Is it really summer if you don't have a killer Drake verse to yell obnoxiously in the club? For the past couple of years, it's been my contention that the season rests squarely on the Boy delivering a song or remix that's as reliable as jorts and ice cream sandwiches. His take on Fetty Wap's "My Way" has me rethinking that theory, though. The verse is great and all—just off-key enough that it's in the sweet spot between being enjoyable and being easy to sing along to—but, maybe for the first time, Drake's star power fails to eclipse a track's original artist. Fetty holds his own over the layered beat with an endearing warble that suggests he may have more in his arsenal than just a single hit. —Rawiya Kameir
This week, T-Wayne landed himself in the Hot 100's top 10, snug between Jason Derulo and Ed Sheeran. For the initiated, T-Wayne is a Houston rapper and 300 Entertainment rookie whose song "Nasty Freestyle" has set of a Vine-craze—a la Bobby Shmurda—with users tracking six seconds of Spiderman and dancing babies to the song's opening couplet: First, let me hop out the motherfucking Porsche/I don't want her if the ass don't sit like a horse.— Zara Golden
Beenzino's "How Do I Look" dropped dead-center last summer, and it's officially time to revisit it. First of all, any rapper who's name parodies Benzino's is A++ in my book. Second, this beat is wedding music at it's finest, even though the whole song is a surreal take on the pervasive Fashion Rap wave and is about as self-absorbed as a song called "How Do I Look" can be. I understand half of it and can't stop listening to it. — Matthew Trammell
Moses Sumney was raised between Southern California and Ghana and is currently on tour with Sufjan Stevens. And though "Seeds," a gentle swell of guitar and falsetto, is the first I've heard from him, he feels comfortably familiar to me; it's the wash of tender-hearted, melancholic folk-hemming sound that soundtracked so many somber late-night drives during my emotional teenage years. — Zara Golden
It feels like we've been waiting a small eternity for New Alhambra, the Elvis Depressedly full-length that Run For Cover records and Orchid Tapes will officially co-release next week, on vinyl and cassette respectively. But the duo, comprised of Mat Cothran and Delaney Mills, released a stream of the album a few days early, and listening now makes the whole wait seem worth it; the second couplet on sleepy highlight "Rock N' Roll" goes: Jesus died on the cross/ so I could quit my job. It's the kind of tragically funny lyric that Cothran is better at writing then just about anyone. — Patrick D. McDermott
With Ty Dolla $ign and DJ Mustard on the beat, you might think you know what you're getting with this. But the lead single off Baltimore rapper King Los' upcoming mixtape, God, Money & War,is probably not exactly that: Mustard's drums are relatively skeletal here compared to his usual pregnant pitter-patter, but the surprisingly sparse production proves a perfect vehicle for Los' smooth, braggadocios flow. — Zara Golden
Shouts to the Illegal Civ hooligans for skating to this gem and opening my eyes to the brilliance of Shakir J. This kid was no older than 13 when he and his boys rolled through the local mall to hold a clinic in swag: heel flips in Jordan XVIIIs, crunchy bills falling past fluorescent mall lights, and the occasional ogling eye from the very girl that likes the way he swags it. The way he whispers "them racks" in the third verse alone is worthy of your loudest flex bomb and hottest flame emoji. And still, somehow, he ain't even famous. — Matthew Trammell
Part of London trio Real Lies' appeal is the pairing of wryly delivered spoken-word verses with the almost innocent yearning of their early '90s-referencing vocal hooks. Their latest, "Seven Sisters," is like a house party where the only two guests are yesteryear's wide-eyed rave euphoria and today's vaguely anxious fatigue. There's even a lil loon sample, the mainstay of house classics like this, which cements it as winner in my book. — Ruth Saxelby
On Astronauts, etc.'s "No Justice," frontman Anthony Ferraro takes a hook that's grim in theory—There's no justice for those who are in love / There's no justice, no—and finesses it into a beautiful and patient love song. Or is it a meditation on the early stages of a break-up? Commentary on marriage equality? It could really be any of the above but, most importantly, the dreamy track sounds like a warm, protracted hug I'm happy to accept. — Rawiya Kameir