A Guide to Michigan Rap, 2020’s Most Exciting Regional Scene
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In familial terms, when it comes to Michigan’s rap scene, Detroit is the older sibling with trophies on the shelf, and Flint is the step-sibling who rips the heads off Barbie dolls, feeds junk food to the pets, and skips school to have cyphers in the park. Together, these two cities, and their surrounding areas, have made Michigan hip-hop flourish this year, forcing the traditional rap hubs to pay attention or be left behind.
Since the early aughts, when influential rap crews the Street Lord’z and Eastside Chedda Boyz were making moves, Detroit has been the home to one of hip-hop’s most thrilling and competitive rap scenes. But aside from superstars like Eminem and Big Sean, the majority of the scene has been limited by a Midwest bubble. It’s most likely because the rap music in Detroit has rarely tried to sound like it’s from anywhere else. The city’s rappers and producers often feel completely removed from bigger trends, as if they exist below the surface, like the underground rebels in Demolition Man. No matter what, though, the beats will be composed of funky basslines, hectic drum patterns, and ominous piano melodies, and the raps will be filled with reckless verses heavy on non-sequiturs. For Detroit hip-hop artists, their city is the center of the world.
But slowly the larger rap universe has begun to appreciate the Detroit scene. The foundation of its current popularity was laid in the early 2010s through the emergence of groups like Team Eastside and Doughboyz Cashout. It then exploded in the second half of the decade with records that were inescapable to anyone paying attention to hip-hop, like Tee Grizzley’s “First Day Out” and Sada Baby and Drego’s “Bloxk Party,” both of which broke through without sacrificing the groovy Detroit production or the darkly humorous—and probably offensive—punchlines. This groundwork set the scene up for a breakthrough, which finally happened in 2020, though it was pushed over the edge by the emergence of a smaller rap city about an hour north via I-75.
In 2018, longtime Detroit staple and Team Eastside head honcho Peezy heard a verse from roughhousing and hilarious (that is, if you think Joe Pesci smashing a bottle on the waiter’s head in Goodfellas is funny) Flint rapper Rio Da Yung OG for the first time. Peezy immediately brought Rio to the Eastside of Detroit, where he helped him hone his aggressive, shit-talking style.
Rio helped introduce a pack of over-the-top rappers that were previously either floundering in Flint’s underdeveloped hip-hop ecosystem or not taking the artform seriously. Animated rappers like RMC Mike, Louie Ray, YN Jay, and more emerged alongside beats similar to those in Detroit, except faster-paced and with a lot more Chicago drill-influenced church bells. The flows were clearly influenced by Detroit rap, too, but the punchlines were decidedly edgier: On Rio’s 2019 single “Legendary” he told a story about how he got so fed up at a woman’s son for interrupting them during sex that he stole his video game console and put it up for sale.
At this point, Detroit and Flint are mutually beneficial to each other, which is a key reason why Michigan rap has been such a force this year. Flint was introduced to Detroit’s resources, structure, and a game plan built on a never-ending stream of DIY music videos and thrown together mixtapes; Detroit got a stylistic jolt of energy from Flint’s fresh blood. Almost every day this year, a memorable song or mixtape had been uploaded to YouTube by artists from the two cities. At the same time, the Midwest bubble has become more porous, as viral moments, modest hits, and the welcomed presence of major voices in the rap zeitgeist like Lil Baby (who signed Detroit’s 42 Dugg) and Lil Uzi Vert (who has built a relationship with Flint’s YN Jay), continue to proliferate far and wide. The center of the rap world may still be Atlanta, but the most exciting rap this year came from Michigan. Here are just a few reasons why.
Check out all of our end-of-year wrap-up coverage here.
There is Bruce Wayne and Batman. Clark Kent and Superman. And now, YN Jay and the Coochie Man. Unlike Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent, though, there are no subtle differences between Jay, who was raised in an area near Flint called Beecher, and his counterpart. Both are floor-humping fanatics of sex and asses (both round and flat).
As his nickname would suggest, the best YN Jay songs are the ones where he’s hornier than the puppy that humps every chair leg in the house. “I’ll never eat the cat, she got coochie hair/I know a nigga eat the cat, he got a coochie beard,” he raps on “Coochie Scout,” at the casual pace of someone ordering a pizza over the phone. Then there’s “Coochie,” which is a spectacle: The highlight of the song is when Jay’s Flint elder Louie Ray gets his verse interrupted by hand claps mimicking the sound of a couple getting busy.
