Nestled inside a gated but otherwise unassuming building in a quiet part of Midtown Atlanta is a small room that's birthed some of the most transgressive, molar-crunching sounds in contemporary hip-hop.

Violet Isle Studios is a swanky recording studio with a state-of-the-art control room and an SSL 4056G console straight out of the '80s, plus a 525-square-foot room that contains a black grand piano beside an air mattress strewn with T-shirts and a pair of red-and-white Rick Owens sneakers. Neither the piano nor the mattress have gotten much use lately.

The room is regularly booked out by 26-year-old Ken Carson, who is one of the leader of the modern-day rap underground, a cult scene currently in a tug-of-war with other subgenres for how the next 10 years of hip-hop will sound.

He treats the space as his domain and likes to arrive in the early evening in order to bunker down for the night, working until early morning. On a rainy Thursday in July, he moves at the relaxed pace of someone who just put out an album, strolling in and heading straight for the PlayStation 5—despite technically being on a deadline.

In seven days he’s supposed drop Cartunez, which functions as a follow-up to his album Xperiment. Ken considers Cartunez a return to his sound, a companion mixtape to the more exploratory Xperiment. Those two projects are just the start for Ken, who is in the running for rapper of the year. His case is built on volume and momentum: outside of those albums, Ken is headlining his tour this fall, performing at ComplexCon 2026, alongside his Opium label boss Playboi Carti, and dropping a collaborative album with his labelmate Destroy Lonely. He's even taking the momentum outside of music: a longtime wrestling head, he’s dropped an exclusive capsule collection with the WWE, featuring shirts honoring stars like Stone Cold Steve Austin, the Undertaker, Rhea Ripley, John Cena, Danhausen, and others. (For more on Ken’s thoughts on wrestling’s greatest stars, check out his Re-Rank episode.)

But none of that means anything if the music doesn't hit. If Carti's innovation is his range of vocal inflections, Carson has a knack for harnessing noise. Working with producers like Lil88, Star Boy, Outtatown, and F1lthy, Carson finds melody within the din of laser-tag-sounding sensory overload. His songs build momentum: whether it's the way the song builds up to the chorus on "Jennifer's Body," or the apocalyptic beat changes on "Black Rockstar." Underground is a broad label, one that can mean different things depending on the background and perspective of the person using it. But among Gen Z fans, it’s synonymous with the frantic world of rage rap, where the whole point is controlled aggression. And because Ken isn't underground in the commercial sense—his 2025 album More Chaos hit No. 1 on the Billboard 200—his power is in making the hyperactive, distorted energy of the modern rap underground accessible.

But this is all abstract, a little cerebral, and Carson’s music is about turning up in the here and now. And right now, Cartunez needs to get finished. Yet his instinct upon entering the building is to run a couple of games of EA Sports FC 26 while munching on a McDonald's burger before another all-nighter.

"Love your job," he says—his first acknowledgement that there’s a journalist in the room.

It’s unclear if he’s posing a question or speaking a mantra. I ask, "Do you love yours?"

"Hell yeah. I've been working to get here all my life," he says.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

It’s been a couple of weeks since Xperiment has been out. How do you feel about the response so far?
Shit, like you said, it’s only been out a couple of weeks. So it's like, I don't know, you have to let it marinate. I know I don't make music for everybody. But certain opinions matter and some don't.

Whose opinion matters to you?
You got the motherfuckers who do it for the clout, and then you got the motherfuckers who really a fan of music itself with genuine responses.

When did you decide you were going to call it xperiment?
I think right when I came off my last one.

Was your goal to do something you've never done before?
Yeah, I definitely was doing shit I never did before. I ain't never rapped on a 2hollis beat before. A lot of songs I'm doubling up. It's not like ad libs—it's like two verses at once instead of just adlibs [underneath the verse]. It's a whole different verse. I really never really cared about features like that either. I feel like I stepped outside the box and made sure I got everything cleared and shit.

What made you start caring about features?
I mean, just for this album specifically. I still don't care.

You have a lot of OG figures here, like Lil Uzi Vert and Young Thug.
Yeah, all the people my 12-year-old, 13-year-old self would have wanted. Every feature on there, I knew them before I was who I was. So it's more meaningful than just paying for a random feature.

