It’s been three years since J. Cole released KOD, his last album, and announced his next project, The Off-Season. Since then, he’s maintained a contentious place in hip-hop in no small part due to thinly veiled criticisms he’s lobbed at other rappers like Kanye West, Lil Pump and Noname on tracks like “False Prophets,” “1985” and “Snow on tha Bluff.”

While his thoughts on blind adoration of musicians and the superficial artistry of the “Lil’s” are valid, others have been critical of his music as patronizing and self-righteous, highlighting a level of disconnect that comes with attaining significant success. But on The Off-Season, J. Cole grapples with self-awareness about his status as a musician while reflecting on his own experiences.

The album opens with “9 5 . s o u t h” with fuzzy grand piano that gradually warps into a triumphant rocking organ and horn melody. Cam’ron opens that track to hype up listeners as Cole then raps about his success as a multi-hit, multiplatinum artist, then closes with a sample of Lil Jon’s vocals from “Put Yo Hood Up.” The next track, “a m a r i,” takes a look at Cole’s upbringing and how desperation and violence served as the backdrop—over a plucky acoustic trap beat with rattling snares.

Rapper 21 Savage makes an appearance on “m y . l i f e,” where both rappers explore how tragedy and hardship led them to develop strong characters. J. Cole examines his hunger for financial success, rapping about seeing his peers sell drugs and working menial labor, feeding his desire to attain super-stardom and wealth. “A p p l y i n g . p r e s s u r e” slows things down with a subdued boom-bap arrangement and an echoing horn melody as Cole examines how own his success has informed his artistry. His desire to grow and explore while remaining genuine to his vision sharply contrasts that of his peers in hip-hop who maintain a façade of a street-hardened hedonist.

“P u n c h i n ‘ . t h e . c l o c k” keeps on with the boom-bap sound as Cole examines his personal trauma from experiencing first-hand violence as a child, and the subsequent, sustained sense of anxiety and isolation that came with it. In a way, the song is reminiscent of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. That work also examines guilt feeding into anxiety and isolation, as well as how the inability to relay or discuss the matter with others can exacerbate those feelings due to the paradoxical necessity to bottle it up for maintaining appearances. The song by hip-hop star/basketball player J. Cole also samples a post-game talk by basketball star/hip-hop artist Damian Lillard (Dame D.O.L.L.A.).

“P r i d e . i s . t h e . d e v i l” revives the plucky, acoustic guitar trap melody—and samples Aminé’s “Cant Decide”—as J. Cole examines how the prideful nature of those around him has destroyed lives, relationships and even left a subconscious distrust of those offering him praise. It’s followed by the equally contemplative “l e t . g o . m y . h a n d,” where he spirals down a rabbit hole of feelings about his artistry, family, relationships, religion and death.

At this point, death becomes a prominent theme on the album, with tracks like “t h e . c l i m b . b a c k,” on which Cole examines the nature of gun violence in America. It’s followed by “c l o s e,” featuring samples of MF DOOM’s “Valerian Root.” On this track he chronicling a friend’s descent into the darker corners of street life and how it ultimately led to the friend’s untimely death.

While it’s conceivable that some might find J. Cole continuing to struggle with posturing about his success and being above the fray, it’s undeniable that The Off-Season exemplifies his willingness to reflect on his character.

Follow editor Tim Hoffman at Twitter.com/hipsterp0tamus.