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The Best Rapper Alive, Every Year Since 1979 PART 4

The Best Rapper Alive, Every Year Since 1979

The rapper who stole each year, from the first year of recorded hip-hop until now.

BY INSANUL AHMED,DAVID DRAKE,NOAH CALLAHAN-BEVER,CHRISTINE WERTHMAN,ERNEST BAKER,ROB KENNER,FRAZIER THARPE,DAMIEN SCOTT,BRENDAN KLINKENBERG,ROSS SCARANO

1999: JAY Z

CREDENTIALS: 1998's Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life, Vol. 3...Life and Times of S. Carter, guest spots on "Heartbreaker" and "Lobster & Scrimp"

After the banner year that was 1998, Jay Z entered 1999 with his confidence at an all-time high. One lyric sums up his thoughts on the competition: "You got a little flow, that's cool with me...but none of y'all motherfuckers can fool with me."

Hov spent the majority of the year riding off the success of Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life, releasing singles "Money Cash Hoes" and "Nigga What, Nigga Who" from that album. For anyone who (somehow) missed out on Jay's efforts the previous year, both tracks served as excellent confirmation of Jay's rapid ascent. "Money Cash Hoes" had him effortlessly bending syllables over one of Swizz Beatz's most unorthodox beats. "Nigga What, Nigga Who" saw Hov flowing faster than usual, without ever missing a step or compromising his depth.

That summer, he contributed "Jigga My Nigga" to Ruff Ryders compilation Ryde or Die Vol. 1. The best way to describe it in a word? Insane. The same goes for his guest verse on Mariah Carey's No. 1 hit, "Heartbreaker." Even on a straightforward feature about his dalliances with multiple women, the presentation was beyond sharp. His presence was like an insurance policy for any record.

This carried over to the first single for Jay Z's next album, Vol. 3... Life and Times of S. Carter. "Do It Again (Put Ya Hands Up)" was a brash declaration, with statements that added up to: "I'm still here and I'm still better than you." His performance on the record supported this, with a liquid delivery that mirrored the progression of the beat. Hov warned his doubters, "Don't talk to me 'bout MCs got skills." There was no need to after a year of such vast lyrical accomplishments.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: DMX, Eminem, Nas
DMX was still on a tear through the industry, and he captivated mainstream audiences and hip-hop heads alike with his five-times platinum ...And Then There Was X. Eminem made his debut, simultaneously scaring and charming America with his immensely skilled shock raps. Nas dropped two albums in one year. Both were met with mixed reviews but, in retrospect, were still plenty heavy on the deft lyricism on which he based his reputation. Hov may have been in a lane of his own during 1999, but the market was more than competitive. —Ernest Baker

2000: EMINEM

CREDENTIALS: The Marshall Mathers LP, guest spots on "Forgot About Dre" and "Don't Approach Me," three classic singles with "Real Slim Shady," "The Way I Am," and "Stan," becomes most controversial rapper on the planet.

After the immense success of The Slim Shady LP and Dr. Dre's 2001, Eminem was riding high even as he became overwhelmed by the reach of his new found fame. Rather than crack under the pressure, Marshall took some time (and drugs) in Amsterdam, came back Stateside, and released his magnum opus, The Marshall Mathers LP. Even if it hadn't become one of the best-selling rap records ever, the record was still a conceptual masterpiece—with Eminem mixing autobiographical detail and absurdist fantasy to chilling results.

As Em stepped into his prime, he began demolishing verses with an unparalleled tenacity for wordplay: "Sick sick dreams of picnic scenes/Two kids, 16 with M-16's and 10 clips each/And them shits reach through six kids each/And Slim gets blamed in Bill Clint's speech to fix these streets?" The detail was vivid and visceral. "And if it's not a rapper that I make it as/I'ma be a fucking rapist in a Jason mask!" His music hit a nerve on critical, commercial, and cultural levels, aided by his blonde hair and blue eyes (as he'd soon point out), but an undeniable achievement nonetheless.

