Snoop Dogg's 25 most essential tracks, ranked

An early example of how Snoop Dogg cannily placed himself within a lineage that stretched back years, “Doggy Dogg World” emphasizes his connection to the smooth soul of the 1970s. The presence of The Dramatics, one of the greatest R&B harmony groups of the ’70s—they cut the classics “Whatcha See is What You Get” and the smoldering “In the Rain”—makes this heritage plain, as does the accompanying video with its Blaxploitation lore. But what makes the track work is how Snoop doesn’t replicate this vibe, he builds upon it.

A bit of a throwback for Snoop when it was released in 2008, “Life of Da Party” revives G-Funk for the late 2000s: the ’70s funk vibe remains strong but the rhythms are stiffer, as are the swaths of synths. What distinguishes the track is how there’s not much menace here: Snoop is residing as the grand impresario of good times, keeping the vibes chill and giving plenty of space for his guests—which include Too Short and Mistah F.A.B.—to have fun, too.

There is only one person who could rival Snoop Dogg’s role as Ambassador of Weed: that would be Willie Nelson, the longhaired outlaw from Texas. When Snoop debuted in the early 1990s, their two worlds seemed bound to never intersect, but by 2012, the rapper was an icon in his own right, making him an ideal guest for “Roll Me Up (and Smoke Me When I Die),” a salute to the pleasures of smoke. Snoop sings here instead of rapping, getting by on his amiable charm and crooked smile.

The last single pulled from R&G (Rhythm & Gangsta): The Masterpiece, Snoop Dogg’s second collaboration with the Neptunes, “Signs” illustrated just how dramatically the rapper changed his game in a short amount of time. The Neptunes create a jubilant salute to early 1980s R&B, owing a significant debt to Michael Jackson—a connection they underscore by inviting Justin Timberlake, the number one MJ fan of the early 2000s, to sing the hooks. That slight retro feel is ideal for Snoop Dogg: he doesn’t sound out of place in this sweeter setting. He rolls through the changes, proving that no matter the environment he remains thoroughly himself.

Doggystyle is littered with flights of profanity but “Ain’t No Fun (If the Homies Can’t Have None)” is probably the dirtiest moment on the record, a party jam where Snoop Dogg, Warren G, Nate Dogg and Kurupt trade verses, among other things. It’s unrepentant filth elevated by a blissed-out beat poached in part from Isaac Hayes’ “A Few More Kisses to Go.” The track revels in the satiny grooves of the 1970s, so much so that it can sometimes be easy to overlook the smutty rhymes fueling the song.

Two years can be a long time. Case in point: by the time Snoop Dogg released Tha Doggfather in 1996, once invincible Death Row Records was rapidly imploding, threatening to take Snoop’s career along with it. Only one single was pulled from the album: “Snoop’s Upside Ya Head,” a jubilant recasting of the Gap Band’s “I Don’t Believe You Want To Get Up And Dance (Oops)” featuring the group’s Charlie Wilson. With its heavy bass bounce and Snoop’s tripping cadences, it’s light on its feet, a vibe that separates it from the Doggystyle singles. Snoop would quickly figure out how to mine this good-time vibe, but this amounts to the last gasp of G-Funk, for better or worse.

After nearly a decade of pursuing lively dance and pop directions, Snoop Dogg reconnected with his gangast traditions on 2009’s Malice In Wonderland. Its third single, “I Wanna Rock,” twists a Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock sample so it feels stoned and narcotic, fueling a thick, heavy update of G-Funk; Dr Dre himself mixed the Scoop DeVille production. The striking thing about “I Wanna Rock” is how it effectively modernizes Snoop’s ’90s style: it’s lighter in tone, booming in its beat, yet Snoop’s laconic delivery remains surprisingly agile.

The last single pulled from Snoop Dogg’s final album for No Limit, “Lay Low” effectively serves as a farewell not just to Master P’s label but to Snoop’s gangsta period. Filled with guest stars—Master P, Nate Dogg, Tha Eastsidaz and Butch Cassidy all make appearances—“Lay Low” teems with familiar gang imagery. Dr. Dre and Mike Elizondo devise a sleek strutting rhythm that nods to Snoop’s G-Funk past, but still feels focused on the future in a way the rest of the resolutely grimy Tha Last Meal didn’t.

