They started talking about trap music, a poundingly kinetic form of Atlanta rap that originated in the crack-and-weed dens known as trap houses. “The rhythm of it is interesting,” Beetz said, “but I feel abandoned by the lyrics. Rhyming ‘blunt’ with ‘blunt’ with ‘blunt’—”
“It’s music for making drugs by,” Glover explained, his brow furrowing. He lost his virginity to a trap song, and one of his goals for “Atlanta” is to make the show feel as vital as the music that constitutes half its soundtrack.
Cornelius said, “I agree with her, though. You want some more metaphorical language, like Jay-Z.”
“Jay-Z be saying the same shit, too!” Glover said. “O.K., take ‘The Race,’ by Tay-K. Play that fuck right now, if you got it.” As Cornelius searched Spotify, Glover explained, “Tay-K was sixteen and on the run for murder when he made this song. It’s a real Jesse James story.” He pulled up Tay-K’s photo on his phone as “The Race” began to boom. Glover said, “Look at this kid! He’s a baby! He never had a chance! Y’all are forgetting what rap is. Rap is ‘I don’t care what you think in society, wagging your finger at me for calling women “bitches”—when, for you to have two cars, I have to live in the projects.’ ”
“That makes me think differently about it,” Beetz said.
Glover stared off. “Young black kid in Texas with a murder on him,” he said, finally. “He’s definitely going to die, and it’s sad.”