Singles like “Way I Am” showed Eminem for what he was. An angry white male? Sure. But also the only rapper who could score a massive pop hit by following the words of The 18th Letter. By 2000, white boy or no white boy, you had to give him the mic and let him recite.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Jay Z, André 3000, Ghostface Killah
Jigga may not have released the best albums of his career at the turn of the century (Vol. 3 dropped the closing days of 1999 and The Dynasty dropped 10 months later), but he was fresh off skating to four-times platinum, and he did drop two of his biggest singles ever, "Big Pimpin'"and "I Just Want to Love You (Give It to Me)." His confidence had skyrocketed, and he was looking to assert himself: "Y'all niggaz ain't rapping the same/Fuck the flow y'all jacking our slang/I seen the same shit happen to Kane/Three cuts in your eyebrow trying to wild out/The game is ours will never foul out/Y'all just better hope we gracefully bow out." This was the last time Jay really had one foot in the streets (his infamous incident with Lance "Un" Rivera at the Kit Kat Klub took place in December 1999), so threats like, "No kids but trust me I know how to raise a gun," packed more punch.

Meanwhile, after dropping consecutive platinum classics, OutKast's André 3000 finally enjoyed being one of the Best Rappers Alive. He earned the distinction past his prime, but Andre's shine had previously been overshadowed by massive forces like Biggie and 2Pac—the real culprits behind why OutKast got booed at the 1995 Source Awards. After already selling millions, OutKast gained wider recognition with the release of Stankonia and massive singles like"B.O.B." and the group's first No. 1 hit, "Ms. Jackson." Finally, as Andre assured we would, we listened to what the South had to say.

Back up north in Shaolin territory, Ghostface Killah scored a victory for the floundering Wu-Tang empire with the release of his classic sophomore album, Supreme Clientele. The album was critically heralded though not commercially successful enough to get Ghost wider recognition. But heads took notice as Ghost Deni debuted his non-sequitur rap style that focused more on slang linguistics than easy to interpret rhymes ("Cauliflower hurting when I dumped the trash"). Ghost has shied away from explaining the lyrics, and maybe it's better that way—Supreme is a walk down the halls of modern hip-hop abstractionism. —Insanul Ahmed

2001: JAY Z

CREDENTIALS: 2000's The Dynasty: Roc La Familia, The Blueprint, Jay-Z: Unplugged, guest spots on "Do My" and "Fiesta (Remix)," epic beef with Nas

Where's the love? Until The Blueprint, it didn't seem like hip-hop realized what it had in Jay Z. On Vol. 1, he claimed the city was his, a place where "Niggas pull your card and argue all day about/Who's the best MC, Biggie, Jay Z, or Nas." On Vol. 2, he hit the pop charts, becoming one of the most commercially successful artists in hip-hop and helping to make Def Jam one of 1998's biggest success stories.

But what remained evasive was critical respect. The previous year, Jay Z's Roc-A-Fella label compilation, Dynasty, stood apart, thanks to its heavy use of soul samples. In 2001, the era of Swizz Beats' triton soundclash and Mannie Fresh's technoid textures, Just Blaze, Bink!, and Kayne West helped Jay Z push a new sonic agenda that changed the game.

At the same time that The Blueprint changed hip-hop's musical blueprint, Jay achieved the critical adulation he'd been previously denied. He made that stride explicit throughout: "Reasonable Doubt, classic, should have went triple," he argued on "Blueprint (Momma Loves Me)," and "Do you fools listen to music, or do you just skim through it?" on "Renegade."

The record received 5 mics from The Source, an XXL rating from XXL, and went double platinum, with the lead single "Izzo (H.O.V.A.)" reaching the top 10. It was no longer "Politics as Usual"; instead, he mastered the politics of the game, appearing with the Roots on an episode of MTV Unplugged, a chain banging against the Che Guevara T-shirt on his chest, and claimed the New York throne, vacated since the passing of the Notorious B.I.G. With Nas and Mobb Deep dispatched in a few quick verses on "The Takeover," hip-hop was his.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Eminem, Ludacris, Jadakiss
The closest competition for Jigga came from Eminem, who (very arguably) bested him on "Renegade." The Marshall Mathers LP, released the previous year, was still a sales juggernaut, well on its way to a rare diamond sales plaque. Em spent much of 2001 doing live shows, including his much-reported embrace with Elton John at the 2001 Grammys. He also headlined the Anger Management tour, and he participated in both the Up in Smoke and Family Values tours as well, solidifying his fanbase in both hip-hop and hard rock circles.