When Katy Perry delivered a love letter to the lovely “California Gurls,” there was only one candidate for a guest verse: Snoop Dogg, the rapper who was thoroughly associated with all the pleasures of the West Coast. Perry’s confection doesn’t have a shred of hip-hop, but Snoop delights in providing a counterpoint to the aural cotton candy, offering a slightly sour edge that still sounds sweet.

Snoop Dogg’s cover of Slick Rick’s immortal “La Di Da Di” on Doggystyle served as something more than a tribute to one of the great pioneers of hip-hop. “Lodi Dodi” helped place Snoop within a lineage, positioning him as an heir to Slick Rick’s eccentric rhymes while also illustrating the distance between the 1980s and 1990s: the beat here is thicker, slower, the lyrics more explicit. Like all great covers, it’s as much about the singer as the song: Snoop Dogg doesn’t really alter Rick’s narrative, but his laconic delivery keeps things spellbinding.

Dr. Dre sampled from all manner of dusty old R&B LPs to create G-Funk, but he favored one particular artist: George Clinton and his P-Funk empire. For “Fuck Wit Dre Day (And Everybody’s Celebratin’),” he spliced elements of Funkadelic’s “(Not Just) Knee Deep” and Clinton’s “Atomic Dog,” the latter providing an easy introduction to Snoop Dogg. When he comes in on the second verse, it’s riding a refrain from “Atomic Dog,” yet Snoop proceeds to not only claim it for himself, he turns Dre’s celebration of his independence from N.W.A. into an anthem exalting his own prowess.

Another cover from Snoop Dogg, “Vapors” found Snoop revisiting Biz Markie’s 1988 classic and giving it a streamlined bounce. Where the Biz seemed barely able to contain himself, Snoop’s speciality is nonchalant reserve, a trait that comes into play here. Sanded of any rough edges, “Vapors” is sinewy and slick, allowing Snoop to slither through the rhythms with a smirk.

A collaboration with BTS and Benny Blanco, “Bad Decisions” picks up the thread dangling from Snoop Dogg’s records with the Neptunes in the early 2000s. Where those tunes were dance-informed hip-hop, this is straight-up modern disco, all glitter-ball beats, retro synths and irrepressible pop hooks. “Bad Decisions” is self-styled bubblegum and Snoop isn’t just along for the ride: his nimble, knowing phrases are part of the reason the single has a lively snap.

A carefree collaboration with Wiz Khalifa that features Bruno Mars, “Young, Wild & Free” is an ode to teenage hedonism that doesn’t succumb to nostalgia. There’s not a trace of wistfulness to the breezy sing-song hook: it’s a cheerful reminiscence about the good times that feels fresh enough to serve as the soundtrack to middle-aged tailgate parties.

Known as “Sexual Eruption” on the Ego Trippin’ album and softened to “Sensual Seduction” when it was released as a single, this track might be the Snoop Dogg’s sexiest jam. It’s an ode to taking it slow, and putting the needs of his partner first. It’s also a long, long way from “Ain’t No Fun (If The Homies Can’t Have None)” and Snoop enjoys the change of pace, luxuriating in the difference between the rapid rhythm and smooth attack. The skittering beat and autotune helps place “Sexual Eruption/Sensual Seduction” squarely in the late 2000s, yet the analog retro gloss keeps the track lively.

The late 1990s were messy times for Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre but they began to mend fences in 1999 when the producer came aboard the rapper’s second No Limit album to helm a handful of tracks. The best of these was “Bitch Please,” a sparse and evocative Dre production that showed how he was progressing from the smoky haze of G-Funk. Many of the same elements are in place—there’s a Parliament sample, after all—but it feels quick and stripped-down, its lithe beat allowing for Snoop to playfully twist his rhymes. While the single didn’t tear up the charts, it had legs: Dre, Snoop, and Xzibit reunited to record “Bitch Please II” with Eminem for The Marshall Mathers LP.

“Beautiful” amounted to nothing less than a rebirth for Snoop Dogg, breaking him free from the gangsta stereotypes that started to swallow him whole at the end of the 1990s. Signing with a major, Snoop aligned himself with the bright, futuristic funk of the Neptunes, producers that revitalized him creatively and commercially. The sleek, stylish rhythms of “Beautiful” are far removed from G-Funk: they’re so shiny and light, they’re nearly reflective. Far from seeming awkward, Snoop thrives in the new setting: his dexterous rhythms are refreshed. “Beautiful” also shows an inherent knack for pop music, a quality Snoop previously ignored and would soon exploit.

