Mixtapes That Need to Be Added to Streaming Services Next

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I pity the generation of uninformed hip-hop heads who are under the assumption that Harlem is ruled by the pretty motherfucker better known as A$AP Rocky. With all due respect to Harlemite rap legends like Kurtis Blow, Kool Moe Dee, Big L, and Ma$e, the mecca belongs to Dipset—forever. And while 50 Cent is credited (rightfully so) for revolutionizing the conventional mixtape game with 2002’s 50 Cent Is the Future, Dipset’s The Diplomats, Vol. 1 was similarly important. Released at the beginning of 2002, prior to 50 Cent Is the Future’s June release, The Diplomats, Vol. 1 destroyed the demo tape and brought mixtapes to the streets. Over 15 songs, Dipset mixed popular instrumentals of the time (rapping over hits like JAY-Z’s “Takeover” and Carlos Santana’s “Maria, Maria”) with original material (“Oh Boy” and “Come Home With Me”), minting Cam’ron a hip-hop superstar, and fellow Diplomats Juelz Santana and Jim Jones stars-in-the-making.

50 Cent’s 50 Cent Is the Future was a landmark moment for mixtapes. The second of four tapes Fif released between April and October of 2002, Future laid the groundwork for  years to come. While he wasn’t the first rapper to spit over of-the-moment beats, 50 mastered the art of re-doing artist’s hooks and turning them into his own records (particularly on R&B classics like Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good,” Raphael Saadiq’s “Be Here,” Tweet's “Call Me,” among others), establishing the blueprint for which Lil Wayne would soon become a mixtape legend. Once it hit the mixtape circuit on June 1, 2002, 50 Cent Is the Future became the official soundtrack of the summer, which in turn cemented 50 Cent as the genre’s next superstar.

Those who accused Kanye West of “saving all the good beats for himself” (as discussed on The College Dropout closer “Last Call”) were right: Even after giving up a trunkload of his best beats to JAY-Z, who put them to good use on The Blueprint, Kanye was sitting on a handful of masterpieces for his 2003 mixtape Get Well Soon…, which doubled as both a greatest hits compilation of ‘Ye’s best beats for other artists, and a preview of his forthcoming first studio album.

Arriving one year before The College Dropout, the mixtape featured three tracks that would arrive on his debut—the greatest chipmunk soul song of all-time (“Through the Wire”), the first classic of Kanye’s career (“Jesus Walks”), and arguably the most underrated ‘Ye song ever (“Two Words”)—as well as two deep cuts that have been lost to time: “Home,” a John Legend-assisted ode to Chicago, featuring lyrics that were eventually “recycled” or re-used for his smash single “Homecoming,” off of his third album Graduation; and “My Way,” another earworm backed by Kanye’s signature chipmunk aesthetic. In short, the tape marked the moment when the rest of hip-hop realized that the superstar producer had Best Rapper Alive potential.

Entering 2005, Atlanta was positioned to supplant New York as the center of hip-hop. Outkast was coming off its fifth consecutive critically-acclaimed album, 2003’s Speakerboxxx/The Love Below; Ludacris still had hits in heavy rotation from back-to-back No. 1 albums, 2003’s Chicken N Beer and 2004’s The Red Light District; T.I. was firmly established as the King of the South on the heels of 2003’s Trap Muzik and 2004’s Urban Legend; and crunk music was operating at its absolute apex on the strength of Lil Jon & The Eastside Boyz’ Crunk Juice and Crime Mob’s “Knuck If You Buck.”

Alas, the rich got richer. Arriving at the top of ‘05 was an unknown rapper who came from one of Atlanta’s roughest neighborhoods and called himself the snowman: Young Jeezy. After generating buzz on the strength of his 2004 mixtape Tha Streets Iz Watchin, Jeezy dropped Trap or Die, and nothing was the same. We’d never heard a rapper quite like him; at least one who talked so slick with a voice this hoarse. Jeezy’s career-defining mixtape was built on a handful of anthems (particularly “Trap or Die” and “Get Ya Mind Right”) which, in 2005, blasted out of the speakers of every passing Escalade from Atlanta to Detroit. Trap or Die made Jeezy one of the hottest rappers alive, but more importantly, it spoke trap music into existence.