Ludacris hit his stride in 2001, following his three-times platinum debut LP with the three-times platinum Word of Mouf. The LP included hit singles "Area Codes" and "Rollout (My Business),"his highest-charting single to that point. He also killed it as a featured rapper ("One Minute Man" for Missy Elliott and "Bia Bia" for Lil Jon). Jadakiss, for his part, was able to parlay a series of incredible singles ("We Gonna Make It," "Knock Yourself Out," and "Put Your Hands Up") into a celebrated solo debut, Kiss tha Game Goodbye. —David Drake

2002: EMINEM

CREDENTIALS: The Eminem Show, 8 Mile Soundtrack, three top five hits, had the best-selling album of the year across all genres

Everything you need to know about where Eminem was in 2002 you can hear in the second verse of "Till I Collapse." He hit the scene in 1999 and became the illest rapper to hold the cordless, so by 2002 his tremendous talent was unquestionable ("You're real and you spit and people are feeling your shit"). So much so he realized he was living through his prime ("This is your moment, and every single minute you spend trying to hold onto it 'cause you may never get it again") and began thinking about his place in hip-hop's pantheon, worried he'd never get the props he felt he deserved. People tend to get caught up in the fact that Em named Redman (Reggie) ahead of Jay and Biggie in his infamous list, but really the most crucial detail is that Em lists himself last. He was as high as he'd ever get but still looking for another hit, on top but still unsatisfied.

Regardless of what ideas were floating around Em's head, he dropped another monster album that year with The Eminem Show. The record didn't top his previous effort creatively but still managed to be one of his more accessible albums (at least for hip-hop heads), which for once pitted his lyrics against a backdrop closer to hip-hop's sonic center—laying bare just how many light years ahead of the average rapper he was.

Yet, that album might not have even been his greatest achievement that year. With the release of the loose biopic, 8 Mile, Slim Shady became an unlikely people's champ, the rap Rocky. The first single to the film's soundtrack, "Lose Yourself," became Eminem's biggest hit ever and one of his best songs. "Lose Yourself" encapsulated what made Em so special. It was a rap song about the physical act of rapping, proving that Eminem was and would always be a rapper's rapper, a true student of Rakim. Yet, thanks to his songwriting skills it was also a massive pop hit and had middle Americans who would otherwise never interact with rap chanting along. There may be unwelcome side effects to that (as seen by the burgeoning number of white rappers), but Em still spread the gospel of hip-hop and did it in the most authentic way possible.

It was only a short while after this that Chris Rock would point out that the best golfer was black, the tallest basketball player was Chinese, and the best rapper was indeed white.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: 50 Cent, Cam'ron, Nas
2002 can also be remembered as the last truly great year for New York hip-hop since all the honorable mentions hail from the Big Apple. After ingesting nine slugs from a 9mm, Curtis Jackson licked his wounds and hit the streets to redefine what a mixtape could be. He became the first rapper to flood the market in a modern way that wasn't really possible (or expected) previously. By the end of the year, he was signed with the best rapper alive, the best thing to ever happen to bootleggers, and he had already proved his soon-to-be unstoppable Billboard prowess with "Wanksta." Suddenly, the title of his mixtape, 50 Cent Is the Future, wasn't posturing. It was prophecy.

Yet the early part of the year belonged to a Harlem rapper known for his unusual affinity for the color pink. Cam'ron joined the Roc and didn't disappoint when he made two huge hits, first "Oh Boy" and then "Hey Ma." The songs gave Cam national exposure, helped score him a platinum plaque for Come Home With Me, and jump started the Dipset movement. (In between he also wrote Purple Haze, as the intro to that album points out.) Finally, following the personal hardship after the loss of his mother and a moment of clarity after beefing with Jay Z, Nas regained the visceral firepower to bring it back to the streets of New York. He continued his path as one of New York's finest with the release of God's Son and its top-notch single, "Made You Look."—Insanul Ahmed

2003: 50 CENT

CREDENTIALS: Get Rich or Die Tryin', back to back No. 1 hits with "In da Club" and "21 Questions," guest spots on "Magic Stick," "We All Die One Day," and "The Realest Killaz," and the merciless destruction of Ja Rule's career

Only one year prior to the release of Get Rich or Die Tryin', no one could have predicted 50's rise. Roc-A-Fella was on top; Cam'ron was rapidly becoming one of the biggest rappers in New York, ready to succeed Jay Z on the back of massive singles "Oh Boy" and "Hey Ma." Jay Z was coming off the most celebrated release of his career and was about to release an ambitious double album. And 50's fellow Queens-repping street rapper Ja Rule was dominating the charts with a series of hip-hop ballads.

