It was the first hot day of June.
Bizzy Banks and I settle into cushy seats ahead of our discussion, his gray hoodie concealing ear-length braids. On the surface, Bizzy is a no-frills Drill artist native to East New York, Brooklyn, a place that produces some of the toughest figures in the city. When you really get to know him, you discover that Bizzy is a natural wordsmith, born to illustrate his reality through lyrical story.
Bizzy had just returned to the city from a trip to Arizona. “Just relaxing,” he shrugs when I ask about his out-west activities. There isn’t much inspiration for Drill music over there.
Drill music, a sound native to the streets of Chicago, dominated airwaves and quickly commanded the ear of popular culture in the early 2010s. Just a few years after the start of the craze, New York had something to say.
Drill music can be described as a genre of raw street storytelling, marked by themes of urban competition and extensive gang conflict. A derivative of trap music, the drill scene draws on real-world storylines and a hot potato style of musical exchange between rivaling artists. Think murky, heavy 808 drums, ominous melodies, and piano keys played in minor. A dark, minimalistic sound where the raw lyricism paints the whole picture. Just as Hip-Hop’s counter-cultural themes ruled during the hardship of the 1970s, New Yorkers turned to drill to express their angst.
What you should understand about Brooklyn Drill is that most artists are affiliates, close friends, or enemies of each other, often originating from the same neighborhoods, gangs, and schools. The music is far from fiction. The heightened familiarity among the artists makes for incredibly anecdotal and detailed music. When there are conflicts, the artists resort to diss tracks to address the beef, which can get hideously personal. Should a diss track mention a deceased associate or disrespectful lyric, emotions often translate to real-world violence.
As Brooklyn’s drill scene began heating up in 2019 so did the streets. Artists like Pop Smoke saw mainstream success, pitting an unquenchable thirst for stardom in Brooklyn’s heartland. Everyone wanted a hit like Welcome to the Party. In the age of social media, however, the music itself is hardly enough to get the people talking. You need the look, you need the confidence, and you need the undeniable blood-stained street cred.
A new market was open. A gold rush-style free-for-all erupted, the prize being street glory and instant fame. Rooted in the murky soundscapes of the UK Drill scene, artists like 22Gz, CoachDaGhost, Sheff G, and Pop Smoke formulated a distinct sound that would set off a domino effect of new faces and dark storylines. Brooklyn, after years of dormancy, had gotten its swagger back.
Amidst the madness stood 21-year-old Majesty Moses, known to the streets as Bizzy Banks. Small-statured and soft-spoken, Bizzy made a big name for himself through his explosive confidence on tracks like Don’t Start and Structure Gang Freestyle. Bizzy’s star was firmly planted in the virgin soil of Brooklyn’s music scene, just as he had prepared for.
“I was rapping since I was a kid,” Bizzy tells me. “I’ve always been about music: writing, freestyling. It comes naturally to me.” Being raised in a Trinidadian background and attending a performing arts school in his youth, Bizzy was molded for the high demands of being a musical artist in the modern age. Following his early success, he was eagerly motivated to continue contributing to the mosaic of Brooklyn artistry as the new decade arrived in early 2020.
Then, when the news of Pop Smoke’s murder broke, so did Brooklyn. Pop and Bizzy had grown close following their early success, and began working together on music and career moves. “We had a lot planned,” he reveals. The two collaborated on the hit song 30 just before Pop’s death, heightening the astonishing and confusing impact. “It was like a roller coaster,” Bizzy recalls of the time.
Now that Pop was gone, Bizzy needed to take the next step to claim the throne on behalf of his lost friend. He had to lock in. Finding what spoke to him most, he produced a high volume of music from the heart. He was in the zone, and his growing acclaim reflected that.
Then, boom. Another shockwave disrupted his flow, this one being the seismic impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic. “We was all outside, and then nothing.” Bizzy reflects. His will was to be challenged once more. Studios closed. Collaborations put on halt. Nowhere to perform music. There was no clear way to climb the ladder. How badly did he want it?
