Technically speaking, Big Sean’s not releasing his debut self-help book until January, but his new song “Typecast” feels like an earnest head start. There, he flexes his self-attributed knack for words of wisdom: “Could build a damn positive affirmation gallery.” It’s a boast and a product description for Better Me Than You, a competently constructed but bland album that too often confuses generic therapy speak for depth. Thematically, the dad raps are a sign of maturation from a skillful yet mischievous rapper who once bragged about being 10 feet tall when standing atop his own dick. But intentions and themes aren’t replacements for effectively leveraged imagination, and artistically, personal evolution doesn’t mean much if your songwriting skills don’t grow with it.

In an age where rap icons are either literally pissing on their Grammy trophies or using their own victory speeches to figuratively shit on them, Denzel Curry stands out as one of the few young spitters who’d actually love to have one. From the beginning of his career, he’s showcased a knack for engrossing aesthetics and an affinity for ostensibly challenging big-picture concepts — a constellation of highbrow connotations usually needed for clueless awards show committees to treat rap like a legitimate art form. By his own account, these are the folks Curry has always looked to impress. “I tell my fans all the time: I’m not doing this just to do it, I wanna win a Grammy off this hoe,” he told Miami New Times two years ago. “But it feel like I don’t get recognized for what I do, even though I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

For an MC whose big shot came through battle rap, there’s a profound irony in Eminem’s greatest opponent now being himself. Since releasing his great but not-quite-classic fourth LP, ​​The Eminem Show, in 2002, Em’s faced off against his own worst impulses as steadily dented his legacy with awful albums.

Chief Keef has always marched to the beat of his own 808s.

Typically speaking, college kids aren’t seasoned marketers or astute culture journalists. They don’t use Chartmetric to assess the career trajectory of their favorite rapper, and when they describe what does or doesn’t work for their faves, they aren’t trying to win a Pulitzer Prize. And unlike me, they’ll probably never have the ability to do so anyway (JK, JK). But what they do have is the benefit of unfiltered instinct, and if you hang around them for long enough, you can get the sort of raw, plainspoken insight that’s seldom gleaned from a boardroom or an editorial meeting.

Peter A. Berry is a former XXL staffer who’s been a writer-editor for close to 10 years. An aspiring tortured genius, he’s a lifelong rap fan and lover of all things dope, and if there’s a way to write about something, he’s typically game. Tap in with him for Say What’s Real, a monthly hip-hop column about all the most notable releases from the underground, the mainstream, and somewhere in between.