As Drake says himself, they love to tell stories ’bout the man. So it’s a good thing that no one tells that tale better than the 6ix God himself.
Since emerging with So Far Gone 17 years ago, Drizzy has used Bridget Jones' introspection, Simone Biles' agility and Stephen Curry's range to dominate the music industry like prime LeBron James. His self-myths are the stuff of intense personal mantras and all those annoying Instagram captions from unattainable baddies to the most mediocre person you’ve ever met. His hooks ring off whether at a wedding reception or the wedding ceremony itself.
We know the scouting report. Just when and where his prime took place is less agreed upon. So ahead of his forthcoming album, Iceman, it’s time for the look back: which Drake album is best, and why?
So here it is: check out Okayplayer’s list of Drake albums ranked from worst to best.
18. 'Room for Improvement' (2006)
Between corny interludes and dampened Joe Budden imitations, Room for Improvement is as earnest as it is flawed. But if you can see past the stilted rap tropes, you can catch a glimpse of the chameleonic songwriter the 6ix God would eventually become. Embedded with quivering soul samples and nimble rhyme structures, tracks like “Make Things Right” are rap-nip for folks who wish Drizzy made his whole career a Phonte impression. But then he can also deliver a track like “City Is Mine,” a spare strip club theme song laced with slick talk and anthemic propulsion. It’s all too clumsy to be ranked any higher on this list, but the flashes of skill, along with the pieced-together charm — having a “Kick Push” remix that says “featuring Lupe Fiasco” even though it’s just Drake pasted onto the original track — make it a worthwhile look back at utero Drizzy. Sure, there was room for improvement, but it should’ve been clear that, with the right tweaks, The Boy could someday be The Man. — Peter A. Berry
17. '$ome $exy $ongs 4 U' (2025)
The title, $ome $exy $ongs 4 U, is supposed to be ironically uncreative, but it turns out it’s just an accurate description for a group of Drake and PARTYNEXTDOOR throwaways. At their best, on “Somebody Loves Me,” Drizzy and PND are genuinely affecting, with their lyrics and pained melodies swirling together for a song that feels like actual longing. Otherwise, Drizzy is better by himself, as the pair’s collabs feel like stitched-together afterthoughts that fail to generate the propulsion or seductive immersion of tracks like “Recognize” or “Loyal.” At times, Drake manages to save the affair, with tracks like “Nokia” and “Gimmie a Hug” being genuinely undeniable. It’s just too bad that much of the album is something you can easily say no to. — Peter A. Berry
16. 'For All The Dogs' (2023)
When it comes to slaps, Drake is somewhere between A Pimp Named Slickback and Mike Tyson deciding to be merciful. He’s got more hits than The Beatles, and, through a combination of curatorial instincts, general songwriting wit, and a preternatural ear for phonetics, he always feels guaranteed to provide you with at least a few singles you’ll play until you don’t want to hear his voice anymore (except you do). So then, I’m alarmed by just how little I’ve ever wanted to revisit For All the Dogs, a bloated, meandering slog of an LP filled with all the most indistinct versions of tracks he made seven or eight years ago. Here, he’s got a denser dose of slut-shamey bars than usual, but without the choruses to make you forget them. He should’ve kept Teezo Touchdown in the garage, and his customary 21 Savage and PND features feel more insipid than inspired. He even managed to waste one of his SZA features (“Slime You Out” remains a puzzling first single choice). Good thing for “Rich Baby Daddy.” Otherwise, this one’s largely a dub — evidence that his supposed downfall began a good while before “Not Like Us.” With For All The Dogs’ dearth of anthems, Drake didn’t even manage to be like Drizzy. — Peter A. Berry
15. 'Comeback Season' (2007)
As a title, Comeback Season will always make me chuckle because, well, there was nothing to come back from. His first project was mid. That was the baseline. A title like "Arrival" would’ve been more fitting, as Drizzy began blending his technical dexterity with more fluid all-around songwriting. Here, the bars hit with a force they hadn’t before: “Yeah, that's the reason why he lookin' hard 'cause I done snatched the Chips Ahoy out his cookie jar / He just mad 'cause his girl at the house with her tongue sticking out like a Michael Jordan rookie card.” Produced by 9th Wonder, tracks like the Phonte and Elzhi “Think Good Thoughts” feel like backpacker nirvana, and “Going in For Life” is as smooth as it is swaggering. No comeback here, but it was definitely about to be his season. — Peter A. Berry
14. 'Certified Lover Boy' (2021)
Let's just get this out of the way: No one asked for a 2021 update of Right Said Fred's signature song, but here we are. After an album delay shelved the excellent "Laugh Now Cry Later" with Lil Durk, Drake instead led with the goofy Future-and-Young-Thug-featuring "Way 2 Sexy." It's a misstep that stands out on an overcrowded and disjointed album.