50's career, meanwhile, was in stasis; labels wouldn't touch him and thought he was a danger to himself, and more importantly to their bottom line. Columbia was wary before the shooting; songs like "Ghetto Qu'ran," which controversially detailed the history of Queens gangsters ("Don't be surprised/How freely I throw out names of guys who dealt with pies") and "How to Rob," a song-length threat to jack every rapper in the game, had already stirred up controversy. In 2000, 50 was stabbed in a conflict with rapper Ja Rule's entourage. He was shot and survived an infamous attempt on his life that same year. Who knew what other kinds of trouble he could get into? Columbia promptly dropped him, and his debut record, Power of the Dollar, was shelved.

But the labels missed out on what made those songs resonate. As a rapper, 50 was ruthless and fearless. And more importantly, he was both of those things more convincingly than Jay Z, who had begun to make moves toward critical respectability and retirement.

And then 50 Cent began releasing mixtapes. At the beginning of June 2002 came 50 Cent Is the Future; the title was prophetic, and buzz built quickly. It became readily apparent that not only did 50 Cent have a brash street-friendly presence, but he had an ear for melodic hooks. His tapes reinvented pop music for a street audience. Meanwhile, his slurred rap style had a national appeal, which enabled his verses to fit in well with the drawled Southern rappers who had begun to break out in Houston and Atlanta.

Around the same time, a copy of 50's Guess Who's Back? CD—a compilation of tracks recorded during the sessions for the unreleased Power of a Dollar LP for Columbia—found its way into Eminem's hands. Rumors that summer spread; 50 Cent was signed to Interscope for a reported $1 million. Dr. Dre would helm the project. 50 released another mixtape, No Mercy, No Fear, the title of which advertised his selling points. Here was a rapper who seemed part artist, part action hero.

Coming on a wave of hype, Get Rich or Die Tryin' was the most anticipated rap debut since Doggystyle. Released in February 2003, the album dominated the year, becoming one of hip-hop's best-selling albums. By the end of that year, it had gone six-times platinum. It reoriented the entire genre toward street rap's hard edge, spawned a pair of No. 1 singles ("In da Club" and "21 Questions"), and a third that could "only" manage No. 3 ("P.I.M.P."). It also launched the careers of his entire crew, was Grammy-nominated, and became a full-on pop culture phenomenon.

Meanwhile, his long-simmering beef with Ja Rule and Murda Inc. boiled over with the release of 50's "Realest Killas," which explicitly accused Ja Rule of biting 2Pac. Ja had commercial success on his side prior to '03, but at that moment, 50 successfully got under his skin. Ja Rule released a slew of diss tracks in response, culminating in 2003's diss album Blood in My Eye. The album was a commercial flop, relative to his previous releases; 50 Cent's debut, meanwhile, continued to spiral upward, ultimately selling more than eight million copies.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Jay Z, Eminem, T.I.
Jay Z's retirement record, The Black Album, puts him at No. 2 on the list. He boasted that he was the "best rapper alive" at this point, and it was arguable in 2003; but his problem has always been a long-term consistency, and in spite of the top 10 success of single "Change Clothes" and standout guest verses on "Beware of the Boys," "Crazy in Love," and "Frontin," it wasn't enough to compete with the 50 Cent juggernaut.

Eminem, always in contention in this era, released three singles from the previous year's The Eminem Show, two of which charted in the top 20 on Billboard. He also had high-profile collaborations on albums by 50 Cent and Obie Trice, including the incredible posse cut "We All Die One Day."

Finally, T.I. recovered from his debut's flop and built buzz in the streets of Atlanta through a series of mixtapes and the smash underground single "24s." His scene-stealing guest verse on"Never Scared" grabbed the nation's attention, and his comeback LP, Trap Muzik, was released. It sold modestly at first, but in time it has become recognized as a Southern hip-hop classic. —David Drake

2004: T.I.

