Few artists in hip-hop have carved out a lane as distinct and unwavering as Pusha T. For over two decades, he’s maintained a cold-blooded consistency—his flows, his coke-rap imagery, his ear for elite production—each sharpened to a fine point. He doesn’t just rap about the game; he documents it like a veteran, with surgical precision and unrelenting focus.

It’s Almost Dry, his long-awaited follow-up to 2018’s Daytona, arrives with the weight of high expectations—and for the most part, it delivers. Clocking in at 12 tracks, the album splits its production duties between two of hip-hop’s most influential minds: Pharrell Williams and Kanye West. Each brings a signature touch, with Pharrell leaning into eerie minimalism and Ye layering soulful samples over hard-knocking drums.

Early singles like “Diet Coke” and “Hear Me Clearly” reestablish Pusha’s menace with quick precision. The former, produced by Kanye, is an instant head-nodder—short, sharp, and signature Pusha. “Hear Me Clearly,” meanwhile, finds him laser-focused, delivering lines with icy confidence over Nigo’s sleek production.

Tracks like “Brambleton” and “Let the Smokers Shine the Coupes” showcase the best of what this album offers—high-stakes verses matched by cinematic production. “Dreamin of the Past” feels like a throwback to Ye’s sample-heavy glory days, while “Neck & Wrist” sees Jay-Z returning to his own dope-boy mythology alongside Push. “Open Air” and “I Pray for You” close the project on a high note, both sonically and thematically.

That said, not everything lands cleanly. “Call My Bluff” still feels uneven in tone and energy, and “Rock N Roll,” despite its all-star lineup, lacks cohesion. Kid Cudi’s late arrival doesn’t quite stick the landing, and Ye’s contribution feels less urgent than usual. Given the backstory between Ye and Cudi, the song arrives burdened with outside drama that doesn’t enhance the music.

My biggest critique isn’t with the individual songs—most of which are strong—but with the album’s overall cohesion. There’s a sense that It’s Almost Dry is caught between two visions: one driven by Ye’s soulful grit, the other by Pharrell’s synthetic cool. Both have merit, but the split production sometimes leads to a fragmented listening experience. The transitions don’t always gel, and there’s a thematic looseness that’s hard to ignore.

Still, it’s hard to deny the album’s craft. Pusha T is as sharp as ever, delivering dense, quotable bars without compromising his brand. He’s not trying to reinvent himself—he’s doubling down, refining. Whether or not the album feels “complete” may depend on what you come to Pusha T for: a tightly woven concept, or twelve diamond-cut bricks of lyrical excellence.

Either way, It’s Almost Dry proves once again that nobody plays Pusha’s lane better than he does.