Cover Art via Motor City Productions/SoundCloud
Dr. Dre’s The Chronic being listed as one of the best Bay Area rap albums is why Alan Chazaro doesn’t trust anything generated by AI.
It’s 2025. NBA ratings have cratered. The most influential music personalities are ex-professional Fortnite streamers. And a C-list minor league basketball player’s refreshingly adequate rap song is absolutely shattering the synapses of the internet hivemind with an energy somewhere between a decaf Boosie and Mannie Fresh recording on a cracked copy of Ableton in the basement of the Magnolia Projects.
Yes, I’m talking about G3’s “Tweaker.” (Insert Birdman hand rub)
In retrospect, maybe we all tacitly understood that LiAngelo Ball — and not his popular, presumably more gifted brothers in the NBA, Lonzo or LaMelo — would eventually break into the highest tier of online visibility with his addictively re-playable approximation of a Trill ENT-era anthem.
Of course, it had to be Gelo — the family’s Fredo who once caused an international incident by getting caught shoplifting sunglasses from a Louis Vuitton store in Huangzou. A rap neophyte who can pretty convincingly rap like he’s from the swamps of Louisiana rather than the Southern California suburb where Ryan from The OC originally hailed. In one fell swoop, he has delivered the Ball family their long overdue glory in the music industry. The former Facebook reality TV show stars have outdone themselves yet again with their WWE-style mythmaking.
“Tweaker” debuted on January 3 via WorldStarHipHop – an appropriately Big Baller move – but what else would you expect from a Big Baller Brand representative. It has already amassed over 4 million YouTube views in only a few days.
The unexpected release has had NBA Twitter tweaking for the past 72 hours. In fact, any culture influencer still left sifting through the ashes of the platform seems to be algorithmically juicing the hell out of Gelo’s breakout.
Without listening to anything else, this has already been declared the peak of contemporary rap. A “vibe shift” we’ve long needed in the genre. Don’t try to overthink this one. Everyone online already agrees with me.
“I can’t believe Liangelo Ball is making better hits than Lil Baby.”
“im telling u right now without a shred of sarcasm..i rly think liangelo ball may have just caused a shift in rap.”
‘“LaVar Ball might be the GOAT. Lonzo Ball: NBA Player LaMelo Ball: NBA All Star LiAngelo Ball: Best Rapper Alive.”
“That LiAngelo Ball song > That Drake freestyle.”
“That liangelo ball snippet impresses me every time how do you make a song that sounds so authentically 2006.”
“thank you liangelo ball for saving hip hop”. (This comment, no less, from Maryland rapper, redveil)
Danny Brown even coronated LaVar as the GOAT for producing such flawless progeny (before later taking down his post on Twitter)
If you’ve just entered this dimension from a faraway portal, then you’d currently think LiAngelo Ball is legitimately the best rapper of our time. You might be convinced that he is the best NBA rapper to ever live. Forget Shaquille O’Neal, Allen Iverson, Kobe Bryant, or Damian Lillard on the mic. This also isn’t Percy “Master P” Miller, who made the Charlotte Hornets’ practice squad while overseeing No Limit Records, or J. Cole, who suited up professionally in the NBA-backed Basketball Africa League before double-dribbling The Off-Season. This is Gelo, a one-time phenom turned who even knows? Has anyone kept up with him before this?
On the same weekend that Drake re-entered the arena, post-Kendrick annihilation tour, with an LeBron diss track, “Fighting Irish Freestyle,” Gelo has called his own game-winning shot. On the same calendar day that Lil Baby unrolled his mega-wattage WHAM (Who Hard As Me) on Motown, Gelo has essentially passed out a burned CD for free and everyone is bumping that in their whips (sans CD player) instead.
You can’t blink without seeing a “I might swerve bend that corner whoa” reference or video of a professional sports locker room like the Detroit Lions blasting “Tweaker” as a victory soundtrack (Zo even teased his brother’s next song with the Chicago Bulls at his side). I haven’t seen a rap song or rapper get this much attention since, well, Kendrick’s “Not Like Us” this past summer. But even then, that felt different. Gelo’s slap is more SoundCloud than Kia Forum sponsored by Amazon, more LiveMixtapes than Spotify. Where Kendrick’s record of the year had pushback from OVO stans, Gelo is just an unadulterated vibe that everyone seems to be enjoying — whether their enjoyment is genuine, satirical, or both isn’t the point. I haven’t seen a single negative comment fired off at Gelo or his camp – perhaps the greatest achievement any rapper in the modern age of instant global commentary can hope for.
Seeing that collective sense of appreciation recalls the internet’s old ability to provide joy. Some of “Tweaker”’s appeal is no doubt in its harkening back to a bygone, pirated version of the web. Nowadays, everything feels overly produced, hyper-curated, and hollow. To revisit Lil Baby’s release, he launched his latest album in conjunction with “a new weed line called WHAM!, in select dispensaries across California.” Rap has increasingly become corporate and less whimsical.