CREDENTIALS: Urban Legend, the slow burn of 2003's Trap Muzik, Down With the King, guest spots on "Soldier," "Goodies (Remix)," and "Stomp," ends Lil Flip's career

T.I.'s classic Trap Muzik came out in August 2003 and sold modest initial numbers on the strength of the single "24s," which made it into the lower reaches of the Hot 100. On the album, T.I. proclaimed himself "King of the South," a title that sparked controversy. The second single,"Be Easy," found little chart traction, but in 2004, Tip released "Rubber Band Man," a David Banner-produced pop-banger that shot up the Hot 100 and peaked at No. 30.

Tip's buzz began to build on a national level in earnest. Unlike much of the competition in Atlanta and the rest of the South at the time, Tip balanced his unapologetically Southern drawl with a lyrical focus. As difficult as it was to hear much of a New York influence in his drawling syllables, the rapper had an elastic double-time flow and unquestionably deft rhythmic control that ran circles around the competition; witness his guest spot on 2004's "Look at the Grillz,"which gives co-guest-star Twista a run for his money.

His rising profile was briefly tempered by legal problems in March 2004, when the rapper was sentenced to three years for a probation violation. Luckily for him, he was work-released after only a month. While Tip was behind bars, rumors spread that rapper Lil Flip had disrespected the MC at a performance, a response to T.I.'s claims that he was "King of the South" on Trap Muzik. An on-wax beef was sparked between the two rappers, one that would later result in a real-world confrontation in Houston. T.I.'s evisceration of Flip's career came on 2004's Down with the King, most effectively in its opening moments, when T.I. remixed "99 Problems."

As his final single from Trap Muzik, "Let's Get Away," rose up the Hot 100, Tip prepared for the release of his third album, Urban Legend. The record sold 193,000 copies its first week, besting his previous release, and lead single "Bring 'Em Out" became his highest-charting single to that point, breaking into the top 10.

Meanwhile, he nabbed a guest spot on one of the year's biggest hits, joining an ascendant Lil Wayne on "Soldier," a Destiny's Child single that hit No. 3 on Billboard and went platinum. He also appeared on Young Buck's "Stomp," Jim Jones "End of the Road," and Lil Jon's epic posse cut"Grand Finale" with blistering verses.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: 50 Cent, Cam'ron, Game
50 Cent, meanwhile, was still riding high off of the success of his debut album; his only solo single, however, was "Disco Inferno," which didn't receive quite the acclaim as the singles from his previous record. His work with G-Unit, however, was more promising. Lloyd Banks and Young Buck were able to ride his coattails to strong sales, and Game was first introduced with singles"Westside Story" and, in particular, "How We Do," one of the strongest singles in 50's catalog. But relative to T.I., who was emerging as one of hip-hop's brightest stars, 50 had moved to a background role.

Cam'ron, in the meantime, prepared to follow up his crossover smash Come Home With Me and translate the modest success of the Diplomats to his own solo record. Purple Haze underperformed relative to its predecessor, but the album was a critical success, and its singles remain classics in the Cam'ron canon—even if, per the album's intro, they were originally recorded in 2002.

Meanwhile, Game's buzz, aided by a 50 Cent cosign and the aforementioned "How We Do" and "Westside Story" singles, became an undeniable story, one he would better be able to deliver upon when The Documentary dropped the following year. —David Drake

2005: JEEZY

CREDENTIALS: Let's Get It: Thug Motivation 101, Trap or Die, Boyz n da Hood

In 2004, Jeezy first made an impact outside of his native Atlanta, grabbing guest spots on songs by Fabolous and Trick Daddy, releasing his Tha Streets Iz Watchin mixtape, and dropping a video with Bun B titled "Over Here," which prominently advertised—at least to those in the know—his Big Meech affiliation. But the following year, Jeezy took off, beginning with the growing buzz around his Trap or Die mixtape.

He first broke nationally on Gucci Mane's "Icy" single, which, that same year, would become a source of conflict for both rappers. "Icy" was a smash, and Jeezy's first true hit, even if Gucci denied him use of it for his Def Jam debut. At the time, Jeezy was especially invested in obtaining the single; his appeal had been grounded in distinctive ad-libs and a searing vocal style, one that seemed more concerned with blunt, overwhelming force, rather than the dexterity or diversity of previous Atlanta stars like T.I. More to the point, he didn't have a certified hit.

Jeezy shouldn't have worried. 2005 marked the moment he crossed over completely, becoming one of the genre's biggest stars. He not only held his own but served as the charismatic center of Atlanta supergroup Boyz N Da Hood's debut LP. The record featured the group's biggest single,"Dem Boys," with a high-profile endorsement from P. Diddy. Jeezy would be the group's only breakout star.