By the spring of 2007, Lil Wayne was operating at the peak of his powers. Over the preceding 18 months, he had released 10 official mixtapes and two studio albums—2005’s The Suffix, Dedication, and Tha Carter II; 2006’s Young Money The Mixtape Vol. 1, Lil Weezy Ana Vol. 1, The Carter Files, The W. Carter Collections 1 & 2, Blow (with Juelz Santana), The Carter #2 Mixtape, Dedication 2, and Like Father Like Son (with Birdman)—while contributing scene-stealing guest spots to numerous hits (among others, “Gimme That,” “Make It Rain,” “Hollywood Divorce,” “You,” “We Takin’ Over”).

Wayne’s creative spurt culminated in May 2007 with Da Drought 3—his magnum opus, and one of the greatest mixtapes of all-time. While jacking beats for mixtapes was nothing new, Wayne took it to a new level by destroying hot instrumentals beyond recognition, notably Beyoncé’s “Upgrade U,” Rich Boy’s “Throw Some D’s,” Mike Jones’ “Mr. Jones,” JAY-Z’s “Dough Is What I Got,” Jibbs’ “King Kong,” and Unk’s “Walk It Out.” Nearly two years after he called himself the Best Rapper Alive, Wayne had finally snatched the title belt—convincingly.

If you’re going to acknowledge 808s & Heartbreak as the turning point at which hip-hop began to wear its heart on its sleeve, at least pay equal credit to A Kid Named Cudi, which arrived five months earlier, on July 17, 2008. In fact, it’s fair to argue that no full-length project influenced rap music this decade—sonically and thematically—as much as Kid Cudi’s first mixtape.

Emotionally raw, paranoid, and melancholic, the tape resonated with adolescents battling teen angst, especially at a time when no rappers were comfortable showing weakness, let alone speak candidly about their anxiety and depression. Cudi wasn’t shy about his demons, though, as he rapped about death and suicide on the Band of Horses-sampled “The Funeral” and album opener “Down and Out,” respectively. Ten years on, hindsight proves that the project helped Kid Cudi become a voice for the millennial generation, which in turn made him an influential figure for a generation of SoundCloud Rap’s sad boy aesthetic.

Three years after appearing in The Source’s “Unsigned Hype” Column in June 2005, Wale emerged fully-formed as a rapper on 2008’s Mixtape About Nothing. Waxing philosophical over Seinfeld samples and go-go production, the charismatic DMV rapper submitted thought-provoking commentary on topics like celebrity and race, the latter of which he broke down in a relatable and believable way on mixtape standout “The Kramer.” And while critics wanted to label Wale a “conscious backpack rapper,” he was too entertaining for it to stick.

Shortly after the dropping the tape on May 30, 2008, Wale became an indie darling, with the internet embracing him as the great rap hope, a welcome answer to hip-hop’s ringtone era. At the time, the hyperbolic claims were reasonable; arriving months ahead of Drake’s So Far Gone, Nicki’s Beam Me Up Scotty, and J. Cole’s The Warm Up, the tape positioned Wale as a leader of hip-hop’s next generation.

As if nabbing guest spots on back-to-back mixtapes from the Best Rapper Alive (Lil Wayne’s Da Drought 3 and Dedication 3) didn’t generate enough buzz for the Southside Jamaica, Queens rapstress, Nicki Minaj displayed superstar potential on her first two mixtapes (2007’s Playtime Is Over and 2008’s Sucka Free), before cementing her status as the hottest female MC in the rap game with 2009’s Beam Me Up Scotty.

Released two months after So Far Gone, the tape proved that Nicki was capable of being as big as fellow Young Money rookie Drake, not to mention the more aggressive and clever wordsmith. Over 23 tracks, she rapped with an arrogance and energy similar to Wayne, going toe-to-toe with her boss on “I Get Crazy.” Their collaboration, just like the entire project, served as evidence that Nicki was capable of penetrating hip-hop’s boy’s club from day one.

At the height of the blog era, Tyler, the Creator wasted no time making enemies on his debut mixtape, Bastard. Within the first 15 seconds of the opening track, the leader of Odd Future introduced the world to the nihilistic, no-fucks-given teenage skate-rats from Los Angeles by making his presence felt: “Yo, fuck 2DopeBoyz and fuck Nah Right, and any other fuck-n***a-ass blog that can't put an 18 year old n***a, making his own fucking beats, covers, videos and all that shit, fuck you post-Drake-ass cliche-jerking, LA-slauson rapping fuck-n***a-ass Hypebeast n***as, now back to the album.”

Just like that, Odd Future was a force to be reckoned with. At the time of its release, in the final weeks of 2009, gangsta rap was a thing of the past. But that all changed with Bastard, as Tyler, the Creator came correct with an hour of demonic rapping that includes tales of coke-snorting and jokes about dismemberment.

