The best rap songs of March 2025

Was City Cinderella the most underrated mixtape of 2024? Quite possibly. Despite the titanic success of single “OKAY” — it felt as if every woman in America memorized the lyrics overnight — JT’s debut solo mixtape City Cinderella didn’t make quite as big of a splash. At its best, as on “OKAY” and agile February single “Sideways,” that tape leaned into a gritty update on the classic sounds of Atlanta trap and Florida hip-hop. New single “RAN OUT” follows in a similar vein musically, but you get the sense JT is tired of grinding outside the limelight to prove her #barredup bonafides: she’s a motherfucking star, you know?

So “RAN OUT” is a play-by-play guide to being “the baddest bitch out:” stacking paper so high it’ll never disappear, rocking consignment designer, turning down white girls’ coke in the bathroom, doing the dash any time your card declines. The Indiana420Bitch (loved his video for “BACKR00MS”) clip perfectly encapsulates the vibe, opening with a staged ATM robbery before turning a broad daylight parking lot into a makeshift strip club floor, cash-strewn and mesmerizing. It’s a testament to JT’s magnetic lyricism that even in front of a giant cube of bills or a legion of twerking models, the focus never drifts. Sleep on her at your own peril.

I would really like to split a 3.5 of bizarrely-packaged “zaza” with mynameisntjmack. Hit play on any track off this week’s BOOKMARK 2 and you’ll probably agree: the Virginia rapper sounds like someone you could trust to roll up a solid joint, never fuck up the vibe on the aux, and hear out all of your deepest stoned thoughts whether silly or somber. And on “Lemon/Ginger,” he proves he can be trusted with kombucha store runs too (though I’m more of a Guava Goddess fan myself).

His vocals are so steady over the tranquil instrumental, it’s hard to believe he’s rapping about forgetting his credit card at restaurants and crashing his car before sold out concerts, but then again, that’s really jmack’s biggest strength, how he’s perfectly unruffled by any of the chaos life might throw at him. Forget dream blunt rotations with collaborators Tommy Richman and Johan Lenox — mynameisntjmack would probably make an excellent trip-sitter too.

One of my good friends has randomly texted me emotional DeeBaby lyrics at 4 in the morning for the better part of two years, which is basically the highest cosign any rapper can receive. To quote an effusive text from my pal: “DeeBaby is the inheritor of a melodic pain rap tradition that’s withered up culturally and commercially.” Accordingly, even the brighter spots on his new album Ms. Salazar seem more complicated than carefree: “Ting Ting” opens with the nonchalant aside, “Bro if I knew that was your bitch I would’ve still hit it,” before Dee flexes a $15 million, two album deal, but he’s quickly back to wondering if the woman with him can truly hold him down. “You can’t jump back in this car once I say I’m finished,” he warns early on. Later, his vocals collapse as he keens, “I hate that I told you leave I want you arooooound.” But even if DeeBaby can’t quite let his guard down, that doesn’t mean he expects anything less: around the 1:51 mark of the video, he dangles a woman embracing him over the edge of a balcony in an unbelievable variation on a trust fall. Do NOT try this at home.

On his early January project cupid, Nigeria-via-Staten Island rapper-singer wolfacejoeyy pushed his open-hearted iteration of sexy drill into groovier territory. The end result was a batch of steamier and more danceable tracks than those on last year’s Valentino (one of The FADER’s favorite albums of 2024). His new single “petty” is the perfect morsel, sweet, satisfying and finished way too soon, like a Hershey’s kiss or a juicily ripe strawberry.

If you’ve ever been in a competitive situationship, then the premise of “petty” will be painfully familiar: young, dumb, and attached but not exclusive, our protagonist and his paramour trade uppercuts and body blows. She was posting from the club with a bottle of Don Julio on her head sending Joey’s calls straight to voicemail, so now he’s gotta pick up her best friend in the black truck with stars in the ceiling. Not that the competition gives his lover the ick — au contraire, she hits him with, “don’t forget you still my boy” (who doesn’t love a little toxic triangulation). From any other sexy drill artist, these antics would come across razor sharp, capable of wounding at a glance — but wolfacejoeyy’s svelte melodies always mollify prickly subject matter into something approachable.

Over the past year, drill rap across has entered its Halo title screen/Gregorian chant era. Rappers like Skrilla, OT7 Quanny, and Lil Hawa all favor beats that conjure images of church canters leading services or earthbound spirits wailing in pain, but it’s not just Philadelphia artists shredding these ominous instrumentals. Chicago rapper and Lil Durk-signee Chuckyy has a similar predilection for sparse beats and moaning vocal pads, with a pinched tone that reminds me of Squidward and a murmured flow splitting the difference between the acrobatic stoicism of Veeze and the rapid-fire stylings of G-Herbo.

Even in this more sedate niche of the drill subgenre, Chuckyy’s ear for beats stands out for how subtle the drums can be — on last year’s “Need4Speed,” ProdbyOlami’s 808s are practically a suggestion, and January’s “FREE SMURK OFNG” (prod. Slickda3rd, Takeof, Honchoo00, Bugg and Chuckyy himself) only turns them up a tad from there. Chuckyy has plenty of hard-knocking drill songs in his discography besides, but his music shines brightest when he lets his verses take center stage.

On “N***a Poetry,” Chuckyy tallies his blessings between violent threats and wistful memories of hardluck days. The whiplash of a couplet like “My dreams of course I’m livin em / Talk crazy, I hope you bulletproof,” is of course The Point — the song title is almost too on the nose — but the young rapper brings depth and detail to the proceedings, neatly avoiding the predictable and pedantic.