from Lucki to Max B to Retch.
So, it’s all the more striking to hear a verse like the second one on “Bread, Wine, Body, Blood”, where he details what he sees as the hollowness of mainstream rap:“Then it’s gun this, gang that, son, the most profane rap / It’s just a lot of bored noise that got our boys layin’ flat,” he raps on the song.
The track marks a departure from Ka’s usual focus on societal ills—or in the case of The Thief Next to Jesus, the ills of the church. In many ways, he sees the degradation of the art form as part of the same structural issues: “You wanna hurt, those that do us dirt should be the aim, black FBI and Klan kills your leaders, when y’all gon’ pay ’em back?”
Listen, rappers in their 50s critiquing contemporary rap isn’t exactly novel. But Ka’s lucidity and skill, along with simmering anger presented, makes this one of the standout verses of the year. Even if you don’t agree with the message, you have to admire the skill. —Dimas Sanforezno
Verse: 1
Doechii is 2024’s hip-hop It Girl, and “DENIAL IS A RIVER” was her proper introduction as a gifted storyteller. Inspired by MCs who created the blueprint on how to spin a colorful narrative, like the inimitable Slick Rick, Doechii set out to transform her experiences into a certified bop. Life is often the greatest source of inspiration, so when Doechii tapped into her not-so-fun dating history, she had a wealth of material to work with. Her story, one of being deceived by an alpha-male, straight-presenting partner who had a secret boyfriend, focuses on betrayal and disappointment, but she manages to approach the situation with levity. She raps about her dark memories in a humorous way, almost like she’s reading straight from her diary, with room to reflect. This verse is all truth and honesty—no metaphors, just the very awkward facts. —Kiana Fitzgerald
Appearing suddenly near the outset of DC rapper El Costeau’s almost featureless, spectacular Merci, Non Merci, Earl Sweatshirt’s 40 seconds on “Word2LiveBy” immediately captivated the internet when the track dropped in the fall. Over Coca Cousteau and Paprob’s production, that turns a snippet of Holly Maxwell’s “Winter Go Away” into an X-Files chase set piece, Sweatshirt is vibrating with an energy we haven’t seen in too long.
It’s Earl so of course we’re not quite in the pocket, but we’re not so far off, loosely tethered to a single rhyming sound and scheme. And again, it’s Earl so of course the pen is razor sharp. Many Americans would say, “I’m not OK but I’m gon be aight” was the bar of the year within this verse of the year, one that hewed closest to articulating exactly what living through 2024 was like.
But I’d choose another, because a moment later, Earl says “Free Gaza” the two words that have been missing from popular rap discourse, by the artists themselves and by rap media, if not rap’s fans, for well over a brutal, horrific year. It is hardly the strongly worded statement of political conviction the moment demands…but it’s a start. Rappers would be wise to pay attention to how that simple acknowledgement resonated with a digital body politic desperate for common sense representation. —Abe Beame
Verse: 4
Art isn’t always meant to be easily deciphered, and Tyler, the Creator’s fourth verse on “Take Your Mask Off” is clear evidence of that. Speculation about the target of his pointed bars have run wild since the song debuted, but there’s still no clarification on the true subject. Many have guessed, or maybe assumed, that Tyler is talking to himself at an unspecified point in his career. Lyrics like “your respect won’t get given till we posting your death” sound the alarm about his views of his trajectory and his place amongst the hip-hop greats. On the outside looking in, Tyler has deservedly had an ample amount of success—but as much as he hypes himself up, he’s never truly been satisfied with what he has. Tyler, the Creator is ambition personified, and this verse reveals the fears and self-critiques that live within him, hiding just beneath his boisterous confidence. —Kiana Fitzgerald
Verse: 1
Behind Kendrick Lamar’s calm exterior is a rap maniac with a petty hatred for Drake and a pension to take out his frustrations with bars, and “Euphoria” is the perfect outlet for that expression. While “Not Like Us” deserves the credit for being the song that put the nail in Drake’s coffin, the extended first verse of “Euphoria” is what really marks the beginning of the end for The Boy. Kendrick utilizes several flow and voice switches to really get the point across that he does not like the Toronto rapper. He foreshadows how he was going to attack Drake with pedophile allegations, while also doubling down on being anti “Big 3.” Dot was able to harness his hatred for Drake in the simplest, yet most effective way possible—by just listing it all out there. That first verse from “Euphoria” features the most pointed, funny, and memorable rapping of the year. —Jordan Rose
Verse: 2
Before his beef with Kendrick Lamar reached its epic climax, Drake used his Instagram story to preview the coming action. He used a clip from The Equalizer 2. In it, Denzel Washington’s character, Robert McCall, stares down his enemies with a deadly promise: “I’m gonna kill each and every one of you. And the only disappointment in it for me is that I only get to do it once.” Listening to “Family Matters” verse two, you can’t help but notice a similar bloodlust. Watch the action scenes, you’ll see a similarity in technique, too.
Like McCall, Drake manages to defend himself from enemy attacks while simultaneously delivering kill shots. He dismantles his opponents and their arguments as soon as he introduces them. He skewers ASAP Rocky for being a pretty boy who’s arguably more known for modeling now than music. He treats Metro Boomin like a little brother who’s mad you won’t let him play your PS5. He nods at the inherent absurdity of The Weeknd’s falsetto gunplay. He calls Rick Ross a cop, and he manages to tie that into his micro movie dissing everyone else.
The insults are brutal, and he threads them all with a mean beat switch and his catchiest flow since “Headlines.” Icy and meticulous, it’s the deadly artistry of an assassin at the peak of his craft .—Peter A. Berry
With one fiery verse, Kendrick’s tenacity, directed shots, and iconic ad libs and one-liners (“Prince outlived Mike Jack”) became part of our pop culture lingo. On “Like That,” Kendrick single-handedly annihilated any false idea of a “Big 3.” It’s a monumental moment, one that includes almost a decade of history. Kendrick and Drake have managed to live in each other’s musical universe without having to interact or acknowledge one another. With the first unintentional brick being thrown by J Cole—via his acknowledgment of Kendrick as part of the big three on “First Person Shooter”—Kendrick broke the mounting 15 year tension. “First Person Shooter” might have accidentally started the battle but Kendrick’s now rap history inducted verse on “Like That” completely declared war. —Kia Turner
Verse: 3
In beef, truth isn’t as important as crafting a narrative that’s equal parts plausible and compelling. Through three solo Drake diss songs, Kendrick had pretty much won those departments, but “Not Like Us” was the icy coup de gras. For the third verse, Kendrick distills the cultural appropriation argument, except, unlike others who’ve made the claim, he presents a whole list of people the 6ix God has taken from. “You called Future when you didn’t see the club/Lil Baby helped you get your lingo up/21 gave you false street cred/Thug made you feel like you a slime in your head.” He punctuates it with indelible rallying cry for anyone who’s ever called Drake a culture vulture: “You run to Atlanta when you need a few dollars/No, you not a colleague, you a fuckin’ colonizer.” In a song that’s destined to live as an anti-appropriation anthem, Kendrick, at least for the moment, successfully crystallized the idea of Drake as one of them. —Peter A. Berry
and integrate them seamlessly into the new content without adding new tags. Ensure the new content is fashion-related, written entirely in Japanese, and approximately 1500 words. Conclude with a “結論” section and a well-formatted “よくある質問” section. Avoid including an introduction or a note explaining the process.