How is Cartunez different from xperiment?
I feel like on xperiment I was shying away from my natural sound. On cartunez, I'm not really doing that at all.

Is it that you wanted to give one for your day ones?
You feel me? This is definitely for my day one. It's also an addition to it, too. It's not just old songs or whatever. It's like new shit that people never heard, too.

You usually go off the top. When was the last time you wrote a rhyme?
I tried to one time. It was probably like 2017. And I had first started getting booked real hours in the studio. And I'm like, “Damn, what if I wrote a song?” That shit took me like four hours. That shit took too much time.

[The song] was pretty good. It just took up way too much time. My recording process is way faster than that now. Four hours is crazy. Depending on the song, I could take 30 minutes; I could take 20 minutes; I could take 15 minutes.

What's a studio session with Carti like?
Shit, his ass is going to be rapping for a long-ass time. I've been making songs with him for a long time, so it's just like recording with [Destroy Lonely]. It’s real easy—real easy to do.

You and Lone are working on an album together. Is that done?
Hell no.

What percentage of it is done?
Like 50.

How would you describe it?
I usually let the music speak for itself. I don't really know how to really put the notes and sounds into what it is really without singing the songs.

You guys have a date on it already, October 30. That’s months away.
Because we work hard.

So what’s the difference in taking so long to record something versus being more off the cuff?
Just giving yourself that time and space to do what needs to be done. It’s personal with every artist. It's about how you feel at that time when you drop it. Because me, personally, I record every day, bro. I make a lot of songs. So a lot of songs get left out.

What percentage of those songs do your fans hear, not counting leaks.
Probably like 7%.

I feel like a lot of fans would hear that and feel frustrated.
I don't know. I be trying. Now I'm trying to move like a nigga who be making music every day, bro. Putting it out is just another thing. Sometimes putting it out is energy draining.

You got everybody telling you how they want to hear you or how you supposed to be doing something.

I think about the line on “shadeson” where you're saying, "Whatever I do, they’re going to call it rage."
But I always told myself—before I ever became a rapper—I'm not going to be the one that be having motherfuckers sad and shit. I'm going to be the one turning motherfuckers up. So that's what I'm here to do. So many beat tempos is so slow to me. Even my songs that I call slow would be considered fast on a BPM scale. Like “i need u,” “mewtwo.” That’s slow to me, even though it got 808s. Slow is more of a vibe in my head.

But what if an artist who makes downbeat music wants to lock in with you? You were in Utah, you were recording with YoungBoy Never Broke Again.
He know how to make everything.

But what if he gave you some melodic, pain shit.
I'm not going to act like I don't know how to do it, bro. Anybody [can] go through my whole discography: It's rare where I'm on a slow beat. I like to make stuff that's going to make you move.

What was it like hanging out in Utah with YB?
Shit, we was making music.

But did you fuck with the ambiance? The nature?
Hell yeah, that shit was hard. He got one of them little truck shits that Ye and Carti got. It's like some big ass wheels. We were driving that bitch through the snow. It was snowing hard as fuck out here. I only had on a zip-up. I ain't used to all that snow.

I'm surprised he didn't have you hunting or fishing.
Shit. Nah, I'm trying to record.

So how many songs did y'all guys knock out?
A lot of songs. I don't know how many. We made a lot though.

Were you bringing your sound to him or he was trying to bring his shit to you?
It was a little bit of both. Of course we going to make both because it's two artists. Even when I'm recording with Lone, I’m rapping on Lone type shit too.

What's your preference when you're collaborating? Do you want to dictate the sound? Or are you open?
I feel like I want to turn their stage up type shit. Because everybody don't got the same crowd.

How would you describe your crowd?
Shit—elusive, nigga.

I saw you at Barclays with Carti. His shit was going off, of course. But I feel like your set was just as loud.
Mine was loud. When you're an opener, the music not as loud. So if people do know the music, they're going to be louder than the music. When Carti on stage, you can hear everything—they’re using every speaker in the building.

So, they don't have the music as loud for the opener?
Hell no. I feel like that's every show though.