Bizzy resolved to steady the course. Penning music inspired by quarantine-induced woes, he was motivated by his belief in his abilities and the opportunity that lay ahead. On the other side of lockdown stood the crown of Brooklyn Drill. Keeping his close-knit fanbase involved all throughout, Bizzy’s dedication to the grind produced GMTO (Get Money Takeover) Vol. 1.
Boasting hits like Top 5, Outro, Extra Sturdy and the heavily anticipated Don’t Start, Pt.2, the hungry, grieving streets were fed with the nutrition of ferocious energy and intelligent lyricism. Bizzy had arrived at the doorstep of Drill’s Majesty, accepting no less than the throne.
Picture it: months of isolation, repressed emotions, and stifled sociability. Scores of online chatter and endless confrontation – tensions were heightening, and bound to reach a point of devastation. Murders erupted, and celebratory songs followed. Calling out the deceased by name, the “Dead Opps” trend had become commonplace. Pride, respect, and affiliations were at stake. Retaliatory murders, often involving the innocent, became a typical solution. New York’s drill scene was booming with this morbid game of tag, and Bizzy found himself unwillingly in the mix.
Ask ten different New Yorkers about their memories of the pandemic and you’ll get ten different answers. For every story of struggle, there was one of relaxation or even indulgence. For essential workers, it was hard work and business as usual. Others clacked away at their keyboards and showed up half asleep to zoom calls.
The “Bandemic” was a euphoric time for many in the streets, with unemployment checks fantastically ballooning to several thousand each week, amplifying the scam culture already festering in the fringes. “Outside” was in full effect, emboldening violent, nefarious, and chaotic lifestyle choices. Something had to give.
And it gave.
As decisively as they came up, braggadocious machismo was ultimately the downfall of many artists who saw success. It seemed every day produced a grim chapter in the book of Drill, with tragic deaths and incarcerations rolled through the streets like a reaper with a vengeance.
Though he avoids violence and keeps a tight circle, bloodshed accompanies the drill scene territory, Bizzy Banks being no exception. He saw friends and foes go down by forces he knew would soon creep closer, but remained steadfast in his quest for the pinnacle of rap.
Bizzy kept a steady hand, producing music at a modest rate and keeping his Same Energy as a foundation. His creative process was one he mastered during this time of focus. “The beats talk to me,” he says, pulling down the cloth of his hoodie. “Once I got a good beat, I could talk about anything in my life. that’s just where the energy comes from.”
Bizzy’s not about gimmicks when it comes to his creations. Developing vivid imagery, comprised of his experiences in the streets of Brooklyn, just comes naturally. “I definitely freestyle a lot, but I take my time and write when I feel like my thoughts are all over the place.” A man of his word, Bizzy’s aim is to keep his lyrics as authentic and genuine to his character as possible. “When I’m writing a song, I want to word everything properly and really squeeze what I want to put into it.”
Bizzy’s hard work proved fruitful. He successfully established a strong international following and was regarded by critics and Drill heads as a dynamic force. Check any Hip-Hop, Drill, or New York City-based forum during Bizzy’s early campaign, and you’ll see just how beloved his artistry has always been.
Just when Bizzy’s star appeared primed for a higher echelon, a curveball walloped his plans. Again. Bizzy was convicted on several charges and in prison at 23 years old, tossing a wrench into the prime of his career.
Incarceration will teach you a thing or two about motivations. That’s just what Bizzy used his time for, reflecting on the decisions that landed him in another stint of isolation. The horrors of America’s underworld drove Bizzy away from wicked temptations and toward his passion for songwriting. With each passing month, he meditated carefully on what he desired next.
Creativity and inspiration were lost on Bizzy while locked up. “I write about cool shit,” he smirks. “And ain’t nothing about jail that’s cool.” Despite the burning urge to record new music, he found it difficult for his mind to settle enough to write. “I just wanted to hear a beat,” he shakes his head. Long nights alone with his thoughts produced doubts. “Do I still got it?”
At the same time Bizzy was battling writer’s block during his sentence, a musical renaissance was brewing uptown. Though Brooklyn had paved the way for Drill in New York, it was the Bronx’s time now.
Artists like Kay Flock, Dthang, Edot Baby, and Sha Ek burst onto the scene with rapid success. Bizzy took notes of the newcomers’ prowess and realized he had to step his own game up. Should he want to match the hype of the Bronxites’ upbeat, TikTok-friendly appeal, reinvention was necessary.