Having spent the past 15 years rapping about cars, video games, movies, women, and weed, Curren$y is like the stoner from high school who still dreams of becoming a famous rapper—only he’s a master of his craft. After an unsuccessful stint with both No Limit and Cash Money in the early-to-mid-’00s, Hot Spitta ditched the mainstream and began living the Jet Life.

Since leaving Lil Wayne’s label in 2008, Curren$y has become one of the most prolific rappers of all-time, with a staggering 68 projects under his belt. And while he’s continued to flood the market with high-quality, consistently great material over the past decade, his debut album—which he reminds listeners is not a mixtape, not only in the title but many times on the “The Briefing"—remains his greatest achievement. Released through a deal with Amalgam Digital and produced entirely by Monsta Beatz, This Ain’t No Mixtape marks the beginning of Curren$y’s solo style.

J. Cole's Friday Night Lights was released as his third mixtape in the fall of 2010. The tape is overflowing with ambition, as evidenced by the feverish hunger emanating from tracks like “Before I’m Gone,” “Back to the Topic,” “Premeditated Murder,” and “Farewell.” As such, it’s easy to recognize “The Autograph” as the tape’s victory lap, the lone moment when Cole lets himself relax and bask in his newfound fame. Here is where he finally comes to grips with his place atop hip-hop, reflecting on his rise while looking back at his North Carolina upbringing. In place of dazzling production and mind-numbing lyrics, Cole carries the song on his confidence alone, a characteristic which, as the title suggests, is refreshingly authentic. At the time, no rapper besides Drake was worthy of being considered the face of rap’s incoming generation; but if there was ever a specific moment when Cole threw his name into the conversation, Friday Night Lights was it.

Before his mom shipped him off to Samoa as punishment for bad behavior, the youngest and most fascinating member of Odd Future, 16-year-old Earl Sweatshirt, released his debut mixtape on the Odd Future website in March 2010. If you were born in the ‘90s, thus old enough to remember the music video for the tape’s title track, Earl is etched in your memory forever. At the center of two and a half minutes of debauchery was Earl, spitting much better than we're to hearing from teenage rappers. Visceral, while at times funny, his performance on “Earl” (and the accompanying mixtape) helped usher in a new generation whose style was built on the absurd—only they could rhyme as well as your rapper’s favorite rapper, too.

Critics may have disregarded it as the moment Mac became the talentless face of the hated “frat rap” genre, but for a bunch of high schoolers in 2010 (myself included) Mac’s breakthrough mixtape K.I.D.S. was the soundtrack to the fall of 2010. Songs like “Senior Skip Day,” Knock Knock” and “The Spins” resonated with an entire generation of teens, while budding hip-hop heads connected with lyrical exercises like “Nikes on My Feet” and “Kool Aid & Frozen Pizza.” Released in August 2010, the mixtape showcased an 18-year-old who could rap about anything and everything, all while coming across as relatable and thoughtful.

Right before The Weeknd would drop his masterpiece of a debut mixtape, 2011’s House of Balloons, an unknown singer named Chris Breaux would drop the what-is-now underrated Nostalgia, Ultra. Had an R&B singer ever dropped a mixtape this good before, let alone one that featured pilfered beats in the mold of a hip-hop mixtape? Not even close. As such, Frank Ocean reshaped the music industry by blending the lines of pop, R&B, and hip-hop unlike any artist we’d ever seen before. Across 14 tracks, he hijacked instrumentals from popular hits (MGMT’s “Electric Feel”), iconic bands (Coldplay’s “Strawberry Swing”), and timeless classics (Eagles’ “Hotel California”), and claimed them as his own—as if he was R&B’s answer to Lil Wayne which, in terms of influence, he would soon become.

In June 2011, the splashy video for A$AP Rocky’s debut single, “Purple Swag,” went viral, introducing the rap game to a 22-year-old gold-toothed kid with enormous potential. Two months later, Rocky dropped the excellent “Peso.” Within weeks, the song blew across New York City, earning that pretty motherfucker a level of buzz that no one in Harlem had seen since Cam’Ron’s rise in the early-aughts. When he released his highly-anticipated first mixtape, Live.Love.ASAP, that October, speculation about his potential gave way to concrete proof. The hype was real: Rocky was not only New York’s buzziest rapper, but also one of the hottest MCs in all of hip-hop. Even more, he arrived on the scene as a fully-formed artist, drawing inspiration from hip-hop hotbeds like Houston, Atlanta, New Orleans, and the Bay Area.

