It's clearer in hindsight how rare the Migos were. Later, while Quavo and Offset shopped their demos around Atlanta strip clubs, Takeoff - single-minded, baby-faced, without a fake ID - would be up all night, making songs to play for them when they got home. Songs had to be recorded in perfect start-to-finish bursts, which wasn't a problem for Takeoff, hence the name. Back when Quavo was the high school quarterback and Offset was in and out of trouble in their hometown of Lawrenceville, Ga., a suburb north of Atlanta, it was Takeoff assembling a makeshift studio in the basement of his aunt's house, where all three boys lived: a sock-covered Walmart microphone, a free software program meant for making slideshows. There would be no Migos without any one of its members - an uncle (Quavo), nephew (Takeoff) and cousin (Offset) who thought of themselves like brothers - but literally speaking, there would be no Migos without Takeoff. Senseless is the only way to describe his death early Tuesday morning, when he was reportedly shot and killed outside a Houston bowling alley at 28. His only solo album, 2018's The Last Rocket, sampled the broadcast of a record-breaking space jump "I'ma ghost-ride the Wraith, I wanna look at the stars today," he rapped on the song "Casper." From the beginning, he had an air of gravitas. Labelmates at Atlanta's Quality Control Music had nicknamed Takeoff "the Silent Killer," frequently lost in his own zone in the studio until it was time to unleash in the booth. He was the youngest of the trio, just 18 when their breakthrough hit "Versace" blew up, but his voice was always the deepest - the baritone of an old bluesman, time-worn beyond his years.
With Quavo as the frontman and Offset as the wild card, it was Takeoff who laid the foundation upon which the best rap group of a generation was built.
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