If you have only casually watched the rise of Migos, Takeoff is the trio’s most anonymous member. Quavo is the most recognizable thanks to his pop instincts and constant cameos; Offset’s relationship with Cardi B has boosted his profile. But Takeoff has kept his head down. Still, the crew’s youngest, least attention-hungry member is also its most talented rapper. His abilities have been clearly visible since at least No Label II but were perhaps most obvious amid the bloat of Culture II. On songs like “Too Much Jewelry” and the original edit of “Motorsport,” he was the most assured and reliably energetic performer. In the run-up to that record, Quavo was happy to admit his nephew was the superior Migo. Offset agreed.
Takeoff’s solo debut, The Last Rocket, arrives on the heels of Quavo Huncho and just ahead of an Offset album next month. His kinfolk are correct: With a tight 12 tracks, Takeoff’s record is significantly more economical than Quavo’s, revealing more of his personality through a diverse set of strongly rapped songs. The lack of an obvious enormous single likely won’t raise his general star, but The Last Rocket helps to demystify the group by clarifying their explicit connections to Southern rap predecessors from Gucci Mane and Big K.R.I.T. to UGK. Many of the Migos’ best songs have been their biggest hits. The Last Rocket, like its creator, is most compelling at its most offbeat and introspective.
“None to Me” is the first track here to display these qualities, as Takeoff raps about his lack of interest in a mere flex. He begins with a simple boast—“Like looking at my money stacked/That’s why the whip I ain’t bought one”—but inverts it, transforming into an opportunity for reflection. “Not that I can’t get one, or not that I don’t want one/So booked, if I even got it, I wouldn’t have time to drive one,” he continues. These bars exemplify the upside of a solo record: More time to fill means more time to muse, and Takeoff is an interesting person to spend time with. He weds Migos’ slashing digressions to quirky thoughtfulness.
The most endearing and bizarre example is “Casper.” Takeoff is lyrically all over the place atop a gauzy beat from Nonstop Da Hitman. “I want to look at the stars today,” he injects with childlike wonder into a hook that would otherwise seem rote. He shouts out his grandma and requests that those he share dinner with say grace. The cosmos, his elders, an abiding religiosity: These are recurring motifs for the rapper born Kirshnik Khari Ball, and this earnestness even makes the album’s title seem like more than a cheap joke about his pseudonym.
