Over the past two years an emerging trend has taken hold of rap music. “Trap”, spearheaded by the likes of Young Thug and Future, has erupted from the confines of its Southeastern cradle to find a home in American pop culture and to mark the newest phase in the evolution of hip-hop.

Compared to conscientious rap, a slim genre, “Trap” tends to focus more on the glory of wealth, drugs and, in the case of Migos’ “Fight Night,” violence. Although these themes are also consistent in the music of (arguably) more thoughtful rappers such as Kendrick Lamar and Joey Bada$$, it’s plain to see that “food for thought” in Trap music is scarce. One need not look further than the line “I eat ice cream with my chickens” in Young Thug’s song, Power. Nonetheless, it’s inarguable that trap is entertaining and enjoyable to listen to. It’s rare that Kendrick’s “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst”, for example, is played on the AUX over Future’s “Rich $ex,” and this is no doubt in part due to Trap’s care-free nature.  

Aside from theme differences, another element separating Trap from other forms of rap is quantity. Atlanta rappers drop material at an almost super-human speed, with singles and mixtapes being released almost bi-weekly. Young Thug, for example, released his 13th album, “I’m Up,” in February of 2016 and released his next venture, “Slime Season 3,” just one month later. The Georgian duo Run the Jewels, on the other hand, typically waits an average of one calendar year before releasing a project, which almost always draws critical acclaim. Whether or not a correlation exists, rap projects such as Run the Jewels regularly garner better reviews than their Atlantan counterparts, leaving one to wonder if the focus on quantity is negatively impacting the music’s quality. If so, then the poor quality can most blatantly be seen in the lyrics. Whereas, Run the Jewels spends time tying in political analysis and bringing societal issues to light, Trap has no time for such things. Its doctrine is lean consumption and diamond counting—ideas that, understandably, take less time to formulate.

A further cornerstone of Trap music is its instantly recognizable tone. The mixture of autotune, codeine-drenched vocals, and flat-out rejection of consonants gives Trap the unique sound that it has evolved into today. The rules of language don’t dictate the likes of Future or Lil Yachty. If a word needs to be used but doesn’t exist, they invent one. If a certain noise needs to be added to a line but can’t be found in the natural world, they make one up. And, if all else fails, they can murmur their way through entire verses. Young Thug and Rich Homie Quan’s “Lifestyle” testifies to this sonic liberation, as their most Rap Genius-ed song ever makes extensive use of sounds from squeals to gargles to “blaht”s. As compared by the Washington Post’s Chris Richards, “If [Young Thug] lived inside a comic book, his speech bubbles would be filled with Jackson Pollock splatters.” The music, in other words, is not confined by the English language.

Whether Trap is simply a phase in hip-hop or the Future of rap music itself remains to be seen. It isn’t exactly chock-full of biting social commentary, and no, it isn’t a marvel of prose, but there is a reason it has come to be as popular as it is. It’s liberating, it’s electrifying, and it’s a damn good time. As junior Trevor Scholl puts it: “To me, Trap music has always felt like freedom. The second my mom leaves me home alone I hook up my iPhone to my Apple TV, bump some Young Thug, and make myself a smoothie.  That’s freedom to me.”