Ever since his early days as a teenager freestyling on the street corners of Philadelphia, Meek Mill’s music—hell, his entire persona—has reflected a sense of desperation. As such, it was hardly surprising that he was able to parlay his prolific catalog of underground mixtapes into a record deal with one of the biggest rappers alive, Rick Ross, who signed him to MMG in 2011. After appearing appearing in XXL’s Freshman Class of 2011, Meek had his coming-out party on MMG’s compilation album, Self Made Vol. 1. Released in May 2011, the tape featured Meek’s first two singles, “I’ma Boss” and “Tupac Back,” which put him on the radar. But his potential wasn’t fully realized until that August, when his MMG debut, Dreamchasers, transformed Meek from a ferocious battle rapper into a national star.

For someone on the cusp of superstardom, Meek didn’t steer away from the urgent intensity he’d built his career on. Across 19 tracks, it sounded as if he was rapping for his life, a level of reckless energy that’s apparent on standouts like “House Party” and “Toy Story.” In hindsight, Dreamchasers remains one of the best bodies of work he’s ever recorded, a snapshot of a hungry 24-year-old who waited too long for this moment to waste it for even a second.

Entering 2012, Rick Ross was on an absolute tear. Over the preceding two years, the Teflon Don had positioned himself as one of the best rappers alive on the strength of a trio of excellent projects (Telfon Don, Ashes to Ashes, and Self Made Vol. 1), a handful of bangers (“B.M.F.,” “Aston Martin Music,” “Made Men,” “9 Piece”), and numerous scene-stealing features (“Devil In a New Dress,” “John,” “I’ma Boss,” “Tupac Back”). And yet, the best was yet to come.

Perhaps motivated by the life-threatening injuries he suffered in October 2011, Rozay dropped his magnum opus six days into the new year as a free mixtape. Rich Forever is cinematic, an hour and twenty minutes of luxury rap that mixes his raw energy with drips of disdain. Determined to channel the opulence of his titanic hit “B.M.F.,” the mixtape steered toward domineering Lex Luger-style beats like “MMG Untouchable,” “Yella Diamonds,” and “King of Diamonds,” but left room for lush anthems (“Keys to the Crib”), diss tracks (“Stay Schemin’”), and legendary guests (the Nas-assisted “Triple Beam Dreams”). Seven years on, Rich Forever not only upstaged the commercial release it was supposed to promote—2012’s God Forgives, I Don’t—but also everything that preceded it.

At a time when seemingly every white rapper was a snapback-wearing frat bro, Action Bronson proudly upheld mid-’90s East Coast rap with his second mixtape, Blue Chips. By then, the Bronsolino bandwagon was up-and-running, though it didn’t prevent doubters from claiming that he bit his style from Ghostface. Sure, he sounded like Ghost in terms of his flow and delivery, but his style couldn’t have been more different. A 5-foot-7, 270-pound, ginger-bearded Albanian from Flushing, Queens, Bronson first made noise in underground rap circuits largely because he was a character. Hilarious, with the swaggering confidence of artists like Biggie, he rapped about everything from dirty sex to his food obsession. But Blue Chips is the moment he showcased his true potential as one of the more creative rappers in hip-hop’s next generation.

By 2012, the past 20 years of Chicago’s hip-hop scene had been shaped by conscious rappers like Common and Kanye, and lyrical wordsmiths like Twista and Lupe Fiasco. That all changed in the spring of 2012, when a gun-toting 16-year-old burst from obscurity to signal the arrival of a new generation. Chief Keef’s meteoric rise—from the viral hit “I Don’t Like,” to the Kanye remix to his Interscope deal—began that March with the release of his second mixtape, Back from the Dead.

The tape positioned Keef and producer Young Chop as the descendants of Waka Flocka Flame and Lex Luger. The pair of Chicago teens crafted a sonic atmosphere that was unrelenting, loud, and alarmingly raw. But whereas their predecessors created head-banging anthems, Keef and his go-to-producer delivered a new vibe that’s chilling because it lacks aggression. Of course, it all came together on the tape’s standout, “I Don’t Like,” a chilling anthem stuffed with sounds of gun shots and Keef ad-libs, which marked a paradigm shift in hip-hop.

