In just its first quarter, 2014 has witnessed its share of high profile releases. ScHoolboy Q unleashed his major label debut, OXYMORON, while Rick Ross’ continued his growth with concept and cohesion in Mastermind. Kid Cudi surprised everybody with a sneak-attack release, while Kid Ink, The Stepbrothers, and Isaiah Rashad made serious dents in the conversation and consciousness of the culture. This past week, YG contributed to Compton’s renaissance in My Krazy Life, while another Def Jam Records act of yesteryear, ONYX, made their first album in 11 years with WakeDaFucUp. One could argue that 2014 is off to a formidable start, and that the playing field is further leveled between independent and major label artist, old and new, and any region and style of Rap music.

In recent years, Gangsta Rap has been seemingly forgotten among new releases. Top tier artists like Rick Ross, Lil Wayne, Jadakiss and Meek Mill certainly uphold the by-any-means necessary approach, making records about past exploits and riding dirty. However, the albums to which these records belong are largely all-encompassing looks that touch on love (or lust), celebrity lifestyles, and a healthy distrust of everything from the bird’s eye view at the top. They are not so much the street-corner sermons that made the subgenre famous. On the other side, artists traditionally known for these messages, for instance Killer Mike, E-40, or Raekwon, have all made albums with diversified concepts. Mike’s 2012 R.A.P. had all the attitude and political insight of early Ice Cube, but also focused on the state of Rap music. E-40’s plethora of yearly albums tap into a regional sound, seemingly aiming for music that resonates with the strip clubs and venues as much as the sideshows and street corners from which he came. In my opinion, it could be argued that T.I.’s stellar 2008 release Paper Trail was a clever juxtaposition of gangsta lyrics over Pop-minded beats, but Tip was rhyming primarily about his own experiences. An exceptional album, yes, but hardly something that spoke for the masses of Southwest Atlanta or anywhere else.

While Kendrick Lamar’s arguably-flawless good kid, m.A.A.d city felt like an album from Compton should, it wasn’t really Gangsta Rap. Part of what makes K-Dot so remarkable is that he’s of the world more than in it. Kendrick’s subtle storytelling on “The Art Of Peer Pressure” is quite a different tune than Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dogg’s “Lil’ Ghetto Boy” or Kool G Rap et al’s “Two To The Head.” He’s in the backseat watching it unfold omnisciently, more than the take-by-force tactics that dominated the message of early ‘90s greats.

Of course, there have been some Gangsta Rap releases over the years. Within Lamar’s Black Hippy crew, Jay Rock’s 2011 debut, “Follow Me Home”, was a vivid tour through Watts by a young head raised by the O.G.’s. Game also continued his several year run of banging on wax with Jesus Piece. Yet, something feels different with the releases of OXYMORON and Pinata. Whether it is the sheer proximity of their release dates, the brute force of their authenticity or otherwise, it feels like these two albums could be the beginning of a new Gangsta Rap movement.

OXYMORON, at the surface, references ScHoolboy Q’s drug of choice throughout his early twenties. The rapper has been open about his growing addiction to painkillers and numbing away at the life he was living. The extended title track from the album is as personal of songwriting as you can get from Q, as he describes his bottom, and bouncing back. Whatever the vice is, this is something to which Q’s listeners (and anybody, really) can likely relate. However, “OXYMORON” as it applies to the second rapper to refer to himself as “Puffy” also pulls from a bygone experience in 2010s-era America. ScHoolboy Q is a Crip. Raised in South Central Los Angeles, the high school athlete grew up in a neighborhood where sets still prevailed, and the teenager succumbed to his environmental expectations. It can be a little odd to witness Nardwuar asking Q about his gang-banging days, in a culture where guys like WC, DJ Quik, and even Murs were so careful about stating associations on wax, for fears of what it meant in the streets. Having come up as a member of the Hoover Crips (the same gang once reportedly linked to late Soul icon Barry White), ScHoolboy Q is now seen as a joke-cracking, outcast in tie-dye bucket hats and ponchos. Compared to even Jay Rock, regularly wearing his red cap and Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers, ScHoolboy Q’s image of “gangsta” does not conform to a mainstream expectation.

Perception is one thing. Reality is another. Artists have long been able to look back with clarity on mistakes. Murs, who also comes from neighboring streets to Black Hippy, chronicled a difficult experience in his past on “A Friend’s Blues.” Listening to OXYMORON’s “Hoover Street,” “Gangsta” or “Fuck LA,” you get a similar sense. Q describes his upbringing with visceral details. From hearing about roaches in his cereal to learning his grandmother showed him his first gun, you can understand or at least sympathize with what prompted the artist to go the route that he did. Moreover, ScHoolboy Q does not ever downplay his younger days, but with the same apathy that led him into his addictions, there is a strong sense of “For what?” And, while the Bangin’ On Wax records that Nardwuar shows ScHoolboy exploited the bandana republic of the streets of Los Angeles, ScHoolboy Q is deeply respectful of the dangers such references may hold.

