As one of hip-hop's premier producers, Kanye West has laid tracks for practically everyone who's anyone. As a rapper, though, he's a nobody, just a beat-maker lucky enough to get a verse in on other people's tracks. But I hope that won't be the case for long.

In October of 2002, West smashed up his jaw in a car wreck that could have killed him. Shaken by the accident, he jumped in the booth with his jaw still wired shut and, over a stunning Chaka Khan-sampled beat, spit "Through the Wire." Describing his experience in the crash with self-effacing humor and uncommon flow, even with his mouth knocked out, what Kanye had in "Through the Wire" was undeniable. The song set the stage for The College Dropout, his debut record and the first real showcase of his talents as an M.C.

It's not that hard to see why West was slept on for so long; when he talks about how his rhymes aren't about "coke and birds, but more like spoken word," he's right to note that distinction in these days of 50 Cent. His clever, non-violent flow owes as much to Jay-Z and Nas as it does to A Tribe Called Quest and Guru: It's heavily poetic but never soft. And he's a great enough producer he didn't need to rap to make his mark on hip-hop. When he rhymes, though, you realize that the game has a new superstar. And this time, the hype is well deserved.

The College Dropout is a masterstroke, a gospel-drenched, practically note-perfect rumination on growing up, getting famous and doing what you always wanted. It's a shame West's been hiding behind the boards this long, because rap's needed an album like this for a long time. He's not just good, he's incredible and one of the most powerful voices to emerge in practically a decade.

"All Falls Down," one of Dropout's many undisputed classics, pairs what is possibly Dropout's best narrative with Syleena Johnson's soulful take on the Lauryn Hill-penned hook. The triumphant "Jesus Walks" discusses hip-hop spirituality, "Spaceship" is about working too hard for too little, and "We Don't Care" explains the struggle of urban youth, all of it delivered beautifully over epic beats. Track-for-track, Dropout is nearly flawless, and unlike most rap records, it's not just a collection of singles, but a statement of purpose.

The College Dropout sports guest spots by some of the best emcees in the game, but West manages to out-rhyme every last one of them. Listening to Jay-Z and West trade verses on "Never Let Me Down" makes you realize that the torch has been passed; the kid has Jay beat, and it's not even one of the better songs. Next to West's flow, even master lyricists Common, Mos Def and Talib Kweli all sound like they're taking notes. West never falters.

If there's any misstep on Dropout, it's "The New Workout Plan," a good song that just seems way out of place amongst the socially-conscious tracks surrounding it. Even the skits are funny. Every verse he spits is genius, and every track is a stunner.

This is as promising and self-assured a debut album as rap has ever seen; on par with Nas' Illmatic and maybe even Biggie's Ready to Die in both lyricism and style. We reviewers tend to err towards hyperbole, so let me just leave with the truth. I buy a lot of records, and I love hip-hop. I haven't heard a hip-hop record as good as The College Dropout in a long time, and I don't expect another one any time soon. West is hip-hop. Get behind him now.