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Image via LayLow Lee/Instagram

The Rap-Up is the only weekly round-up providing you with the best rap songs you need to hear. Support real, independent music journalism by subscribing to Passion of the Weiss on Patreon.

Harley Geffner has been trying to write about rap but all he can listen to is Mk.gee



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Sometimes, a sound that hits your ear that takes a second to click, but once it locks in, there’s no escaping it. The newest Dog Shit Militia signee, T Bone has been ridiculed by some, and vaunted by others – fairly regular anytime a new take on a sound starts to go viral. But honestly, this is undeniably fire. He’s like if Remble spent a bunch of time in Milwaukee with BabyTron. He’s Hemingway, if Hemingway was robbing homes. Everything is wound so tightly with T Bone into quick stinging jabs, like the opening bar, “I’m on your porch. With a torch.” He would like to politely remind you that, “I make more. You make less.” That silly little step he and Certified Trapper do throughout the song is already thrice platinum in the Geffner household. I dare you to listen to this song two times in a row without having a bar infect your brain for weeks, even if you hate it.



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LayLow Lee, from Charleston, South Carolina, proudly displays in his IG bio that he is a “Licensed 🪪 TruckDriver.” The working class roots and hustler mentality shine through in his raps too. I say hustler mentality because everyone I know who comes from lower socioeconomic backgrounds has a story of an uncle or friend’s cousin who got a CDL and makes over 100K a year now, and talks about how one day they might try it. LayLow Lee actually did it.

Aside from the roots and the sick rap name, Lee’s Southern melodic drawl is intoxicating. His voice is inviting, and reminds me of some of the great recent Southern pain rappers like Hotboii. It’s not as high flying in its melodies, but they’re smooth and sharp, with sparse, but concentrated vocal layering. There’s a Halsey sample to open the song, as Lee sits up from the couch, tucks his firearm and walks out the door with cash stuffed in his pockets. Lee starts to warble along to it as he steps out of the house and throws his armor (hoodie) on, preparing for battle.

The beat transforms from the Halsey sample into this pitter patter piano with cinematic drums, as Lee puts on a serious face to rap about how serious he is about getting money. He and his crew dance around in the street, parading a painting of angelic looking friends like they’re bottles at a club, and flawlessly executing complicated handshakes. He flashes a charming smile to show off the grills, stands on the hood of a blacked out GMC, and gets into his rapper rapper bag to boast about his opps fearing the grim reaper. The right amounts of rapping, melodic singing, and layering from Lee remind me of a young Kodak. This guy’s got the sauce.

If you were craving a hanging mic performance of the same song, well you’re in luck. Here he is, with a bluetooth headset, like an old head in a Kangol.



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Ralfy is so reliably good that, from a distance, it can start to lean into monotony. Every song has funny barbs at his enemies, creative little flexes, and his patented monotone with the sadness inflected deep within. What keeps it from getting boring though is a few things. First, he’s just genuinely funny. Little skits at the start of his songs, themes he carries through full songs that leave you wondering how he possibly thought of them, and bars that still surprise with a sardonic sense of humor. Second is his beat selection. Even at the race pace he drops, the quality control is still there and he always finds these beats that perfectly match his style. On “Atmosphere,” he slides over a jazzy beat, hitting every note in perfect time, rapping about his chains giving him back pains, designer shoes doubling as his skateboard kicks, fake bricks and blow up mattresses. Not much else to say than that this is some reliably strong rapping from a reliably good rapper.



The influence of the Bopster is too strong on LA right now. The raunchiest, bounciest side of the sound keeps getting even raunchier and even bouncier. This is as LA as an Inergee beat gets too, and Santanawildin and jxncy take advantage by detailing a bunch of wild sexual acts, innuendos, and details. Hide the kids, hide the wife, this is nasty as hell and honestly, fairly disrespectful of women. Realistically, nobody should be singing along to this. But I’m just here to report on what’s hot outside right now, not pass moral judgment on it.



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Hailing from Germany, Boondawg has found a sweet niche with his sound. Mixing German and English in his lyrics, there’s barely any lyrical content a non-German can make out, but the vibe is still immaculate. His flow melts into this synthy crystalline lake of a beat, with all the right pauses and tempos to give the song this feeling of flight. It’s music to soar to.



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