SPIN's 40 Best Rap Albums of 2011

Much like his hometown of Meridian, Mississippi, beat-making auteur Big K.R.I.T. nestled at the midpoint between UGK's Port Arthur, Texas, and T.I.'s Atlanta. But the second of his three stopover mixtapes since he inked his Def Jam deal reveals some undeniable commercial potential behind this hungry scuffler's country-rap cassette nostalgia, candy-coated soul samples, and luxurious twang. Whether politically charged, emotionally drained, or just speaking on speakers, every track rides slow and gleams like it's an international player's anthem. C.W.

For their first commercial release, this New York meta-rap trio officially move from P'Zone-fueled novelty geniuses to formidable MCs fearlessly traversing the Heart of Snarkness via neon-colored blasts of pixelated ringtone noise, Auto-Tuned chortling, and party-rock anthems. It's wildly 2011, like a wry Twitter feed of rap-nerd jokes and contemporary hipster runoff. But beyond that, it's the highest-profile record from an emerging, loosely connected fraternity of rappers (including Despot, Mr. Muthafuckin' eXquire, Action Bronson, a newly keyed-up El-P) who represent the most energizing force in New York indie-rap since Def Jux's heyday. C.W.

Nearly 20 years after dissolving '90s jazzbos Digable Planets, Ishmael Butler reemerges as the leader of this Seattle collective. Wrapping a black-power fist in a velvet glove, he critiques the white power structure and its supplicants ("Forgot they lynched us," Butler growls on "Yeah You"), while leading a powwow set to bass drops, Afrobeat percussion, and MPC flurries. They may invoke the fiery nationalism of the Last Poets, but they're savvy enough to welcome anyone who wants to join the dance. M.R.

Frequently described as a Horatio Alger fantasy, hip-hop is really about self-actualization. So these 'Bama strivers believed and dreamed of rap stardom while struggling to pay the phone bill. And on The One… Cohesive, they slow-cook country rap over Block Beattaz's expansive production and scrape the sky. Still, it's the memories of working dead-end jobs on "Came Up," dismissing hometown haters on "Y U Mad," and toiling on tracks in basement studios that form the album's Dirty South soul. M.R.

Some Internet-fueled hip-hop hustlers may have struggled to stick out in an abundant 2011 market, but Detroit's Danny Brown has more singular tics than a professional wrestler. There's his adenoidal honk of a voice, his Flock of Seagulls waterfall haircut, a deep insight into his hometown's grittier alcoves, and a knack for verbal gymnastics amid feedback- and noise-flecked beats (one song samples '70s prog-punk legends This Heat). But above and beyond all that, he simply raps like a motherfucker (occasionally about fucking your mother). C.W.