The highs are real. For "Champagne Poetry," Drake turns Masego’s “Navajo” into a lush meditation on winning in his career while losing himself. Jay-Z's verse on "Love All" makes you wonder what a joint album between the two icons would sound like. “Fair Trade” brilliantly brings Drake into Travis Scott’s musical world, and "Fountains" with Tems is simply mesmerizing.
But Certified Lover Boy keeps returning to the same themes Drizzy has covered since early in his career: romantic fallouts, industry paranoia, friends turned enemies. On “F*****g Fans,” he fesses up: “Nigga left his 20s, and I still wanna party.” Drake’s lyrical content on this album often sounds similarly stunted. — John Kennedy
13. Dark Lane Demo Tapes (2020)
Drake isn’t raw. And that’s a good thing. His major label debut marked his arrival as a polished superstar, and most things he released before 2020 were more about pristine control than super risk-taking or visceral emotional overflows. So then, Dark Lane Demos was a neat little glimpse at Drake in the lab. At times, it’s pretty dope. “Deep Pockets” is effortless rapping rapping for folks who love Drizzy when he acts tough, while “Chicago Freestyle” and “When to Say When” represent the more somber, introspective Drake that made him successful in the first place. The Playboi Carti-assisted “Pain 1993” is impressionistic, loose and fun, and the Fivio Foreign-featured “Demons” is an electric exercise in ghostly U.K. drill. Unforgivable as “Toosie Slide” is, these demos feel more impressive than more than a few of Drizzy’s finished products. Ditto for most of his other contemporaries. — Peter A. Berry
12. 'Honestly, Nevermind' (2022)
For those unamused by The Island Boys' TikToks or Chet Hanks big-upping Jamaica, a breezy house album where Drake courts his inability to settle down over Black Coffee and Gordo beats probably sounded like a bad idea. Relying less on a patois persona and more on musicality, Honestly, Nevermind served as the palette cleanser no one wanted, but everyone needed.
Perhaps paying back the unintended lob Ye gave genre-curious rappers with 808s & Heartbreak, Honestly, Nevermind didn’t derive a slew of copycat singles, nor did it change the malleability of hip-hop. What it did do was make fans want to hear Drake rap again.
Standout “Sticky” is an instant addition to the Aubrey canon and an unlikely homage to the late Virgil Abloh. Closer “Jimmy Cooks” flipped the formula of the off-guard opener for a momentous ending that stamped Drizzy’s most effective partnership of the 2020s. — Ian Stonebrook
11. 'What a Time to Be Alive' (2015)
Drake’s defining value-add for listeners is confidence, while Future’s superpower is to make toxicity irresistible and repeatable. Stir those two forces together and you’ve got one hell of a party!
What a Time To Be Alive is a good time, not a long one, clocking in at 40 minutes while spanning all emotions tied to pre-game getting dressed, bottle-service excess, and after-hours yearning for lust and connection. That typical formula would usually yield Drake at his shallowest or Future comfortably kicked back, but an apex mountain performance from Metro Boomin brings more anthems and experimentation than should fit into 11 songs. — Ian Stonebrook
10. 'Views' (2016)
Drake puts on for his city with Views, bottling up everything that makes Toronto special. It’s packed with references to local icons like Vince Carter and Glenn Lewis and streets like Kennedy Road. The album’s sequencing is designed to depict the Ontario capital’s bone-chilling winters and humid summers; you can hear it in the chilly, Mavado and Serani-sampling “9” and Caribana-ready riddims “Controlla,” “One Dance,” and “Too Good,” with Rihanna.
