5 Worst Rap Albums of 2019: Staff Picks

These albums aren’t good.
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Worst Rap Albums, 2019

Not all albums are created equal. These albums are just bad. Nothing else to say here. Enjoy, or not.

Father of Asahd — DJ Khaled

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I hate to say it, and I hope I don’t sound ridiculous, but I couldn’t like a DJ Khaled project if I tried. While I think Khaled has the best intentions, his want to speak about his transformation from a creator of music to the creator of an extension of his legacy doesn’t resonate in the content. There isn’t enough versatility present on Father of Asahd. We know that Khaled has a lot of pull in the industry, but maybe he should stick to executive producing projects for other artists. — Simi Muhumuza

The Fall of Hobo Johnson — Hobo Johnson

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If you’ve ever had the misfortune of attending a comedy open mic, you’ve probably witnessed an aspiring comedian (or eight) use their stage time to deliver an unhinged rant about their mental health concerns. For as difficult as this is to watch, I’m sympathetic to their struggles and glad they have a coping mechanism. Still, bombing in front of strangers isn’t a viable replacement for therapy. Devoid of further introspection or insight, merely repeating the words “I have depression” isn’t art. In any case, what was I saying about this Hobo Johnson album? — Hershal Pandya

I’m going to need a minute here. Hobo Johnson, who raps like Jonah Hill doing slam poetry in 22 Jump Street, has a voice like someone speaking way too loudly on a drive-thru speaker. He is nearly on the verge of swallowing the mic at any minute. His lyricism sounds like a combination of a Live, Laugh, Love poster with one of those question-filled origami’s we all made in junior high, achieved something special here. The Fall of Hobo Johnson is one of the most narcissistic and incoherent musical failings in recent memory. It’s like listening to someone whisper a 37 minute long Instagram caption in your ear so hard, you can feel the spit hitting your eardrums with every word. It isn’t so much a rap album, as it’s what people who listen to too much Yellowcard probably think a rap album sounds like. — Matt Wilhite

In My Defense — Iggy Azalea

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This is admittedly a hard category; I spend much of my time trying to keep up with new music, and hardly linger on the bottom of the barrel long enough to remember the options by year’s end. But Iggy takes the cake for the sheer number of times her music popped up on my timeline, and the uncomfortably high number of people commenting “I fuck with this” or “This song isn’t even that bad.” It is that bad. It only gets worse each time it rears its uninvited head. —Kenan Draughorne

The Big Day — Chance The Rapper

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This one hurts. 10 Day and Acid Rap informed my adolescence as much as Surf and Coloring Book soundtracked my personal growth. But while it’s hard not to love Chance, it’s shockingly easy to never, ever return to The Big Day. Sure, in a vacuum, many artists dropped albums that may be worse, but relative to expectations, nobody shit the bed this year quite like Chancellor. Elements of old Chance remain intermittently, but good luck finding them across the album’s hour-and-17-minute runtime. Chance wanted a carnival and ended up with a dinner party where everyone wants to leave early. — Zachary Miller

Harverd Dropout — Lil Pump

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Overall, 2019 has been a pretty good year for music, so I had to wrack my brain to recall the year’s worst album. And then I remembered Lil Pump’s Harverd DropoutThe album reeks of planning by committee, a factory-safe siphoning of the SoundCloud star’s energy by way of whatever goodwill “Gucci Gang” had generated. His self-titled 2017 debut at least had a glimmer of personality. With Harverd Dropout’s generic beats and cookie-cutter raps, Lil Pump’s time ahead of the curve has come to a screeching halt. — Dylan "CineMasai" Green

Kids, stay in school. — Yoh

N/A — N/A

Who has the time to listen to an entire album’s worth of material they hate? Not me. I am already always upset. If I wanted to hurt my feelings, I could do that for free. — Donna-Claire Chesman

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