But best of all may be “Coochie Land.” There’s an amusement park-theme intro, an instrumental from Flint production maestro Enrgy Beats that’ll make your heart pound like you just got off a rollercoaster, and constant growls, yawns, and distraught screams from Jay that make it sound as if he’s awake in the middle of a lobotomy. This type of bizarreness has become the norm in Flint.
As it is in Atlanta, Michigan rap’s old and new guards are interwoven. They may not have their own Gucci Mane, but Payroll Giovanni is the next best thing. As one of the members of Doughboyz Cashout, Gio helped establish the template for the modern Michigan rapper in the early 2010s, and his music continues to be impactful. On “Paid in Full,” Gio blends his cocky swagger and deadpan darkness: “All these foreigns in the crew, I hope Trump don’t deport me,” he raps. You can see where so much of the scene got their wicked sense of humor.
Likewise, Boldy James has been floating around Detroit for a decade. His plodding sound may be far removed from Michigan street rap, but his content is not. “Jump with them killers off the porch, we all know who rooting/For the bad guy in the movie smoking on a Cuban,” he raps, menacing as ever, on “Speed Demon Freestyle.”
Then there’s Dej Loaf, whose dainty sing-rap style has never gotten the respect it deserves ever since she broke out six years ago. But her melodic “Cross That Line” is catchy enough to remind you that this Michigan renaissance wouldn’t be the same without her.
Some of the most unconventional Michigan rap songs are the ones that, like Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman, epically highlight the wearisome routine of a life of crime. On “Matlock,” Los’ Topside-produced single from G Shit Vol. 1, one of Detroit’s best mixtapes of the year, the rapper uses his weathered voice to tell stories about tense drives over state lines, paranoia, and endless work hours. Mo Money and Nuk’s lifestyle is similarly taxing. The duo trade short and energetic verses on “Avengers” about the monotonous days spent involved in get-rich-quick schemes. Among these grizzled storytellers, the organized crime-obsessed Damedot’s music isn’t quite as tiring. “Washed My Hands” sounds like it takes place in the section of a mafia movie where the protagonist seems invincible—though we all know the stressful moments are soon to come.
Ever since Doughboyz Cashout’s foundational 2012 street hit “Da Mob,” posse cuts have been an institution in Michigan. But listening to four or more rappers all fighting to breathe on the same track can be tough. Take Big Sean’s Frankensteined 2020 track “Friday Night Cypher”: With its star-studded lineup including Eminem, Sada Baby, and Kash Doll, it probably should have been the region’s ensemble record of the year. Yet it’s a monstrosity because it doesn’t feel organic.
By contrast, the greatest Michigan group cuts sound like they were made on a whim, as if five rappers unexpectedly wound up in a studio together and got into an argument about who could lay down the most memorable 16. That’s part of what makes “Run Down” so good—over a beat with more church bells than the final scene of Vertigo, four Flint rappers (Rio, Louie, E, and Mike), Detroit’s Veeze, and ATL’s Lil Yachty battle about who can say the most appropriately inappropriate shit. (Mike wins for saying he had a “COVID baby.”) “Wack Jumper” is more structured, with Glockboyz Teejae laying down one of the state’s most memorable hooks this year over a mesmerizing Enrgy beat. Cash Kidd’s “See You” falls somewhere between these two, managing to sustain both a loose structure and a competitive spirit. This overall variety of Michigan posse cuts has made it the most fun type of song in the state this year.
Michigan’s rap scene may be built on crews with deeper benches than the 2020 Los Angeles Clippers (let’s pretend the NBA bubble never happened), but there are a few rappers in the region whose work shines solo. The mild-mannered G.T. gives us a peek at his mundane day-to-day life on “Veeze Bag,” making the simple sound poetic. Rapping over the Johnny Gill-sampling “Stop the Beat,” Allstar JR has a velvety touch that you can tell is rooted in a modern regional classic like Payroll Giovanni’s Big Bossin Vol. 1. And the plankton-sized 42 Dugg may have had his breakout moment this year alongside Lil Baby on “We Paid,” but he’s most comfortable on the soulful “It Get Deeper.” “Fell out with my best friend over six grams/Now I ain’t got a best man but I got fans,” raps the Detroit native, who’s always compelling no matter if he’s gloating or reflecting on somber moments.
Lil Yachty is living a double life. There’s Lil Yachty, the Atlanta rapper who does goofy Burger King commercials, has an upcoming dramedy series on HBO Max, and does All That-style costume comedy with Drake. Then there’s Lil Yachty, the aspiring Michigan rapper who tough talks about giving dudes wedgies with Sada Baby.