Hometown pride aside, some of Drake’s most beloved songs live here. “Feel No Ways” is an irresistible singalong while “Child’s Play” features hip-hop’s G.O.A.T. Cheesecake Factory reference. Still, too many forgettable lulls hold Views back (see: “Faithful” and “Redemption”). No number of CN Tower or “Hotline Bling” memes can make up for the fact that this thing is too damn long and, at times, drowsy. — John Kennedy
9. 'Scorpion' (2018)
Everyone’s wondering how Drake will respond to a massive public loss, but the reality is, he’s already done it at least once. Following what was supposed to be a catastrophic defeat at the hands of Pusha T, Drizzy responded the best way he knew how: with a barrage of hits. Released at the end of June eight years ago, Scorpion is, in spurts, pantheon 6ix God. Most rappers are lucky to have one song of the summer in their career. On Scorpion alone, Drake had two, with “Nice for What” and “In My Feelings” hitting No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. And that was after he’d already secured the top slot with “God’s Plan” that past winter. But it wasn’t just hits. For the Preemo-produced “Sandra’s Rose,” his flows are as acrobatic as they are incisive, and “Nonstop” is iconic trap music reimagined through the lens of Toronto’s finest quasi-mob boss. Scorpion doesn’t lack as much as it overflows; by the middle of the second disc, it feels like a test of endurance, with Drake’s self-centeredness dragging it down like a weighted vest during a marathon. — Peter A. Berry
8. 'Her Loss' (2022)
Hyped as it was, What a Time to Be Alive was never the union folks hoped it would be. In 2015, Drake hadn’t yet perfected the sinister boss raps he’d master a few years later, and his forays into murky Metro beats felt out of place next to Hendrix’s gurgling trap melodies. There were some highs, but it was all too disjointed to coalesce into something great. Let’s just say Her Loss was more than a course correction. For this one, Drizzy and 21 Savage operate like 2k12 LeBron and DWade, alternating between roles as they decide when and how they want to dominate. Drizzy goes gangster (“Major Distribution”) and 21 goes soft (“Spin Bout You”), putting the vocals he flexes in IG Live karaoke sessions to good use. Rather than any one of them sacrificing, the two manage to inhabit opposite habitats in a way that feels familiar rather than foreign. “3 AM on Glenwood” is 21’s stab at Drake’s timestamp series, and he manages to be just as introspectively piercing as his 6ix God brother. Meanwhile, Drake won the award for most ruthless bar on the whole project. “Tell your guys to hold off on thе team chains / Seem like they may need money for coffins,” he raps on “Major Distribution.” Between woozy, nocturnal R&B, T.I. interpolations, and rhyme exhibitions like “Middle of the Ocean,” Her Loss is Drake and 21’s win. — Peter A. Berry
7. 'Care Package' (2019)
In sneakers, fan-servicing through retro releases and storytelling through fabled samples is always an easy win. Die-hards feel seen while R&D costs are free 99. Drake’s knowledge of self and supporters stole said recipe with 2019’s Care Package: 17 SoundCloud classics repackaged for Spotify streaming.
Is “5 AM in Toronto” better than “Worst Behavior,” or is “How Bout Now” better than “Feel No Ways”? Maybe yes, maybe not. Either way, it’s a damn good reminder that Drake’s cutting room floor is closer to Kanye’s or Michael Jackson’s than, say, the ‘90s rappers critics so commonly compare his catalog to. Sure, Drake doesn’t have an album as important as Illmatic or as innovative as ATLiens. What he does have is a pile of ‘unreleased’ records that evoke instant emotion through AirPods and aux cords for millions of fans who never bought a compact disc. — Ian Stonebrook
6. 'Thank Me Later' (2010)
Drake’s debut album checks all of the boxes. And that’s its greatest flaw.
The 14-track project features the biggest names of the era on beats, bars, and vocals: assists from Lil Wayne, Alicia Keys, The-Dream, Swizz Beatz and Jeezy. There’s the triumphant lead single (“Over”), a nostalgia-bait Aaliyah sample (“Unforgettable”), an earnest lyrical pep talk from Jay-Z (“Light Up”), a Kanye West-produced bop (“Find Your Love”), the contemplative Timbaland-laced outro (“Thank Me Now”). Drizzy set out to do his big one, and crafted the most star-studded, by-the-numbers album that Young Money’s budget could buy.
It’s all very listenable, even years later. But after the genre-melding and boundary-stretching of So Far Gone, Thank Me Later sounded safer than a Swedish prison. Still, Drake’s candor about his come-up — like when he alludes to a nervous date with Rihanna or opens up about being robbed at gunpoint — makes this maiden release an enjoyable time capsule that captures The Boy’s growing pains en route to becoming the man. — John Kennedy
5. 'More Life' (2017)
Let Drake tell it, More Life is not an album; it’s a playlist. A photograph of his mustachioed dad, Dennis Graham, appears on the artwork. Drake’s name does not. At the time of its release, it seemed like some kind of artistic statement. But once you hit play, this collection of songs spins just like the best albums do — with impeccable cross-faded cohesion, snipes at rivals, and Giggs imitating Batman sounds (“KMT”).
