I stumbled on this SoundCloud playlist by accident — apparently uploaded by some dude who says his neighbor “used to rap & do beats back in the day.” Clicked out of curiosity… and ended up sitting through the whole thing with the same feeling you get when you open an old shoebox full of forgotten photos. This “album” (really a wild, chronological playlist) plays like the secret history of Atlanta hip-hop told through one duo’s rise, rupture, and heartbreak. From the first track — a raw skating-rink recording at Thrasherville in Lawrenceville — you’re hit with pure early ’90s Southern bass energy. Before they were officially OddACity, it’s just MC Dillon Gramz and DJ Tic Boom snapping like they belong on the same shelf as “Da Dip,” “Tootsee Roll,” and “Whoomp! (There It Is).” The authenticity is ridiculous; it feels like someone unearthed a tape that’s been sitting in a drawer since Freaknik ’93.
Then the playlist shifts, and you hear OddACity evolve in real time. The “Shawty” remix shows them tipping into that Inoj/Ghost Town DJs lane — bright ATL booty-bass sparkle with Big Tic (now going by his newer name) carrying the production while Gramz floats in clean. By the time you hit the Country as a Buttermilk Biscuit cut, they’ve stepped straight into Outkast territory: storytelling, chemistry, the sense of two Atlanta kids figuring out their voice before crunk swallowed the city whole. The follow-up tracks trace the actual fracture in their dynamic — that Ying Yang/David Banner-esque crunk joint where they clearly aren’t in sync anymore, the snap-era reunion where they briefly find the magic again, and then Gramz’s solo track where the subliminals aren’t even subtle. Suddenly this isn’t just nostalgia; it’s a document of a group falling apart in the way only rap duos do.
But the real gut punch hits in the final stretch — Big Tic’s Gangsta Grillz diss, Gramz’s underground counter-strike, and finally the last track Tic ever recorded: a small-room, shaky-mic tribute after Gramz passed. You can hear the years of brotherhood, beef, regret, and loss all folding into his voice. By the end, this playlist stops being a curiosity and turns into something closer to folklore — the kind of neighborhood myth that deserves to be preserved. If you want to hear the evolution of Atlanta hip-hop through the lens of two artists who lived every era, hit play immediately.