Although he’s lived in L.A. for years now, another 2014 album-maker, Freddie Gibbs is the antithesis of so much of what is going on in Hip-Hop. Gibbs hails from Gary, Indiana—a city that’s garnered national attention for its seemingly hopeless economy, crime rate, and rusty decline. Although he now calls Los Angeles home, Gangsta Gibbs has brought his world with him, in life and in music. The sleepy-eyed Freddie frequently sprinkles interviews with uncensored opinions of his peers and the state of the art. Moreover, the rapper with clear, sometimes downplayed, ties to the streets is someone who is unafraid of a public confrontation, such as the one at South By Southwest a few years back, or getting cited for packing weed in his checked travel bags. In the streets of the Midwest, Freddie Gibbs has amassed a reputation that almost supercedes his rapping. It is this “I don’t give a fuck” attitude and lifestyle that has earned him the title “Gangsta Gibbs,” and his gangsta is on full display on his latest album.

Pinata (or Cocaine Pinata, as it was long known) is—to quote AZ—rather unique. Freddie Gibbs speaks his mind, as he’s done on every mixtape, street album, and studio release for the last five years. Gangsta Gibbs calls out the institutional racism in the world and brings listeners on a tour of the do or die streets of his hometown, all while discussing filling up his old school Monte Carlo with weed smoke, and leaving ladies lonely just moments after sex. This album, an early fan favorite from so many, is the biggest statement Freddie has made since his 2009 MidwestGangstaBoxframeCadillacMuzik mixtape.

Like ScHoolboy, Freddie Gibbs’ story goes back plenty of years before the Adidas endorsement deal, and nods from Scarface and Raekwon. After cracking the Top 200 of the charts throughout the last several years thanks to EPs, retail mixtapes, and compilations, Freddie teamed with Madlib, an unlikely sonic source for a Midwestern MC influenced by producers such as Tone Capone or N.O. Joe, of Rap-A-Lot glory days. With half of Freddie’s management coming from a background at Stones Throw Records, Gary’s own teamed with Madlib for a series of sessions that would later amass to Pinata. The album, with dusty loops, film dialogue, and far-reaching sample sources, is as purist of Hip-Hop production on a Gangsta Rap album as you’ve heard in years. Just as Dr. Dre took on Snoop Dogg, and Marley Marl helmed albums by Kool G Rap, Pinata is a reminder that “Gangsta Rap” does not exclusively mean anything as it pertains to production. The same producer whose beats were the backdrops to albums by MF DOOM, Percee P, and Dudley Perkins can just as easily find explosive chemistry with Gangsta Gibbs, as he did some years back with another squad, Strong Arm Steady.

Close listens to Pinata feel reminiscent of albums like Dogg Food or The Fix. “Harold’s” uses fast food to veil the bars about a street-tough hustler getting his meals in transit, with a pistol tucked in his pants, waiting for a schoolgirl tryst at three o’clock. “Broken” is far more introspective. Teaming with ‘Face, Gibbs shows remorse in the darker actions in his past, trying to gain perspective on the path before it’s too late. “Real” is a fearless reminder of the shots-fired nature of Gangsta Rap. If Lil B and Joe Budden’s Internet battle lacked the stakes of DPG calling out Da’Brat in 1994, Gibbs continues to grind his axe against Young Jeezy, following a botched one-year deal. Sheer storytelling and contrasting approaches let Gibbs, a clear David, attack his Goliath on a brassy sample. Just as with Ice Cube’s “No Vaseline” or Kurupt’s “Callin’ Out Names,” this is not a sport for Gibbs. Instead, he attacks his wrongdoer, snugged away on an album that employs concept, metaphor, and some chilling accounts of what it took to survive the times.

Although there are a lot of ties to each album (BJ The Chicago Kid, Raekwon, the Ab-Soul connection), OXYMORON and Pinata sound nothing alike. Musically, the albums come from entirely different places. Yet both albums, not trying to recreate 1995, or put their allegiances on the cover, are definitively and defiantly, Gangsta Rap. Both artists remind Hip-Hop that the streets still have their own codes, expectations, and moral compasses. Both artists are shaping their own identities, but are still unabashedly products of their environment.

After years of artists all reaching to sound like their peers, and stories and accounts that may have sounded good, but begged the question of fabrication—Pinata and OXYMORON are genuine articles. Neither are glorified, or too righteous, and both artists remind Rap fans that authenticity endures, no matter how complex the subject or circumstance.

Related: ScHoolboy Q Comes Clean on OXYMORON (Album Review)