Bankroll Fresh was once known as Yung Fresh, and appeared alongside Mr. Perfect-era Gucci Mane on a small handful of records. Now, with a minor hit in 2014's Cash Money-referencing "Hot Boy", a Mike WiLL Made It cosign, and Instagram shout-outs from Drake and, uh, Marilyn Manson, he is Bankroll Fresh, one of several young ATLiens making a move for his city's street rap center.
Perhaps because of his older pedigree, the rapper's style doesn't owe Gucci as much of a stylistic debt as others in the current Atlanta rookie class. This is his substantial advantage: at a time when most emulate a series of now-conventional flows, Bankroll seems intent on scratching out his own fresh rhythmic pathways, discovering his own pocket in the groove. ("Free Wop Freestyle (Free Gucci)" is the exception that proves the rule.) Bankroll's vocal tone doesn't have the same effortless panache and character of Gucci's own; in some ways he seems downright regular. But Gucci's influence looms so large in Atlanta street rap that this is a refreshing strategy, exhibiting an inner artistic confidence. Externally, though, Life of a Hot Boy 2: Real Trapper is a spare, skeletal record, more a model on which to build possible futures than a real destination.
The album is least imaginative in its opening moments, which feel like an overt attempt to recapture the spirit of Trap or Die/Thug Motivation-era Jeezy, with producer D.Rich emulating the sheet metal symphonies of Shawty Redd. But the bulk of the tape sticks to Bankroll's core sound, an unwavering flatline on a black-and-white canvas, dominated by locked-in, often against-the-beat flows ("Thats Whats Goin On") that emphasize repetition with the deliberate percussiveness of a typewriter. Thus far none of his records have replicated the success of his last tape's big single "Hot Boy", and none here seem poised to do so either. But even that record felt like something of an uphill hit, its chorus successful mainly through bludgeoning repetition.
The effect of this dry, minimal approach to trap music is going to limit this tape's audience from the jump: to enjoy this record, you've got to really love the bare-bones particulars of street music, distilled not so much in the service of therapeutic aggression—as it was for Flockaveli—but as a kind of audience GPS. To put it bluntly, the album's subject matter doesn't extend too far beyond that of Gucci's "My Kitchen". Here, it suggests, is Atlanta's missing piece, at a time when eccentric ATLiens like Young Thug, Future, and Rich Homie Quan experiment with different textural palettes and shades of emotion. Bankroll, by contrast, hasn't fleshed out his world much yet, leaving these songs as line-drawings of the dope dealer day-to-day over three-note piano loops.
Not that there aren't inspired moments, particularly in the tape's second half. The Zaytoven-produced "Ten" features some tongue-twisting lyrics ("Livin like the mob, fly to Vegas just to ditch ya/ Dom Perignon sipper, cigar-clipper, Vuitton slippers"). The buzzing King Cee O-produced "360", much like his "Screen Door" collaboration with Mike WiLL on the latter's Ransom, suggests the rapper's style works best with some driving momentum behind him. The tape's best song overall is the D.Rich-produced "Fabulous". With brushed snares that sound lifted from former No Limit producer KLC, quivering synthesizers borrowed from Gucci Mane's Fat Boi-produced "Haunted House", and a piano loop that suggests the atmosphere of 2Pac's DeVante Swing-produced "No More Pain", the song is at once several sounds and none—less a costume than a creation.
The stripped-down sound of the record makes Bankroll easily adaptable to different styles—the album's closer is a Zaytoven version of Master P's "I'm Bout It, Bout It"—without committing too completely to anything, and his facility for off-center flows is impressive. But he also stands in the shadow of more audacious experiments that have hit hip-hop in recent years: Big Sean, of course, has been doing the against-the-groove rap style for some time. But he's the tip of the iceberg in Detroit, where artists like Pablo Skywalkin and Yae Yae Jordan experiment radically while keeping the street approach at the forefront. In the drill scene, Keef has incorporated melody into his songs while virtually uncoupling himself from the rhythmic grid, and King Louie experimented with repeating flow patterns (and even recorded his own similar Gucci flow tribute back in 2009).
Atlanta is a hotbed of hip-hop talent, it's true, but that's also a marketing cliche. Now that its singular space within hip-hop has been so well-established over the past two decades, each new artist arrives with the pressure of its city's proven track record behind it as decorative momentum. Only today, Atlanta faces new challengers, and artists like Bankroll don't have as clear a lane as they once did. This isn't to suggest Bankroll Fresh isn't an original voice. But just being from Atlanta may no longer guarantee you the biggest footprint, and Life of a Hot Boy 2 doesn’t make much of one by itself.
