Before Biggie, nearly every rapper was a specialist. But Biggie was the complete package. Even Pharcydes Fatlip confessed that he felt inadequate next to Biggie’s overall excellence on record and in video. The fault of rappers in the post-Biggie era was thinking they could compete with him.Puff Daddy maximized Biggie’s eclectic tastes on 1994s Ready to Die: massive radio hits ("Juicy," "Big Poppa," "One More Chance") coupled with murderously head-nodding odes to spitting on graves ("The What"), feeding artillery to canines ("Warning"), and the defining advantage of boxers over briefs ("Unbelievable").Whereas Hammer and Vanilla Ice mined the grooves of 70s and 80s rollerskating jams for massive sales at the beginning of the decade, Biggie sampled Mtumes syrupy "Juicy Fruit" while sticking up Isuzu jeeps on "Gimmie the Loot." Blunts were rolled next to bottles of Cristal, Army jackets were hung next to Coogi sweaters, and platinum plaques were offered up to Bed-Stuy.But Life After Death upped the ante—Biggie had mastered every rap style under the sun by the tender age of 24. Never before had an MC owned the radio ("Hypnotize," "Mo Money Mo Problems"), the mixtapes ("Kick in the Door"), the 96 Knicks ("I Got a Story to Tell"), and every part of the map ("Going Back to Cali," "Notorious Thugs"). Life After Death checked off every box over its two discs: storytelling, beefs, murder, mortality, paranoia, drugs, sex, and extravagance. To paraphrase Doug E. Fresh, any Biggie song you played, youd immediately think to yourself, "Yo... Did that really happen?"Biggie was one of the best rappers, but more crucially, he had one of the best ears. For Life After Death, he picked arguably the greatest collection of beats that had no place being together on any one album. RZAs Stax Records obsession on "Long Kiss Goodnight" was pitted against Puffys Diana Ross jack move for "Mo Money Mo Problems"; DJ Premiers whittling of Screamin Jay Hawkins ("Kick in the Door") and Les McCann ("Ten Crack Commandments") coexisted with Stevie Js glossier crates—Barbara Mason ("Another") and Liquid Liquid ("Nasty Boy").Biggie was right at home paying homage to Schoolly D, the dusted West Philly inventor of gangsta rap, and DMC, a graduate of St. John’s University. There was no sample source too funky (Zapp on "Going Back to Cali") nor too melancholy (Al Green on "My Downfall"), and no beat presented any challenge.Life After Death was released just two weeks after the unfortunate, premature death of this fearless rapper. For the 20th anniversary, its important to celebrate its greatest quality: Biggies otherworldly ability to make you like everything he liked.

Westside Gunn and Conway the Machine are the closest things to conventional East Coast rap that Eminem has ever affiliated himself with. They arent giddy hitmakers like 50 Cent, nor bizarro pill-poppers like D12; theyre more like Obie Trice, if he only rapped over the most austere Alchemist beats. If they were the Clipse, Gunn would be Pusha T, the flashy, flamboyant personality, while Conway would be Malice, the calculating visual technician, both exposing the hustlers lifestyle but never quashing spilled blood. Gunn built his buzz while Conway was recovering from a gunshot wound in the face from a 2013 incident. Now, they stand in front of one of the biggest audiences in the world: Gunn fresh off his outstanding Hitler Wears Hermes mixtapes, and Conway making numerous guest appearances and live radio freestyles.Though they’ve painted industry numbers to a point—mixtapes, big-name cosigns—they’ve taken an offbeat path to Shady Records. They’re brothers in blood, in business—Gunn managed Conway initially—and in rap. Their streets are Buffalo, NY, but the feel of their records is Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx, and their lyrics are indebted to the classics of Nas, JAY Z, Raekwon, and Capone-N-Noreaga. Releasing multiple projects on limited wax with England’s Daupe Records, which now retail on eBay for tenfold, their songs aren’t on the radio, but their faces are spray-painted on murals all over the world. Theyve named their label Griselda Records after the queen of narcotics trafficking, and styled themselves Fashion Rebels, their mugs colorfully stitched on hats, hoodies, and tees that sell out within minutes on Instagram.Gunn and Conway continue the formula of slick NYC brutality over minimalist beats that dont leave your subwoofers in a tizzy. Like post-Roc Marciano acts Ka, Hus KingPin, SmooVth, SonnyJim, et al., their approach isnt the 808 and a drum kit, its the dust-speckled four-bar vinyl loop. Combine that with unmatched chemistry, an in-house producer, Daringer, who rarely works outside the clique, and the unknown ills of upstate New Yorks historically bleak and violent corners, and you get a familiar late-’90s feel with references to Yeezy Boosts, cherry BMW X7s, and sneaker colorist Ronnie Fieg. Their fanbase, which includes Eminem, Royce da 5’9”, and Academy Award winner Mahershala Ali, has spoken: There’s still space for splashy late-’90s East Coast rhymin’ in the era of mumbling for millions.

In the mid-90s, RZA negotiated the famous "Wu-Tang deal," where the Clan as a group were signed to Steve Rifkinds trailblazing Loud Records, but all of their solo albums would be spread out across multiple major labels, ensuring that the industry would be working for the crew, not the other way around.Raekwon was approached by Puff Daddy about signing to Bad Boy, but he chose to stay in-house with Loud Records to drop his landmark debut, Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…. Puffy saw Raekwon as the perfect weapon: smooth enough to glide on R&B features—as he and Ghostface did on Jodecis "Freek‘n You" remix—and rugged enough to stomp beats like he did on Mobb Deeps "Eye for a Eye." Puffy had perfected this formula with The Notorious B.I.G., and Raekwon was a worthy choice to follow (this was before they became rivals on the infamous “Shark Biters” skit). Instead, Raekwon made the best drug-dealer album of all time, but never found the breakthrough mainstream success of Biggie or Puffy.Twenty years later, you can hear hints of Puffys vision on Raekwon’s recently released seventh solo album, The Wild. G-Eazy, Lil Wayne, CeeLo Green, Andra Day, and J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League all pop up on the record, instead of Method Man, GZA, RZA, and crew, to make sizeable waves with newer audiences. Raekwon can thrive outside of the beloved Wu-Tang sound—his freestyle over Drakes "Pound Cake" is a perfect example—and his work on recent R&B tracks by Mack Wilds, Ryan Leslie, and Faith Evans proves hes still a capable voice on lighter fare. His radical slang therapy on albums by Ghostface, Prodigy, and Statik Selektah continues to keep his razor tongue sharp.The Wild has moments like "Cant You See," “Nothing,” and "This Is What It Comes Too" that can hang with anything from Raes past work, but a stronger plan of attack mightve made the album bulletproof instead of a mixed bag. Rick Ross is a good example of a contemporary street rapper who mixes mafia-flick visuals with sax-laden R&B, all while cranking out gothic bangers. And he’s even done a thing or two with Puffy over the years.Nonetheless, Raekwon is the most active and beloved member of Wu-Tang in the industry, popping up on albums from Kanye West, French Montana, ScHoolboy Q, A$AP Mob, 2 Chainz, and Action Bronson. The Wild fails to match up to his contemporaries, but the abilities that Puffy and RZA saw twenty years ago are still evident when other people call on the Chef. This playlist pulls together the sleek and sinister works of Raekwon: R&B sprinkled with Snow Beach pullovers, crack and weed, Staten Island killers who love Gladys Knight, crushed velour tracksuits, and Moët.