More Life is a journey that capably spans hip-hop, R&B, grime, South African house music, Afrobeats, and dancehall. Some of Drake’s hardest raps (“Lose You,” “Do Not Disturb”) live alongside his liveliest dance cuts (“Get It Together”) and straight-up vibes (“Passionfruit”). The Kanye West-featured “Glow” is a rare skip, with its hook being one of hip-hop’s great unsolved crimes. — John Kennedy
4. If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late (2015)
A frigid Friday the 13th in the Big Apple was supposed to be about basketball and Kanye West. 2015’s NBA All-Star Weekend and New York Fashion Week were running in unison, hosting the midseason classic for the first time since teenage Kobe challenged Last Dance MJ while also providing the platform for Yeezy’s Adidas debut.
Like many moments in the 2010s, it was stolen by Drake. If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late was surprise-dropped at the peak of Drake’s powers and conveniently during Kanye’s long-awaited runway moment. The word-of-mouth momentum and Twitter buzz were so strong that the album shattered Spotify's first-week streaming record in its first three days.
Tactical - and perhaps petty - timing was outlasted by timeless music. “Know Yourself” has a case for the most important song in Drake’s catalog as a soul-baring singalong tied to ghostwriting allegations. Meanwhile, “Legend,” “Energy,” and “Jungle” see the then-best rapper alive at his most powerful yet paranoid, poignantly aware of all he’s done and all he might never figure out. — Ian Stonebrook
3. 'So Far Gone' (2009)
Campus life may have been too crazy for Drizzy Drake Rogers, but it didn’t stop him from going to school online. Straddled somewhere between backpack wordsmith and Trey Songz successor, the Degrassi High graduate with a sweet spot for Phonte began taking notes from the genre-fluid forecasting of Wale, Kid Cudi, and other blog-era darlings for something more sporadic yet somehow more focused.
2009’s So Far Gone doubled down on the Heartbreak Drake persona, detonating on Valentine’s Eve via Nation’s byline at NahRight. Very vulnerable while also star-studded, So Far Gone positioned an ascending Aubrey Graham as a potent pen who could hold his own on a boutique soundscape of Screw Tape throwbacks, indie rock records, and Just Blaze bangers.
Like Lil Wayne, who bodied his hero on “Show Me What You Got” years prior, Drizzy claimed Kanye’s “Say You Will” as his own therapy couch, usurping the 808s sound with help from 40. Despite its somber throughline, the sprawling free project instantly indebted the Toronto teen star to Southern subwoofers and Hot 97 rotation. A lost star was found online, soon outshining XXL Freshmen and headlining the same colleges he once felt alone at. — Ian Stonebrook
2. 'Nothing Was the Same'
When Drake dropped Nothing Was the Same, he went from watching the throne to copping a squat. Along with Noah “40” Shebib, the 6ix God set out to recalibrate the missteps of earlier releases by cutting flab, banishing energy vampires, and balancing singy songs with rappity raps. The result is a cohesive classic that constantly soars, even if it doesn’t climb to the same altitudes as Take Care.
The songs here bleed into each other seamlessly, sometimes within the same track (see: the three-part “Tuscan Leather,” a delicious Heatmakerz homage). And the songwriting is some of the most poetic you’ll find in Drake’s discography (“Wish you would learn to love people and use things and not the other way around,” he rhymes on “Connect”). There’s a fair share of firepower here, too. You can’t deny the unbridled energy of “Worst Behavior,” the karaoke mainstay “Hold On, We’re Going Home,” the subliminal darts on “The Language,” and the underdog anthem “Started From the Bottom.” Drake’s third album made him king. Nothing has been the same since. — John Kennedy
1. 'Take Care' (2011)
Comparing Drake to 2Pac is a wonderful way to get YouTube engagement or go viral on First Take. While the two teenage thespians-turned-GOAT MC adults are often pitted against each other on the basis of authenticity or implied toughness, their defining throughline is often overlooked: work ethic.
2Pac’s relentless output and ability to turn the studio into a 24/7 P90X circuit made the likes of Scarface and Snoop Dogg revere him as though he were hip hop’s MJ or Kobe. While more Steph Curry in his presentation, Drake’s commitment to constantly recording is why he’s still here, and we’re all here right now.
Drake supposedly started Take Care the night before Thank Me Later was released. Working through any chances of a sophomore slump with the weight of a Doggystyle debut on his back, Drake turned 40 into Tim Grover for an insular sound of blockbuster proportions.
Producing more singles than a Backstreet Boys album, with the range and promise So Far Gone prophesied, Take Care solidified Drake not only as the most malleable and talented performer hip-hop had ever seen, but also as an auteur capable of bridging Bay Area hyphy and Stevie Wonder harmonica solos into a profoundly personal signature sound. — Ian Stonebrook
