Bout to Blow: 10 Dope New Songs You Should Be Hearing Everywhere Soon

As another year comes to a close, we've got a gang of new records bubbling just below the surface and ready to rise. Like, I dunno, gingerbread? Does that rise? Pick your rising holiday food of choice.

This column has two goals:

1. To use the many tools available to us today to get some idea of what songs were really bubbling with "the people"—in other words, to insert some science into the process.

2. To contextualize that information, because raw numbers in a vacuum would have you thinking an anonymous rapper dropped onto a stellar track was hip-hop's next big rap star when he was more like an empty, tattooed vehicle for a dope beat and a hook.

The post is obviously intended to be somewhat predictive. There's also an element, though, that is cheerleading. Many of these songs might be flourishing in certain markets but could use wider exposure. They're tracks where the metrics suggest some forward momentum, even if the clubs and radio play don't reflect that.

After a harsh decision-making process, we narrowed November 2016 down to the 10 best records you have to know. It's this month's edition of Bout to Blow: 10 Dope New Songs You Should Be Hearing Everywhere Soon.

While G Herbo's latest tape Strictly 4 My Fans is apt to garner most of the attention, Lil Bibby's "You Ain't Gang" deserves a spotlight too, earning nearly 3.5 million YouTube views over three months with aggressive, coiled energy, two-note production, and straight-laced, grizzled approach. There's little unconventional or unpredictable about it, yet it's also expertly executed, its muscular, gray-scale street formalism a welcome contrast with some of the more colorful eccentrics working club and radio records these days. Watching G Herbo and Bibby's styles mature has proven both artists may have some real longevity owning this large-bore lane in their city.

Dance records are seldom so sweet, and the #FallInLuvChallenge is designed to make you "awww." The song, though, is better than its viral components—it goes down so clean one worries it may not actually catch with audiences, its gently chiming production and naive earnestness is as memorable as a puff of smoke. The beat's sighing snares and cool atmosphere give the song a smooth effervescence which stands in complete opposition to records like the aggressive, choppy "Steal Her Man Challenge" of earlier this year.

Tee Grizzley's "First Day Out" hit Detroit like a comet, shooting past 2 million YouTube views in under three weeks. Its rapid success is, in part, about the underlying story—if you follow along through the distorting window of YouTube comments, gossip, and the lyrics themselves, he narrowly evaded two different prison sentences ("I went to trial back to back, bitch, I'm 2-and-0/ State of Kentucky banned me from every jewelry store.") Between his armed robbery bona fides and his on-camera swag, he may remind some of Project Pat, but musically his rap style is more in line with the barreling momentum of Detroit's current street stars, autobiographical tales of a harrowing ordeal he's still living through today, the threat of surveillance and violence around every corner. The song is named, of course, for Gucci Mane's "First Day Out," but it's structured more like Meek Mill's "Dreams and Nightmares"—proving Meek's creative legacy lives on.

Cleveland rapper Ray Jr. has appeared on Bout to Blow previously. Though his record failed to connect as expected, it was evident he had something. His latest single "NozeBleedz" proves my faith was not misplaced, although it's the song's languidly romantic chorus courtesy crooning Cleveland rapper Ripp Flamez that provides the song's real hook. Ray Jr.'s verses, which take on a stop-start Rick Ross quality, feel a little dated—they may have been more at home in the early 2010s. But the power of its lush, yearning Monica sample (1995's "Why I Love You So Much") makes the song connect on an emotional level that make his verse's formal conservatism feel downright respectful.

Moneybagg Yo is a Memphis hardhead who seems liable to follow in the grand Yo Gotti tradition of conquering down-South clubs with a gruff, street-friendly demeanor. He's had a burgeoning following in his home city this year, but "Narley" looks like it could be his breakout record, a slightly melodic see-sawing club record decorated with a heavy layer of adlibs and promises to take all your bitches. It's a pretty catchy, thunderous jam, if a little rough around the edges.

The efforts to mainstream singer-songwriter Yuna—a Malaysian indie pop artist who went from MySpace to a deal with The Fader in 2011—have not completely connected, despite a high-profile collaboration with Usher earlier this year. But the recent push of her song "Best Love" is much more promising. A future stepper's classic, "Best Love" has an easygoing, effortless grace and an arpeggiated '80s R&B groove reminiscent of Kashif. In its sensuous, confident devotion, "Best Love" strikes a similar tone to classic Sade, though Yuna's vocal style is comfortably her own—a welcome alternative to the mere imitation of Mila J's recent "Sweetest Taboo" cover.

Those paying close attention will remember Buddy for 2011's "Awesome Awesome," a Pharrell-produced internet hit that already feels eons old. (For context, it came out five months after Kreayshawn's "Gucci Gucci.") An advantage of being Pharrell's artist, I guess, is that while he's out dropping massive hit records like "Happy" and "Get Lucky," he's making enough money to bankroll your development and eventual re-emergence. "Shine" is the ideal relaunch: sleek, smart, catchy, and inspirational without feeling sentimental; its only downside is that it's the kind of release that creates immediate expectations for a follow-up.

6lack's long presence on the Apple Music hip-hop and R&B lists had a few onlookers looking askance in this era of industry plant name-calling. Unfortunate moniker aside, "Prblms" felt like a reasonably anonymous slab of post-Bryson Tiller R&B with a hip-hop twist, and that his most successful song was a "Perky's Calling" remix called "Ex Callin" felt ominous.

When his tape dropped, folks were surprised to find some fairly strong records in the mix. It remains to be seen if he can truly connect, but some records are undeniable. For fans of classicist pop songwriting, "Gettin' Old" was an obvious highlight, a record which could as easily have been written for a country as singer as a promising new R&B artist. Over a gentle groove, it wears its confidence like a comfortable sweater, fantasizing about a future so satisfying, it stands far apart in an environment of jaded R&B drug addicts numb to their own emotions.

Travis Scott raps on this, or so I've been told. But really, it's a souped-up Gucci Mane and Zaytoven collab, a surprisingly durable exploration of a now-familiar formula. Nothing that's going to break records or change lives, but now that Gucci's appeared on his first No. 1 record (Rae Sremmurd's "Black Beatles"), it's comforting to know it's unlikely to be his only charting appearance.

Controversial, maybe-overwrought hot take: Jeezy's Trap or Die 3is not just stronger than either 2016 Gucci release, but marks a shift in audience preference toward his grim, determined aesthetic and away from GuWop's more madcap, unpredictable one. This is pure mindgarden theorizing, but something about Jeezy just makes sense as Trump ascends to the presidency. The energy of his music feels like a tonal match for a new, more urgent survivalism, a feeling of impending doom and a more purposeful aesthetic end: real-world motivation.

The Obama era inspired Rick Ross' grandiose fantasies, or Gucci Mane's boundless creativity, or Wayne's prodigal skill. Under a rising banner of fascism, though, something about Jeezy's driven, realism-based aggression feels like the best tonal match for our time. "Let Em Know," an easy highlight from the album, feels so inspirational I can practically make out the yet-unreleased music video, which I picture as resembling both Mobb Deep's "It's Mine" video and Michael Mann's Miami Vice, a George W. Bush-era classic. One can practically hear the chopper blades ripping through the beat.