After chopping it up in an early ’00s indie-rap marketplace that was on the verge of oversaturation, billy woods re-emerged after a largely collaborative decade with the most appropriately titled aging-head declaration of a still-thriving second act. As definitive as his later-decade work both solo and with Armand Hammer feels, it’s still staggering to hear him unleash this now-familiar voice — personal-as-political lyrics delivered in indestructible verbal typesetting, a proper heir to the relentless all-seeing intensity of collaborator (and last-track feature) Vordul Mega from Cannibal Ox. Moreso when the beats fall closer to Death Grips than 9th Wonder when it comes to harshness.