Reasonable Doubt stands as one of rap music’s essential albums, not to mention one of its greatest debuts. It profoundly captures the inner life of the above-average corner kid, especially on songs like “Dead Presidents” and “Regrets,” as well as the lyrically dextrous “22 Twos.”  

 The album seemed like a corrective measure in the opposite direction of the debut, bearing all the marks of an artist with his eye on a larger pop prize, to the detriment of his art. The dark ethos of his debut was missing almost entirely. 

 The quirkily brilliant “Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem),” took him from the ears of the cognoscenti to those of casual rap fans and sent Vol. 2 to the upper reaches of the charts. But Jay used the remainder of Vol. 2 to showcase the skills that had earned him his reputation.  

 Life & Times of S. Carter took this combination of style and substance to its apotheosis. In addition to maintaining a strong lyrical presence, Jay also showcased his talents as a master of flow, changing cadences and rhyme patterns with impressive regularity and flexibility.  

 Dynasty: Roc La Familia was only a merely strong effort bridging the gap to Jay-Z's second true masterpiece, The Blueprint.  

 In the era of radio-friendly rap, The Blueprint is one of the few true coherent masterpieces. Thanks to the soul-drenched production work of then-rookies Just Blaze and Kanye West, Jay-Z was suddenly grappling with a worldview that surpassed his previous limits. 

 Another nostalgia-soaked live album fails to bring the rebirth the "Unplugged" brand lent some others. 

 Surprising, then, that Jay’s next effort was the bloated Blueprint 2, the first true misstep of his career. The double album had barely enough strong songs (“Meet the Parents,” “Excuse Me Miss,” “A Dream”) for an EP.  

 A virtual who’s-who of great hip-hop producers contributed songs, as did Eminem and, in a thrilling move, Rick Rubin. Old-school and utterly modern, it showed Jay at the top of his game, able to reinvent himself at the right time, as if to cement his place in hip-hop’s legacy. 

 His quickly issued revision, Blueprint 2.1, slimmed to one disc with bonus tracks, was no better than its predecessor.  

 Jay-Z knew gangsta rap was kid’s stuff and wanted to come back to the game as an full-grown CEO on Kingdom Come–rapping about good credit, smoking cigars, running companies and chilling in his beach chair.  

 American Gangster is Jay-Z’s return to gangsterisms (or, as he says, “that ignorant shit you like”), but is presented as a concept album loosely based on the Ridley Scott blockbuster about drug kingpin Frank Lucas. It’s as if he’s suddenly remembered how to have fun. 

 By 2009, Southern mixtape machines and R&B-tinged MySpace superstars had officially superceded Jay’s status as the biggest thing in rap, so he positioned himself as something bigger than rap itself, complete with U2-styled arena shows and a timeless “new Sinatra” cool.