By the time Culture came out at the beginning of 2017, Migos had already left their mark. The ad-libs (skrrt!), the comic repetition (Versace! Versace! Versace! Versace!), the galloping triplet flow: Anywhere you listened, you heard it, and whatever didn’t imitate it seemed to consciously ignore it.
The album’s energy is addictive: Few artists have better captured the pro-wrestling-style absurdity of modern rap, and with such charm: When’s the last time you heard a death threat that included the word “noggin” (“T-Shirt”), or a crack-cooking hustler compare himself to the friendly animated rat in Pixar’s Ratatouille (“Bad and Boujee”)? But what makes it a classic is the way it helped bring a hyper-regional scene (2010s Atlanta trap) into national focus. Donald Glover’s callout at the Golden Globes (“‘Bad and Boujee’…like, that’s the best song ever”) wasn’t just funny because of the circumstances (award-show acceptance speeches don’t usually cover the awardee’s favorite rappers), but because of how it highlighted the cultural disconnect between a rap world in which Migos were already heroes and a mainstream that barely knew they existed.
More than just good guest spots and production choices (Metro Boomin, Nard & B, Zaytoven, Gucci Mane, 2 Chainz), the album’s credits serve as a summary of where trap had been and a projection of where it was going: the surrealistic chirps of Playboi Carti, the unbound energy of Lil Uzi Vert. To say they did it for the culture is cliché—they did it because they like money, cars, diamonds, and the satisfaction of a job well done. But the culture was better for it.