It’s not that Gelo’s “Tweaker” doesn’t strive for widespread acclaim, but more that it does everything but have the “Mouse On the Track That’ll Make You Bounce And Act” drop. It somehow feels more regional than it actually is and refreshingly of another time. Nostalgia might be a type of haunting, as Will Hagle wrote in his most recent Substack, but god damn if I don’t enjoy a good haunting every now and then. Do happy hauntings exist?
It’s hard to say whether the populist reaction to “Tweaker” is more of a knock on the current state of rap and a lack of must-listen output these days or if it’s simply a vein of gold from an overlooked underdog who, it turns out, actually has that dog in him.
Recall when the Ball family first entered our collective consciousness. When Lonzo Ball, the ever-shifty speed demon and full-court visionaire was plucked from the University of California, Los Angeles, and immediately crowned as a hometown savior for the Los Angeles Lakers as the second-overall pick in the 2017 NBA Draft. Back then, rappers would often reference him in their bars.
A bigger Jason Kidd at best, Lonzo stormed basketball’s Mount Olympus with a Kardashian-rivaling, barrel-chested father. At the time, it seemed he had been preordained by the hoop gods to fulfill his prophecy as a generational son of Southern California fame and a muse for rappers writ-large.
The point guard led the NCAA in assists as a freshman and cashed in on his standout year as the Pac-12 (RIP) Player of the Year by catalyzing his celebrity status. Days after entering the Association, mainstream casuals and the ESPNs of the media world couldn’t get enough of Ball — a promising, albeit unproven prospect — and his spiritually coked-up pops. The Big Baller Brand (a family-owned business, initiated by LaVar) soon followed with a pair of AND1-inspired sneakers that thirsted of a former era when bulkier, flashier swagger could be had with an icy chain to declare one’s infallible ballerdom.
Zo could also rap. At least nominally. He released some tracks in a gimmicky attempt to build his brand as a complete package superstar rather than mastering any real sense of genuine artistry. But I wouldn’t put him on any list of great NBA rappers (shout out Dana Barros and Cedric Ceballos).
Over the subsequent three years, Lonzo would, to a degree, flop — both on the court while constantly dealing with injuries, and figuratively as BBB’s products increasingly worsened (the brand’s co-founder, Alan Foster, federally sued the Ball family twice for over $200 million for trademark infringement, fraud and unfair business practices, according to Los Angeles Times.)
In 2019, the Lakers floundered, Zo got shipped off to the lowly New Orleans Pelicans, and his music faded as he got generally labeled as a likely bust. During his brief apex, he dropped “Zo2,” a braggadocious anthem about life as Lonzo Ball, but never added much to the heralded lore of rap, let alone earn any rightful place among the best NBA players who could spit. (For the record, I’ve always enjoyed Lonzo’s game, and am glad to see him making a comeback with the Chicago Bulls this season. He has avoided a Greg Oden situation and overcome physical setbacks throughout his career. I just prefer not to listen to his music. Until now. If you check the songwriting credits on “Tweaker,” the oldest Ball brother gets songwriting credit.
As for the youngest of the trio, LaMelo became the ultimate iteration of the Ball family’s masterplan: the only NBA All-Star in the family, a charismatic, easily marketable, and an absolute aberration inside the gym. He’s a free-flowing blur with a jiggly frohawk making behind-the-back no-look dishes and step back jumpers. Though equally plagued with injuries — perhaps a Ball family curse that they must endure as a tradeoff for their success — Melo’s actually an NBA star on the verge of superstardom, appropriately nicknamed “Out of this World” and “Not From Here” with a pair of SLAM-endorsed UFO shoes that just hit the market.
Meanwhile, the middle brother has long been trapped in The Upside Down. A man who is not quite here nor there, and who often exists more theoretically than corporeally. Since the days of Chino Hills High School’s state championship and perfect season, we’ve known about Gelo not necessarily by his own merits, but by the merits of LaVar, Zo, and Melo. Before “Tweakers,” his shadowy presence has occasionally emerged into the spotlight before dissipating into ethers unknown for months, until he resurfaces in some random iteration.
As a middle child myself, I fuck with Gelo. He has fought his way through the minor leagues, and has had professional stints in the Junior Basketball Association (haven’t heard of it before? neither have I), the NBA G League and Summer League, overseas in Lithuania, and most recently in Mexico’s secondary league, el Circuito de Baloncesto de la Costa del Pacífico. And yes, LaVar, ever the profiteer, made sure to capitalize on Gelo’s cross-border stint, which only lasted a grand total of two games, by launching Big Baller Brand merch in a Mexican flag colorway.
And yet here we are. While LaVar basically achieved every Sports Dad’s dream by shepherding two his sons into the league, with one earning Rookie of the Year and All-Star honors, it hasn’t been without its disappointments and heartbreaks. Maybe all along, the one who didn’t make the NBA has been the top choice after all.
Whatever the case may be, LiAngelo Ball has curiously, if not momentarily, shifted the rap and sports hierarchy in his favor as everyone’s favorite “Tweaker” of the new year. You might catch me listening to his track at the gym, basking in the surreal nature of our times, along with the rest of the online matrix.
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