As his Trap or Die mixtape continued to gain steam nationally, his debut LP, Let's Get It: Thug Motivation 101, was released. Significantly, the album introduced the world to the trap house sound of Shawty Redd, whose shards of synthesizers were a revolutionary brittle reinvention of hip-hop's soundscape. It marked the end of hip-hop's biggest crossover era, as populist gangster rap adapted a more underground, oppositional sonic template, rather than the pop-friendly sounds it had adopted in the TRL era.

The album launched four charting singles, including "Soul Survivor," which reached No. 4 on the Hot 100 and pushed Atlanta's new brittle trap house sound onto the national stage. Even his soul-sampling "Go Crazy" broke through on the East Coast; the rapper managed to summon Jay Z and Fat Joe for verses on the remix. Young Jeezy's totalitarian vision engulfed the country from the grassroots to the top.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: 50 Cent, Game, Common
50 Cent, meanwhile, released The Massacre, a commercial success but something of a critical disappointment. Songs like "Candy Shop" became massive crossover hits—at the expense of much of the support of his traditional hip-hop audience, who were relegated to enjoying album tracks like "Baltimore Love Thing" and "Ski Mask Way." Nonetheless, these were incredible songs. In '05, 50 was also responsible for some of the best tracks in his career, albeit under someone else's name.

The Game's debut, The Documentary, put him even more firmly in the conversation. The LP ultimately went double platinum after selling 586,000 copies in its opening week. "How We Do,"released in late November the previous year, continued to gain airplay, and the album's third single, "Hate It or Love It," was an even bigger success. Game's success, though, was split with 50 Cent, who was a major part of both singles; ironically, Game ended up with the stronger release, but 50 had scene-stealing verses (and hooks) on the album's biggest singles.

Common, meanwhile, released one of the best records of his career in Be, a major creative and unexpected commercial success. The rapper was signed to Kanye's G.O.O.D. Music label the previous year and appeared on The College Dropout. Produced primarily by Kanye West with an assist from the recently deceased J. Dilla, Common's Be received 4.5 mics in The Source and an XXL rating from XXL. It also became the rapper's second gold album, selling around 800,000 units. —David Drake

2006: LIL WAYNE

CREDENTIALS: 2005's Tha Carter II, Like Father, Like Son, Dedication 2, barrage of guest verses including "Gimmie That," "Make It Rain," and "You"

At the tail end of 2005, Lil Wayne dropped his best solo LP, Tha Carter II. The album featured a cut called "Best Rapper Alive," which seemed like another empty boast, but Wayne wasn't being cocky—he just realized his arrival before the rest of us did. After Tha Carter II, Weezy started his absolutely ridiculous run, highlighted by Dedication 2 and his joint album with Birdman, Like Father, Like Son, both of which featured some of the best rapping of his soon-to-be illustrious career.

More importantly, his mastery on the mic gave him the confidence to feel his way through any beat and interact with it as he saw fit. Once he started experimenting with more and more styles, the results were fascinating. It wasn't obvious then, but in retrospect he laid the groundwork for everyone's favorite version of Tunechi: Coke Rapper Weezy, Drugged-Out Weezy, Mainstream Weezy, Mixtape Weezy, etc. With confidence came comfort, and with comfort Wayne's personality shined through as he talked more about his love of SportsCenter, motorcycles, and all things New Orleans. His rhymes made him famous, but his "Murder the adults and let the kids get adopted" approach to fame made him a superstar.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: T.I., Pusha T, Lupe Fiasco
None of that should take anything away from T.I., who had a nearly flawless year as well. Despite his great output since 2003, T.I. always had an issue with finding the right balance between street anthems and pop hits (or as he put it, "T.I. vs TIP"). Prior to King he often leaned too far into the streets—despite his penchant for Billboard hits, songs like "You Don't Know Me" didn't quite cross over the way they should have. His later hits like "Live Your Life" were massive but leaned too far into pop territory. But 2006's "What You Know" struck the perfect balance, as did his album King. Still, even if T.I. was the King of the South, he wasn't the Best Rapper Alive.