With Death Row in shambles, Snoop Dogg decamped for No Limit, the New Orleans hip-hop imprint headed by Master P. “Still a G Thang,” his first single for the label, served as a simultaneous celebration and kiss-off, offering worried fans a sense of continuity while also flipping a bird at his former home. Master P and Meech Wells played with G-Funk tropes, but “Still A G Thang” felt grimier and fresher than anything on Tha Doggfather and Snoop Dogg happily rolled with the changes, proving that he could adapt to shifting trends with ease.

Snoop Dogg mended fences with Dr. Dre nearly as quickly as he broke them. Two years after mocking Death Row with Master P by his side, Snoop returned to the G-Funk fold, rapping alongside Kurupt and Nate Dogg on “The Next Episode,” an explicit sequel to “Nuthin’ But A G Thang.” In some sense this reunion arrived too quickly: in 2000, there wasn’t enough water under the bridge to engender nostalgia, so it peaked at 23 on the Billboard Hot 100. Thanks to its sing-song hook and lithe beat, it grew in stature over the years, winding up opening the hip-hop halftime show at Super Bowl LVI in 2022—proof of the track’s status as a classic.

During the recording of his 1993 debut Doggystyle, Snoop Dogg was arrested and charged with first-degree murder. He’d eventually be acquitted, but during the making and release of Doggystyle, the charge hung heavy over his head, leading to the thick, ominous “Murder Was The Case.” By no means a retelling of the incident at hand, “Murder Was The Case” is a deathbed fantasy vague enough to seem autobiographical, a blend that Snoop exploited with an accompanying short film. Years later, after all the controversy has faded, what remains is the intense paranoia fueling this mini melodrama; it strikes a unique chord in Snoop’s discography.

The theme song to Bill Duke’s cop thriller Deep Cover is where Dr. Dre launched his post-N.W.A. solo career. His first move as a solo act? To introduce the world to Snoop Doggy Dogg, giving his discovery full reign on a moody, noir-ish jam. In some respects, “Deep Cover” is a bit of a transitional record—this isn’t G-Funk, the beat bounces like DJ Muggs—but it still crackles with excitement and, this early on, there’s still a menacing edge to Snoop’s delivery.

“Deep Cover” may have been Snoop Dogg’s first record but “Nuthin’ But A G Thang” effectively served as his true debut. It also was Dr. Dre’s grand unveiling of G-Funk, the stoned, laidback groove grounded in the low-riding rhythms and analog synths of 1970s R&B. So confident was Dre in the power of his rhythms and Snoop’s rhymes, that he didn’t even rap until the second verse, letting Snoop set the pace with a verse whose elasticity can disguise its dexterity. It’s not only a star-making turn, it helped usher in a revolution in 1990s hip-hop.

Thanks to “Deep Cover” and “Nothin’ But A G Thang,” Snoop Dogg was already a star when he released his debut single “Who Am I (What’s My Name)?” in 1993. Effectively a riff upon “Fuck Wit Dre Day,’ “Who Am I (What’s My Name)?” also uses George Clinton’s “Atomic Dog” as Snoop’s anthem. The rest of the record is fleshed out by samples from Parliament’s “Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off the Sucker).” There are elements that make it feel slightly like a retread, so it’s Snoop’s epic swagger that sells the song: he’s boasting because he knows everybody in earshot already knows his name.

“Gin and Juice” is the first single to tap into what turned out to be Snoop Dogg’s enduring appeal: he’s not a gangsta but a laidback ringleader, serving as a conduit for good times. Back in 1994, when “Gin And Juice” ruled the airwaves, Snoop still seemed like a menace to society, so its blissed-out funkafied groove felt like a respite from the likes of “Deep Cover” or “Murder Was The Case.” Turns out, it was ground zero for three decades of chilled-out party music.

A decade removed from the glory days of G Funk, Snoop Dogg teamed with the Neptunes and delivered this masterwork: an elastic dance tune as futuristic as Death Row was retro. “Drop It Like It’s Hot” slithers and slinks, the rhythms have enough space for the synths to slide in between the gaps—the accentuated keyboard stabs and samples function as their own hooks. It’s spare enough to allow Snoop and Pharrell Williams to stretch their phrasing, twisting their words as if they were rubber, their playfulness being essential to the track’s success as the nimble beat.