Pitchfork Editors Pick Mobb Deep’s 'The Infamous' as Greatest Rap Album; Readers Crown Nas’s 'Illmatic'

Mobb Deep’s “The Infamous” and Nas’s “Illmatic” became the center of debate after Pitchfork’s editors and readers named different albums the greatest rap record of all time. 

For decades, arguments over the greatest rap album lived in barbershops, dorm rooms, and late-night debates between fans who knew every lyric by heart. This week, the fight played out on the record. 

On Tuesday, Pitchfork’s editors declared Mobb Deep’s “The Infamous” the best rap album of all time. A day later, readers pushed back, voting Nas’s “Illmatic” into the top spot. Two visions of rap history, 24 hours apart — proof that hip-hop’s memory is less a monument than a moving target.

Pitchfork had invited the clash. On Aug. 25, it opened a readers’ poll asking fans to rank the greatest rap albums; thousands responded. When the results were published Wednesday, the comparison to the editorial list was explicit. The result was a cultural referendum: editors celebrated bleak Queensbridge realism; fans rallied behind an album that defined New York lyricism and spoke to generations.

 

Editors vs. Readers — Top 5

Pitchfork Editors (Tuesday)

1. “The Infamous” — Mobb Deep (1995)
2. “All Eyez on Me” — 2Pac (1996)
3. “400 Degreez” — Juvenile (1998)
4. “Supreme Clientele” — Ghostface Killah (2000)
5. “Illmatic” — Nas (1994)

Full editors’ list

Pitchfork Readers (Wednesday)

1. “Illmatic” — Nas (1994)
2. “Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)” — Wu-Tang Clan (1993)
3. “To Pimp a Butterfly” — Kendrick Lamar (2015)
4. “good kid, m.A.A.d city” — Kendrick Lamar (2012)
5. “The Marshall Mathers LP” — Eminem (2000)

Full readers’ poll

Flashpoints: Editors’ list snubs Drake, Jay-Z, Lil Wayne, and Eminem. Readers surge for Kendrick. Lauryn Hill remains the only woman in the critics’ top 10.

The editorial list leaned toward innovation and grit. Alongside “The Infamous,” the top five included 2Pac’s “All Eyez on Me,” Juvenile’s “400 Degreez,” Ghostface Killah’s “Supreme Clientele,” and “Illmatic” at No. 5. Southern classics and underground landmarks sat shoulder to shoulder with only one woman in the top ten — Lauryn Hill’s “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.”

Fans, by contrast, elevated cultural resonance. Their top rankings were led by “Illmatic,” followed by Wu-Tang Clan’s “Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers),” Kendrick Lamar’s “To Pimp a Butterfly” and “good kid, m.A.A.d city,” with Eminem’s “The Marshall Mathers LP” rounding out the top five. The poll showed younger generations pulling recent classics into the same conversation as ’90s staples.

Online, the omissions drew outrage. On Reddit and X, fans blasted the lack of Jay-Z, Lil Wayne, Ice Cube, The Roots, and other staples, while questioning why women MCs beyond Lauryn Hill were left off the critics’ top 25.

The divide is revealing. For critics, “The Infamous” represents the pinnacle of craft — cold-blooded imagery and soundscapes that redefined East Coast rap. For fans, “Illmatic” is scripture: a lyrical coming-of-age story that still feels lived, remembered, and quoted 30 years later. Both changed rap; only one can be called the greatest, depending on who’s asked.

 

Fan Reactions

The lists sparked heated debate across X and Reddit. Some fans called it “wild” that no Jay-Z or Drake albums appeared in the critics’ top 25, while others said the readers’ embrace of Kendrick Lamar proved newer generations are reshaping the canon.

On r/hiphopheads, one thread argued that Lauryn Hill being the only woman in the editors’ top 10 showed how narrow the definition of greatness still is. Another popular post praised Nas’s “Illmatic” topping the readers’ poll: “It’s the one album everyone still quotes, 30 years later.”

What makes this moment remarkable is not who won, but what it says about power. For decades, critical institutions curated hip-hop’s registry. In the streaming era, fans now challenge that authority with votes, playlists, and viral debates. It is less about a fixed canon than a contest — a tug-of-war over memory itself.

And maybe that’s the truest measure of rap’s vitality. A genre born from turntables in the Bronx, raised on battles and bravado, refuses to be frozen. When Mobb Deep and Nas trade the crown in 2025, it isn’t indecision — it’s affirmation. Hip-hop is still alive, still argued over, still ours.