So I was sitting here wondering what would be something good to write about, but the only phrase that came to mind was, “Wow these walls are really white;” which, no matter how you slice it, is neither interesting or particularly relatable—as some of you may have walls of a darker hue. Naturally, as a millennial, I decided to peruse the ever expanding interwebs to see if I could find some motivation. After stumbling through a number of sites and forum pages, I lucked upon the new Vince Staples’ video, “Screen Door.”

If you haven’t heard the masterpiece that is Hell Can Wait, you are missing out on one of last year’s best releases. Vince Staples has been circulating around my periphery since he first appeared on an Odd Future tapes, way back in 2010. However, like the group he was so often associated with, I began to ignore him for more “mature” or less angst driven music (the whole “I’m a grown ass man” theory of developing musical taste). His previous three mixtapes, though beloved and critically acclaimed, caught digital dust in my itunes library.

Thankfully, someone talked some sense into me and demanded that I listen to Hell Can Wait, and I actually followed their instructions. It wasn’t Vince’s ability to put together intricate rhymes or the fact that he seemed to not give a damn about much of anything (see title), what grabbed me about the project was how he put it altogether so coherently. Everyone from California suffers the same inevitable fate: a comparison to N.W.A. or Tupac. Although, it was impossible not see the obviously positive comparisons between Staples and a young Ice Cube or a fiery Pac.

Vince Staples lyrics aren’t conscious in the way every tenth grade fan of Talib Kweli would approve of, but it doesn’t detract from his words’ power to move you. He spits in modern South Central parables: they are words taken from the streets about the streets, but to teach a more universal story—whether he consciously planned it that way or not. Staple’s songwriting magic is probably best seen in “Screen Door,” a song about falling into the folds of his father’s drug business while still a young child. He describes talking to fiends without any care or fear; his cold inflection speak volumes about the lifestyle he was raised around.

Pops was moving slow poke, that’s way before the codeine/

Just methadone and powdered H to junkies with the sour faces/

Knocking on the screen door, asking for their homie Nate/

“Ten to twenty each, 4p.m. he leave so don’t be late!”/

Hell Can Wait hit so many levels and had all the qualities that I normally look for in great albums (great production, great lyrics, great messages, and just being great), hence why I enjoyed it so much and still go back to it. However, it feels weird saying that my favorite album of 2015 so far, and was possibly my most anticipated album of 2014, is Rae Sremmurd’s SreemLife.

If a tenth grade Deltron 3030 fan might hate me for my love of Hell Can Wait, they are probably plotting my demise for my SremmLife obsession. I have listened to this album from front to back so many times—I’m pretty sure I can recite “Unlock The Swag” off the top of my head—yet I haven’t run across anything that could even be considered close to socially aware. I mean they definitely use poplar culture in order to make a number of clever lines and the awesome “This Could Be Us,” but nothing of great significance is being said on this album other than we have a ton of racks and even more pretty bitches waiting in the lobby.

If my Ipod could talk, it would probably laugh at me for the mere fact that I haven’t upgraded to an Iphone or gotten Spotify on my poor old Android device (yes device, hop off). However, after the brief laughing bit, my trusty companion would tell you that I have been listening to this Sremmlife almost nonstop, even after adding the new Lupe Fiasco album to the mix (side note: I have over 150 Lupe tracks on my persons at all time). Why is that? It’s too damn cold to be sifting through “Mural” and I sort of want to have some fun.

“Read my lips: I do my own stunts” might be the bar of the year off of delivery and the amount of enjoyment I receive reciting it alone. Rae Sremmurd know how to do party music unlike anyone out right now; their music, while not PG in the slightest, has a sort of childlike innocence to it. I’m not going to play it for my Nephew anytime soon, it just makes for a good time. When a Rae Sremmurd banger comes on, nobody feels like acting wild, but just partying (include the models awkwardly dancing in the “Up Like Trump” Video).

Three relatively young artists all in one space, making completely different styles of music, but still findings way to get me to continue listening. It’s strange how they are seemingly at odds with one another in styles, yet provide me with much needed boosts throughout the day. I love hearing the gritty stories from Vince Staples, as much as I like to jump around and fake dance with Rae Sremmurd.

I think my musical tastes might finally be maturing.