Today (Nov. 11) was a sorrowful day for hip hop, particularly for those with roots in Southern hip hop. Migos’ Takeoff was laid to rest after a stadium-wide funeral service at Atlanta’s State Farm Arena that was reminiscent of the memorials held for Kobe Bryant and Nipsey Hussle. Residents of Georgia (and fans from afar) celebrated the life and light of the iconic music artist through a collage of his interviews, songs, and speeches.
Almost two weeks after the incident that took Takeoff’s life, his death is still unbelievably surreal and the news of him being the victim of a stray bullet in my hometown of Houston is deeply upsetting. I still remember when Migos was first introduced to me through a high school football team. The football team would often play Migos during practices and game intermissions. Immediately, I heard and felt the appeal of the trio.
Their immense lyrical confidence and admiration for quality hip hop production solidified the Migo imprint among Gen Zers and Millennials, alike. And while their discography of hits, such as the Lil Uzi Vert assisted “Bad and Boujee,” were popular among the larger fanbase that came later as their fame increased, many of us tapped-in hip hop followers outside of the ATL immediately grew attached to the 2013 game-changing album Young Rich N*ggas.
It’s from that album that the Migos delivered “Versace,” with Drake claiming credit for leveling the awareness of the group with a lone feature. Don’t get it twisted though, there were plenty of singles from that album that cultivated a new wave of hip hop culture, and it would be remiss to not mention Gucci Mane’s influence in that movement. A standout feature of the Zaytoven-produced album was the symphonic trap beats, characterized by energized electronic drums, speaker-blowing bass, and of course, the undefeated ping pong of lyrics between the three relatives.
Takeoff took over on “Rich Than Famous,” the very first track of YRN and a transparent illustration of the Migos’ mindset coming into the project. The group single-handedly infused culture with lingo that was no longer confined to Atlanta, but now had the bandwidth to influence listeners all over the world. They successfully did this through songs, such as “Hannah Montana” and “Bando,” clearly proving that every single member of the Migos was not only needed, but desired, as well.
I have favorites from each of their albums. For instance, No Label II was another infrared radiating project, offering cultural gems in the braggadocious “Handsome And Wealthy” and mentally edifying “Built Like Me,” to name a few. Let’s just put it like this, “Fight Night,” featuring Rick Ross, was a hit single from the album and one of my least favorite. Not because it wasn’t good, but moreso because I’m more of a B-side fan, opting for hidden bangers over radio singles. This fact brings me to one of my favorite songs from the Migos, and it’s mainly because of Takeoff.
The underrated “Deadz” was featured on the Migos’ 2017 musical entry, Culture, becoming part of my life’s soundtrack forever. The song featured 2 Chainz and came with an official music video. Cardo, the producer of “Deadz,” perfectly aligned an orchestral ensemble of instrumentation with the rhythmic flows of each rapper. But it was Takeoff’s part ushered in by an epic beat drop that impacted me the most. He raps:
“Hop out the bed and I’m counting them faces
I jump out the whip and them b*tches start fainting /
No twenties or fifties, just Benjamin Franklins
Block on lock, call me Kurt Angle /
I keep the bag on my brother, my partner
Don’t f*ck with no strangers, they tryna’ get famous /
I put the hood on my back
When these n*ggas couldn’t do nothing but love
But these n*ggas still hated /
No, they ain’t real but these n*ggas gonna fake it
And if they got a problem my n*ggas come straighten it /
N*gga debating, they hating, they plotting, they waiting
They want my ice, tell ’em come take it /
Had people tell me that I couldn’t make it
Now I’m doin’ shows outta state in the nations /
My momma told me I gotta stay humble, boy
Don’t be too ready, you gotta have patience.”
And that was the embodiment of Takeoff, or Kirsnick Ball. He could easily transition from flexing to rapping about the pitfalls of fame, to mentioning an influential member of his family, such as his mother, and at times, his late grandmother.
Takeoff’s death is evidence that street politics (and foolishness) will always get in the way of community, no matter if these individual indiscretions tear down the morale of hip hop as a whole. One thing that can’t be taken away by those who are left behind on Earth is Takeoff’s impact, no matter how hard they may work to taint his image as they have done with other hip hop icons — and those before them that contributed to blues, jazz, and rock n’ roll.
Takeoff came, saw, and conquered. As a result, his music vibrated and his life radiated. Referencing the famous poem by Dylan Thomas, Takeoff did not go gentle into that good night, but he raged, raged against the dying of the light. Rest in peace of mind, Takeoff.
