“I put your favorite rapper on that sangin’-rappin’ and shit,” Skooly asserts on “Bacc on My Shit” from his 2015 mixtape Blacc Jon Gotti. The Atlanta artist’s voice—somewhere between nasally snarl and warped trill—splits an imaginary line that divides swag rap and contorted R&B. It was his calling card long before the rise of so-called “weirdo” rappers who wanted in on the magic of melody. That release marked the first solo outing for the now 24-year-old who got his initial tastes of fame a decade ago with the exuberant Atlanta group Rich Kidz.
Back then, they were a meatier outfit comprised of Skooly (then known as Skool Boi), RKaelub, Shad Da God (then known as Rich Kid Shawty), Jose Guapo (then known as Juney) and Baby Charles. Their 2009 breakout single “Wassup” was lightning in a bottle, propelled by Skooly’s sing-song hook. It was also the first time he discovered his knack for melodies.
“I found out in the booth that I could hold a tune,” he says over the phone from Atlanta. At that time, the city was in the midst of a renaissance that, in hindsight, formed the bedrock of some of today’s most popular trends. The futuristic swag era, as it has come to be known, saw the rise of fellow sing-rap stars like Yung L.A., Travis Porter, and Roscoe Dash. All were stylistic innovators using the power of melody, of Southern drawl and buoyant intonations, to counterbalance the heavier sound and themes of trap music—a collision that has only been fully realized in recent years. But even among peers several years his senior, Skooly stood out. There was something special in that voice, a quality that so easily rendered basic words into irresistible sing-a-longs. He attracted co-signs from peers and vets alike: producer London on Da Track, for example, immortalized his voice with his now-iconic drop, while a then-budding Future let him dominate his 2011 “Freeband Gang” anthem.
Skooly is a link between a bygone era of Southern rap and the current generation, the living thread that connects trap and “ringtone rap” to the viscous sing-song variety of today. It’s not a stretch to see how the quirks of Skooly’s voice helped prime our ears for the warbles of artists like Kodak Black, YFN Lucci, or YNW Melly. Newcomer SahBabii has often mentioned Rich Kidz in the same breath as Young Thug—the same Young Thug who was still a rising rapper when he nabbed a feature on the group’s “100 Dollar Autograph.” There, the eccentricities that would characterize Thug’s later flows were dwarfed by Skooly’s crooning.
On songs like the impossibly bubbly “Na Na Boo Boo,” or the syrupy balladeering of the “Sunrise Interlude” from 2014’s Everybody Eat Bread, hints that he could’ve maybe moonlighted as an R&B star in a former life shine through. It’s not so much the singing itself as it is the audacity of the vocals—unworried about traditional standards of prettiness, as they channel unadulterated joy, or lust, or pain. “I just always liked melody and old, soulful music, and I use it as a reference,” he says. “I started experimenting, trying different things, trying to bring that soulful sound back.” He counts singers like Rose Royce, Marvin Gaye, Al Green, and Kem among the artists that influence him. And likewise, he isn’t shy about counting himself among his city’s long list of influential artists.
“Talent has always come out of Atlanta, but I feel like I kind of set a standard, not because of what I was doing, but because I was young,” he says. “It gave young people confidence to feel like they can do it too. It gave older rappers confidence to maybe do more onstage, try to sing or switch up their craft.”
The original iteration of the Rich Kidz dissolved fairly early, but Skooly and Kaelub carried on. With each mixtape came more calls for Skooly to break off and see what he could do by himself. Their last release together, 2016’s RapN & SangN, came after his first solo release. Like a parting gift and final hurrah rolled into one, it also served as confirmation that even as Skooly was setting out on his own, it was truly RK4L.
“It was a group idea. Me and Kaelub decided that together,” he says of the decision to embark on a solo career. “I guess we felt like it was time at that point. Everyone that was with me in my corner felt like it was time. It wasn’t just a me thing, so it was no bad blood.”
At the top of 2015, he joined 2 Chainz on his T.R.U. imprint. Their relationship dates back to the days of Rich Kidz when 2 Chainz was still Tity Boi and an early supporter who, Skooly says, often lended the group his help and voice free of charge. And when 2 Chainz was in a position to offer another platform, he circled back to sign the younger rapper who was preparing his second act.
“He’s really like the sensei of the young movement. All these niggas are really going to his karate class, you know what I’m saying?” 2 Chainz told XXL. “I don’t think any other artists can do that. He’s singing and he’s muthafuckin’ rapping. But, nah, he does both of them very well.”
As a solo artist, Skooly is nearing prolific levels of output. He’s released six projects in the three years since his solo debut, including a trilogy released this year. Where the adolescent Rich Kidz used melody to inject their music with a playfulness that made every song seem like a celebration, Skooly employs it as a tool of emotionality. Sometimes, that croon is proof of his bruises, as on last year’s “Vicarious Moments” when he moans “My brother really thug/Then he died and I cried/Now I got nothing to hold me up.” Other times, it’s an exhale of levity contrasted against an otherwise bleak outlook. On his latest, Don’t Forget About Me 3, the recurring themes include betrayal, heartbreak, and death, but they’re tucked beneath layers of melody and, every now and then, the sprightly ghosts of the Rich Kidz.
Though his signature sound has been 10 years in the making, putting the process into words still doesn’t come easy. It’s still as instinctual as it was when he stepped in the booth the very first time as part of the group. Some things just aren’t worth questioning; sometimes a whim or, as Skooly credits, destiny is enough. “I can’t explain why I sing like I sing, and I don’t want to explain it,” he says. “But I love it, and other people love it too.”