So it's almost like you have to work harder?
I wouldn't even lie like you got to work harder because I've been on both ends of the stick. Being an opener, bro, it could be bad, It could be good. Because you got motherfuckers who are so amped to see Carti and don't know who the fuck you are. And then you got motherfuckers who are gonna leave and be like, “Who the fuck was that?” They look you up and now you got a new fan.

______

Ken, like many great Atlanta rappers before him, started young.

Born Kenyatta Lee Bettis Frazier Jr., his rap journey began in middle school, when he befriended Jalan Anthony Lowe, better known as producer Lil88, one of the architects of the underground sound. (He had an early placement on Carti’s Whole Lotta Red.)

One day, over FaceTime, Lil88 introduced Ken to his uncle TM88, a founding member of the legendary production crew 808 Mafia, alongside Lex Luger and Southside. "I went over there, and I don't think I ever left," Ken told Complex in 2022.

During the early days, Ken and Lil88 weren't even making music. They were kicking it, watching TM88 in his home studio make classics on the spot for icons like Young Thug, Gucci Mane, and Future. Seeing that level of talent come and go, soaking in that creative energy, was foundational for teenage Ken, and it shaped his work ethic.

On the day I visited, TM88 was hanging out in the studio, along with one of his producers, DJ Moon, who has three placements on Xperiment. He wasn’t there to work; he was just checking in. "I didn't meet Ken on no music shit,” he said. “It was more like, he was at the crib all the time, just chilling. He was one of the ones kind of putting me on to Grailed and shit like that. He was getting all Number (N)ine—anything that people was paying $2,000 to $4,000 for, he would already have it."

The early Ken music was more melodic, more reminiscent of Future and Young Thug. And it clocks: this was the mid-2010s, the peak Atlanta years, and TM88 was in the middle of that, crafting classics like "Codeine Crazy" and “Wyclef Jean.” Which means Ken, via TM88, was in proximity to the biggest stars in rap.

"We had this crib in L.A.,” TM88 recalled. “We had the pool outside. It was just me there. Then Wheezy pulled up. So me and him were cooking up for like three days. Then Southside flying in. We had Tay Keith pull up; Lil Dicky. I think Lil Xan was popping at the time. The house just got crazy. So Ken is there and he sees all of this shit going on, but he never did weird shit.”

He continued, "Every producer in the industry pulling up, all these artists, and the way he handled it, you wouldn't even think he was there. Everybody would go to sleep.” Eventually, they discovered that he was recording when he thought no one was clocking him. “You ain't gotta sneak and record, bro,” TM88 remembered telling him. “Nobody's using it; go in and record."

Eventually, Ken met Carti through Southside, and in 2020 became the first artist to sign with Carti’s label.

"I came from being in the studio all night, whether it was me rapping, Thug rapping, Carti rapping… I got real old heads," Ken Carson says. "But I'm also still learning too. As I learn, I'm letting others know the way to go."

During our interview, Ken talks about taking a hands-on approach with the rappers who are coming up on the scene. He mentions kicking game to ApolloRed1, who is Carti's blood cousin and the first artist under the rapper's YVL label, which is somehow different from Opium, but in ways that have not been clearly communicated.

For his Xperiment tour, he gave the opening slot to Xaviersobased, a young New York rapper who’s made noise in the underground. Xavier admits to not following Ken closely—“‘Me n My Kup’ is pain, though,” he says over the phone, shouting out a favorite song.

"I met him one time at Clout Fest a year ago and he just said, 'I fuck with the music.' And ever since then, me and him have just been loosely talking and shit," Xavier said. "We're definitely two completely different sounds. But it's weird though, because it's like some of our sounds overlap—because Ken will have some prettier songs and I'll have some darker songs too."

Still, the pairing is a bit of a gamble. One that says as much about Ken's penchant for collaboration as it does his confidence.

You got Xaviersobased on the new tour. Why'd you pick him?
Because I feel like all the young ones, they don’t be getting too much shine. I feel like my tour may be a chance for motherfuckers to break.