Around the same time, Bizzy felt he learned all that he could from his 10-month incarceration. His sentence was over. It was time to come home.
“When I came home, I was focused on my career and everybody that’s around me,” Bizzy shares. “While I was in, I wasn’t really able to focus on my mental health, my emotions.” A reorganizing of his priorities has elevated his mindset. “Everything’s starting to come in place,” he says of the present.
Just like the adjustment to normalcy after COVID lockdowns, reacclimating to society had its growing pains. New father Bizzy struggled to balance the demands of family and celebrity, something he says sincerely affected his mental state. “I get stressed out,” he says honestly. “Trying to get someone to understand who I am and what I come with. I didn’t really be able to understand how to be a soulmate.”
It’s still a work in process for the mother of Bizzy’s daughter to understand the world of an artist, especially one who values his solitude. “I’m at that point when I’m in the studio that I just want creative thoughts. I don’t want to be texting every five minutes or arguing or picking up the phone,” he says with a drag. “I just want to be in the creative process.”
The creative process is something that Bizzy mentioned several times during our conversation. I ask him for a few words that describe his methodology. “Patience, humility, consistency,” he says, pausing to search for more. I’m grinning, because I realize that he’s inadvertently describing himself. “It’s easy for me to write because I just keep it real and talk about my life, my thoughts.”
There’s a long way to go before Bizzy reaches the summit of success, and he realizes this. Making hits, he assures, is far from easy. But numbers aren’t what he’s after. Bizzy’s definition of success is measured by quality output, the well-being of his loved ones, and the satisfaction of his fanbase. “I could care less about industry shit,” Bizzy frankly puts it. Instead of straining to appeal to a broader base, Bizzy is focused on the people who have been with him from the start. “I just want to keep making music that shows my supporters my appreciation for them. They’re the ones that got me here, and I want to keep feeding them.”
Despite being a famous rapper, Bizzy isn’t much for the spotlight, as you may have gathered. Though a world tour and international acclaim aren’t out of his sights, keeping it in Brooklyn is enough to fuel the flames of his artistry. Even his namesake is of a local origin.
“Bizzy was an older head in my neighborhood that they used to say I looked like,” he chuckles. “I was always around them, so I eventually just became Little Bizzy.” The ‘Banks’ part emanates from Bizzy’s fascination with New York artists like Lloyd Banks, who he’d watched on TV as a kid, replicating the rapping and freestyling that impressed him.
Bizzy assures that he does it for “us,” now employing motivations of community support rather than street politics or financial gain. As one of the remaining figures of the Drill scene, Bizzy understands his role amongst his peers. “I see myself as a leader. The more I get older, I’m starting to understand that I’m the face.” I can see the ideas flowing. Bizzy’s got that spark of self-belief in his eye. He’s been playing the music game since he was a child, and it’s come time for winning. “I feel like I’m the one that’s going to change everything. And that change is going to make everybody shift over to what I’m doing.”
Get Money Take Over Vol. 2 marks the second installment in Bizzy’s popular franchise and his first project release since 2021. It’s a return to Bizzy’s strong lyrical ability and knack for gritty storytelling, suggesting he’s finding his stride as an artist previously set-back. He promises that his music will continue to evolve as he matures, and cites reinvention as a key to becoming great.
Inspirations to Bizzy, including Future, Little Uzi Vert, and Chief Keef experienced varying degrees of failure and success before reaching the heights they currently cruise at. For every setback, there was a reinvention in their style or artistry, something Bizzy says he is learning to master.
“I came so far with my own lingo, my own swag, my own people in my corner. I know I’m able to do it again,” Bizzy says over the phone. “I know that would help me grow as an artist and potentially become someone bigger in my own lane. Because that’s what I really care about – my own growth as a person.”
His big ideas are supported by a big heart and a passion for his craft. The people around him believe he can follow through on these promises, too. It’s a recipe that calls for unlimited success.
In the meantime, he’s just Bizzy from the East, a kid who loved rapping so much he made a career out of it. But don’t blink – Bizzy’s David spirit is bound to Goliath at any moment.