Yachty’s close ties to Michigan rap began with his 2017 collaboration with Tee Grizzley, “From the D to the A,” and they have really flourished this year. On “Flintana,” alongside YN Jay, RMC Mike, and Louie Ray, Yachty seamlessly integrates himself into the scene’s run-and-gun brand of posse cuts. But the crown jewel of Yachty’s second life is his two-man marathon with Krispylife Kidd. Their chemistry is so perfect on “Krispy Boat,” you might think they have been freestyling in basements together since they were teenagers. There’s even a moment when Yachty interrupts KrispyLife mid-bar and rescues him from saying something he might regret (probably not). Maybe it’s time Michigan Yachty became a full-time schtick.
In larger hip-hop regions, it’s common to stumble upon rappers who look as if they should be more worried about declaring their major than their YouTube views. But since getting recognized in Michigan is typically a slow and grueling process, a good amount of the state’s household names look like they should be dropping their children off at middle school. As the scene gains more attention, though, some younger rappers are rising fast.
In 2019, the teenage VPN-number-obsessed Teejayx6 was an overnight sensation with his Kasher Quon-assisted test of endurance, “Dynamic Duo.” A year later, they’re back, adding AK Bandamont for the similarly chaotic “Dynamic Trio,” where Teejay scams his way into an unnecessary purchase of 20 PS4s, Kasher is upset about chapped lips, and Bandamont has a complicated relationship with his granny.
The shaggy-haired BabyTron of the ShittyBoyz is another rapper who had a rapid ascent in 2019, and he’s been prolific ever since, like when he shared scam dreams with GTP Daidoe over a jazzy beat on “Huge Lifestyle.” The babyfaced WTM DaeMoney looks as if he should be in the student section at a Michigan State basketball game, and he knows it. “I feel like Rocket Watts,” he raps lethargically, referencing the former high school basketball phenom and current MSU guard on his best song of the year, “Slae Money.” And fresh-faced crew TRL have a memorable record with “Heated Discussions,” where the breakneck pace is hypnotic. “We step up in the party, this bitch goin’ up/If you ain’t the gang or the hoes then you can’t roll with us,” boasts TRL’s JT while wearing a Rick and Morty T-shirt in the music video, something you can only get away with when your facial hair is still coming in.
When Babyface Ray raps, it sounds like someone trying to tell a long story in the backseat of a bumpy car over a loud radio that the driver refuses to turn down. You have to listen to his music with the focus you would give an audiobook. Take “Paperwork Party,” where he recaps his day over a beat dreamy enough for an old Wiz Khalifa record: “Pick my daughter up from school, she say I smell funny/Dirty Sprite, exotics, and Chanel on me,” he raps, making the tedious sound triumphant.
Others have adopted this leisurely style, like Baby Smoove. On “Losing My Mind Pt. 2,” Smoove sounds like he went into the booth seconds after waking up from a food coma. Likewise, Veeze raps with the energy of someone caught in a phone conversation they want no part of on “Law N Order.” “I knew this shit was gon’ come, just like I seen it in The Simpsons,” he raps, quotable even when he’s unhurried and unentertained.
Let me be real. The Michigan rap I love the most is when people are talking so much irredeemable shit that I feel like a worse person for even engaging with it. It’s music that I would probably finger wag at if it wasn’t so much damn fun. Rio and Louie’s “Movie” is the perfect example of this. “I cheat and lie, but if she cheat, I’m cuttin’ her off, I ain’t fair,” raps Rio, on a mission to be the most hated boyfriend since Dro from Insecure. And Louie has a similarly disdainful relationship with women: “Give a fuck who I’m wit, I see some ass, I’ma stare,” he raps with unsettling calm.
Detroit duo Los and Nutty also have no limits. When the two are together, they rap about their lifestyles as if it’s a John Woo movie filled with backstabs and collusion. “The neighbors working with me they don’t see nothing,” raps Nutty on “Bishop,” before Los follows up: “It’s an inside job, I had my mans double cross you.”
But Michigan rap has flourished the most this year when Flint and Detroit unite. The animated, Flint-raised mailman Bfb Da Packman and Detroit’s robot dancing Sada Baby meet on “Free Joe Exotic,” one of the most deplorable songs of the year. Of course, I love every second. On yet another cinematic Enrgy instrumental, the two come up with endless dick jokes, oral sex quips, problematic one-liners that probably shouldn’t be typed on a Condé Nast-owned website, and dark self-depreacating humor. “My bitch ’bout to leave me ’cause I’m built like Patrick/I nut super quick and I be weighin’ down the mattress,” raps Packman. This song deserves the same warning message they show before an episode of Jackass. It could come from nowhere else but Michigan.
Check out our Best of Michigan Rap 2020 YouTube playlist.
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December 11, 2020 at 10:02PM
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