However, Pusha T might have been the Best Coke Rapper Alive. Whatever it lacked in commercial appeal, Hell Hath No Fury made up for in cold, mechanical raps. Pusha iced every one of his bars with detached debauchery and delivered them like he was about to hawk a loogie. The keys had opened doors, and suddenly King Push had hit the coke rap zenith.

On the other end of the spectrum, Lupe Fiasco followed up his Fahrenheit 1/15 mixtape trilogy with his well-received debut, Food & Liquor. He might have been a newcomer, but as his impressive debut proved, he could tell engrossing stories with pinpoint precision, adjust his cadence ever so slightly to give his words greater weight, and still sell a modest amount of records. He not only kicked first-rate rhymes but pushed an image of a rapper more akin to Kanye than 50 Cent. A trend that would soon gain more momentum. —Insanul Ahmed

2007: KANYE WEST

CREDENTIALS: Graduation, beats 50 Cent in highly publicized sales battle, drops several huge hits, "Can't Tell Me Nothing," "Stronger," "Good Life," and "Homecoming"

Kanye West's career had been building toward this moment all along. By 2007, the stars had aligned and Yeezy became the epicenter of hip-hop, both sonically and artistically. Despite releasing two stellar albums in 2004 and 2005, he was seen as a great producer and great songmaker but never a great MC. During the years when the rap zeitgeist was playing limbo with coke rappers, mixtape runs, and ringtone rap, Yeezy raised the bar up and got his bars up.

His humor was still present as he spit the most Kanye line ever: "I'm like the fly Malcolm X, buy any jeans necessary." The real change was in Yeezy's now fluent delivery. No longer did he flub verses with over exposition. Whatever his words lacked in humility they made up for in maturity. His vocal performance was now poised and patient, characteristics best seen on cuts like "Flashing Lights," where he employed a delicate nuance to his rhymes where a younger Kanye might have gone for a ham-fisted approach.

Beyond his flow, 'Ye dropped his best songs ever, "Can't Tell Me Nothing," and finally found what he always sorely lacked: a true street anthem. With "Stronger," Yeezy scored arguably his biggest hit ever, another testament to his crossover appeal (and made Yeezy an early adapter to EDM).

Still, it felt like this was happening right under our noses. When Kanye got into a highly publicized sales battle with 50 Cent, many believed he stood no chance against Curtis. Little did they realize 50's antics were starting to feel like an old Biggie line: "Fuck that beef shit, that shit is played out." If you didn't initially feel the winds of change, then you got hit with the whirlwind of Graduation.

The album outsold 50's Curtis by a wide margin and not only proved Kanye was a cultural force but one who wasn't willing to settle. The guy that executives once told to stick to producing was now the Best Rapper Alive. Kanye must have realized it, too. As much as people think Kanye is obsessed with himself, in truth he's always been obsessed with challenging himself. That might have something to do with why, as soon as people finally accepted his rapping, he abandoned it to move on to singing.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Lil Wayne, Jay Z, André 3000
There was one incredibly frustrating thing about Graduation though: the Lil Wayne-assisted"Barry Bonds." Not because it was a bad song but because Kanye outrapped the previous Best Rapper Alive so badly it felt like Wayne took a dive. We only say that because otherwise Weezy killed it in '07, releasing about 100 songs.

The easy put down would have been "it was quantity over quality," but that's the thing about Wayne in his prime: Nearly everything he did was quality. There was always one random line or burst of flow that was worth hearing. The highlight was his spectacular double disc mixtape Da Drought 3, which found Wayne blacking out over one instrumental after another. The most significant cut was "Dough Is What I Got," which had him rapping over Jay Z's lackluster "Show Me What You Got." The song finally proved the claims Wayne had made in Complex the previous year: "I"m better than Jay Z."

Jay Z was having a resurgence of sorts as well. After seemingly losing a step after retiring and coming back with the disappointing Kingdom Come, Jay got inspired by the film American Gangster and dropped an album of the same name. He wasn't rapping about anything he hadn't rapped about 10 years before, but the fact that he found yet another way to say something we'd already heard and make it compelling remains one of his most under-appreciated achievements.

A slightly disappointing (in hindsight) event was the return of André 3000. 3 Stacks' comeback—highlighted by a series of memorable guest verses—was ultimately a tease for a solo project that never materialized. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that every time he dropped a verse it became the most talked about 16 of any given moment. —Insanul Ahmed