Houston Club-Rap Hero BeatKing’s Raucous Spirit Still Flows Through His City

For more than a decade, you could go to any club in Houston—from the Northside to the Southside, Third Ward, and Southwest—and hear BeatKing’s voice and beats cracking through like Dionysus spurring debauchery from above. He was the self-proclaimed Club God, and he lived up to that title. Like 2 Live Crew’s Uncle Luke, he offered hedonistic fun to those who worshiped at his altar of blunt production, wild non-sequiturs, and raucous call-and-response: “Welcome to Houston, everybody fuckin’ everybody” and “If you keep your pussy clean, then scream” and “Pop that ass, throw it/Kill the pussy, COVID.” (His signature 150-point Impact font tees doubled down on the crude quotables: “SHE THICK IF HER TOILET SEAT LOOSE.”) He was the Chuck D of booty-shaking acrobatics. He was also a generous member of the scene known for extending a hand to nearly every DJ in the city.

Houston is sadly accustomed to losing its artists before their time, whether by incarceration or death. But even amid that swampy haze of grief, the passing of the man born Justin Riley from a pulmonary embolism last summer—just three months shy of his 40th birthday—was an especially harsh blow.

BeatKing’s lasting presence is an argument for regional legacy. He never had a legit nationwide hit but his songs still collected more than 150 million streams online as they became synonymous with late nights and random parties in his hometown and beyond. He had a viral moment in 2020 when “Then Leave,” a collaboration with fellow Houstonite Queendom Come, exploded on TikTok, but it didn’t define him; he’s a cult figure who levitates on holier ground.

Since 2010, BeatKing fed Houston with a steady stream of club records synonymous with the city. “Crush” and “Hammer,” two of his earliest hits, leaned heavily on skeletal arrangements, punchy synth stabs, and thundering drums. The sound evolved and got faster, evoking church revival with sliding snares and hypnotic lead-ins on “Stand Behind Her” and “Scared.” But he generally stuck to his bread-and-butter, taking cues from his days in high school marching band and luring listeners in every single time.

Houston hip-hop isn’t a monolith. It brings together everything from Maxo Kream’s Hoover-heavy blues to Propain’s even-keeled narration to Sauce Walka’s animated declarations. They’re all facets of the city, an arc for a preferred moment. But few names could rival what BeatKing produced when it came to lose-your-mind club anthems.

Behind the scenes, BeatKing was making sure his profane gospel hit the right ears. “He definitely had a way with making the music, but how he networked with DJs was the real trick,” said Kiotti Brown, a radio host on Houston’s hip-hop station The Beat. “Most artists with regional success are too ‘busy,’ but he outworked anyone when it came to pulling up and testing his songs.” Mr. Wired Up, an influential DJ at the popular Houston strip club Onyx who’s also released a steady stream of mixtapes and albums, attests to BeatKing’s determination as well. “Houston strip clubs are like the lifeblood of how songs break in the city, and he understood that and knew his music would go to another level in this setting. He’ll forever be one of the best to do it.”

According to Brown, who has also worked as a club DJ, the health of the Houston rap scene might have diminished slightly following BeatKing’s death, but local voices have maintained a steady presence beyond what breaks nationally. “There are two artists who could carry the torch, and one was already halfway doing it in DJ Chose,” he said, talking about the rapper and producer who frequently collaborated with BeatKing and helped break some of his early records at the nearby Prairie View A&M University. “Honestly speaking, there was love, but it was always quiet competition between him and BeatKing. They brought the best out of each other.” 

The other name Brown cites as one to watch is OTB Fastlane: “He’s the biggest in the streets and the most consistent.” Fastlane built off the momentum of his 2018 regional hit “Dawg Azz,” a sliding swath of piano keys morphing into bubbling drums and isolated snares, with 2020’s “My Bussin,” a clever flip of Dallas rapper Lil Wil’s “My Dougie,” and 2022’s “Look Like Money,” which samples the keys from Webbie’s “Like That.” Among street acts in Houston, Fastlane doesn’t slow down—his bounce and braggadocio are tailor-made for nightlife stunting.

While the city has its stars from the Northside to the Southside, DJ Hollygrove, of chopped and screwed collective the Chopstars, believes BeatKing’s formula can’t be replicated. “Over the years, a lot of people mimicked the sound but didn’t have the energy,” he said. “BeatKing had a presence about him. A lot of people came and borrowed his formula and had hits over the years, but they didn’t have that sustained run he did.”

BeatKing muscled his way to the front of the club’s consciousness night after night for years. His music blares as loud as ever, even if it doesn’t hit quite the same. “I was running some BeatKing last night and paying attention to the crowd,” the local producer, DJ, and podcast host Donnie Houston told me late last year. “The energy is still there when he comes on, but it just feels weird knowing he’s not here anymore.”