As soon as you heard “Good Ass Intro,” the soulful opener to Acid Rap, you knew Chance the Rapper’s breakthrough mixtape was going to be his College Dropout. Nearly six years later, it remains just that—a coming-of-age masterpiece from a millennial Chicagoan who grew up on Kanye’s chipmunk soul. Like his idol’s debut album, Chance’s second project is unfiltered gospel rap: joyful, emotional, and genuinely optimistic.

Released one year after Chief Keef had kick-started the city’s drill rap scene, 20-year-old Chance was a beacon of hope for a city ravaged by so many murders that it’d taken on the nickname of “Chiraq.” And while it wouldn’t be wrong to view the tape as his coping mechanism (given that it comes across as cheerful while simultaneously mourning the violence in his hometown) Acid Rap is, more than anything, the bright sound of youthful innocence.

It’s easy to forget how long Travis has been plotting his reign, largely because his ascent has been a slow burn. After signing a deal with Kanye West’s G.O.O.D. Music in 2012, Travis created moderate buzz with his first mixtape, 2013’s Owl Pharaoh, and was named to XXL’s Freshman Class list. But it wasn’t until 2014 that Travis showcased his ability to repackage styles and sounds into something promising. Released in August 2014, his second mixtape Days Before Rodeo resonated in hip-hop’s post-Yeezus world, with its experimental sounds and flows. Backed by moody, hard-snapping beats, the 22-year-old producer-turned-rapper sounded like a mix between Kanye and Kid Cudi, only with a trap rap feel. The tape set the stage for Travis, the auteur.

Give credit where credit is due: Birdman is one of the greatest A&Rs in hip-hop history, and this masterpiece is proof. What kind of shit did he pull to make Tha Tour, Pt. 1 happen? I mean, he actually brought two of the hottest rookies of 2014 (who were signed to different labels, neither of them Birdman’s Cash Money, no less) together for a 84-minute free mixtape. The result: not only one of the best records Young Thug or Rich Homie Quan has ever released, but a certified classic that remains one of the best mixtapes of this decade. Can a tape this good be underrated? Yes. In fact, it is. Across 20 tracks, the electric chemistry between Thug and Quan is palpable, particularly on “Givenchy,” “Flava,” “Tell Em (Lies),” and “730.” and while much of the project may feel too loose (and, at times, inconsistent) that’s the point: the tape captures two brilliant artists at a moment when their respective ceilings were limitless.

In an alternate universe, Future and Ciara are happily married. Baby Future has two younger brothers, Baby Astronaut Kid and Baby Pluto, and Future, the rapper, is washed. Luckily, for rap fans, Ciara broke off their engagement and birthed a nihilistic trap rap classic in the process: Monster. Two months after their breakup, Future released his first mixtape since the lukewarm, Honest. Arriving in October 2014, three days before Halloween, Monster ushered in Future’s dark period. This wasn’t music for happy people; it was joyless, dark and brooding, a self-proclaimed therapy session driven by recreational drugs, lean, alcohol, and weed. Sure, listening to someone spiral out of control—even worse, drawing pleasure from their pain—made you feel equally guilty; and yet, you couldn’t look away, for there were signs of brilliance on tape standouts like “Codeine Crazy,” “Fuck Up Some Commas,” and “Hardly.” Yes, Ciara unleashed a monster, but it’s hard to believe that the rap game isn’t better because of it.

In 2015, Young Thug experienced a year full of confusing stopgaps. In the run-up to the April release of Barter 6, many mistakenly billed the record as Thugger’s proper debut album, before it arrived as a retail mixtape; Hy!£UN35, his alleged first studio album, never saw the light of day after a late-summer release date was announced; and then, after a summer in which dozens of Thugger songs were leaked onto the internet, he dropped Slime Season, a mixtape comprised of previously unheard material and songs culled from the leaks, that September.

And yet, he wasn’t done; on Halloween 2015, Thug delivered Slime Season 2, his third full-length release in seven months. It was smoother, more precise, and superior to anything he’d dropped that year. And while it lacked a stand-alone song as good as Tha Tour, Pt. 1’s “Givenchy,” or one-off singles like “Lifestyle” and “I Know There’s Gonna Be Good Times,” the tape had a handful of songs that were exceptional in their own right, notably the painstaking ballad “Love Me Forever,” the Rich Homie Quan duet “Never Made Love,” and the tape standout “Raw (Might Just).” We may never get a front-to-back cohesive body of work from Young Thug, but Slime Season 2 is proof that we’ve experienced the dizzying highs he’s capable of.