In the past, you’ve talked about niggas trying to label you underground, but you don’t like the label.
Nah, I don't really like it for nobody because even them niggas not underground. Even the underground niggas not underground. I was just telling ApolloRed1 the other day—because I be like on my fake mentor shit—I was telling him, I was telling [OsamaSon], like, "I don't think they know the powers y’all really got." Because I feel like from our time where it was me and Lone, a lot of motherfuckers didn't get that deal or didn't make it through.

And it's like in their era, it's kind of like you don't really need it all to make it through. I don't know the reason—but it's different. It's way more lenient now. You don't got to have the song. You can have the right hairstyle and then you got a fanbase, or you wearing the right shit, or you making something that somebody else making.

I think of someone like Nettspend, who gets called underground, but he's doing shit with Gucci.
You feel me? That's not underground, bro. For something to be underground, bro, it's so niche. And if you selling out a 2,000 room, bro, you not underground, bro. There’s people that's on the charts who can't even sell a 2,000 room.

What would you say to the people that say underground is more of a sound?
I don't think that either. Underground not a sound. It's just a community. It's really just a community, literally. I feel like everybody got the same floor. If them motherfuckers wake up with a hit tomorrow, then what? You feel me? It could be anybody. Only God can tell in the world.

Do you feel like you, compared to the average rapper, you're in the studio more?
Hell yeah. I don't even like a lot of shit, bro.

Well, I learned that you don’t drink.
That kill a lot, you feel me? I ain't trying to be in no club. I'm chilling. I'll never be drunk.

You talked about being on your mentor shit. Who are you mentoring?
All the young niggas, man. They need advice.

Give me an example. You pull ApolloRed1 to the side. Is he asking you for advice?
He don’t got to ask me. I'm just giving my two cents because I've been there before. And you'd rather hear it from somebody who did it before. It's just like your teacher telling you you ain't going to be shit. How are you going to tell me I ain't going to be shit? You ain't never tried to be no rapper.

Are you teaching him about money and spending?
Everything. I'm also still learning too.

Who's your mentor?
Carti. TM88. I got real old heads, man. Southside. I've been with [TM88] since I was 13 years old. You got to think, it's different for me, bro. All of this music shit is different for me.

What’s a professional moment where you’ve had the most doubt?
Nah, I ain't really that doubtful, bro. You can take all the money and music away right now. I feel like I found my way. Doubt? I don't feel like I got an inch of doubt. It's just like, bro, when you have never done it though, it's harder to grasp.

But after I did it, I'm like, “Shit.” It's any profession, bro. Once you get there, how you work when you get there is going to matter way more than any work you did before.

I saw you're celebrating five years of Project X. What do you remember about that moment?
I think I was at Interscope new studio and they had just got these speakers and they ain't come out and somebody had them tripping about them. And I was running through them. I made that shit within a week or two, but it took me a minute to put it out there.

What do you think about that album now?
Underrated.

I mean, you're celebrating it.
I ain't celebrating nothing. I just posted that shit. I'm in the studio. I don't really celebrate nothing though.

Why?
Because bro, you got to keep working. I’ll celebrate when I'm like 50.

What do you do for your birthday typically?
Me, personally? I was making songs. I was making songs, bro. Carti gave me a car and a chain.

What kind of car?
It's an Escalade V. Electric.

Do you guys usually exchange gifts?
I mean, it's the thought that counts. And I feel like we come through when it's something.

What's the best gift you've gotten him?
I don't know. That's for him to say.

Is there an Opium group chat?
Nah. We talk frequently. We don't need no group chat. I feel like a group chat is for like your dogs in different states and shit. I'm not really in no group chats.

You guys have a whole aesthetic. I'm wondering how this aesthetic got built? Do you and Carti talk it out?
I feel like it's an unspoken thing. We will never just sit down and be like, "Yo, what's swag?" If I see something I think is hard, I think it's hard. If he sees something, he think it's fire. It's fire. Especially if nobody ever seen it before. Then that's what makes it a new thing when someone's never seen it before or never seen somebody that looks like us do it.

How do you see the next couple of years playing out for you?
Bro, I'm just trying to make this shit. I feel like everybody know I do music. I just want to do all the other things that I'm into, type shit. Like clothes and movies and just creating.