“I'm in heaven,” says Killer Mike. “I have everything I need, minus strippers and weed.” He's on the phone with legendary OutKast MC Big Boi. It's 68 degrees at a pristine private race track just outside Palm Springs called the Thermal Club. We're here so Mike can test-drive some of the most powerful muscle cars on the market: the Ford Mustang Shelby GT350R, Chevrolet Camaro ZL1, and Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat Widebody. His wife of 11 years, Shana, is close enough to hear the stripper/weed comment and seems to agree. A handful of the Thermal Club's die-hard car-fanatic regulars stand around admiring all the horsepower on display. Black people. Brown people. White people. Young. Old. Heaven.

Killer Mike is an enigma—one of a long line of insanely talented weirdos associated with the legendary Atlanta rap crew known as the Dungeon Family. (Ya know: Goodie Mob, OutKast, etc.) Unlike their contemporaries from New York City or Los Angeles, CeeLo, Big Boi, André 3000, Killer Mike, and the rest are black and country. Hear them rap or spend five minutes in their company and it's apparent that they are national treasures, too. Mike is the guild's gentle giant: “Yes, sir,” he says. “Oh, that's awesome, sir.” “I'd love to learn, sir.” Mike made a middle-aged mechanic's day by asking him if they could take a photo together—for Mike to have. I doubt that mechanic has heard Mike's verse on OutKast's “The Whole World.” Or any of his work with Brooklyn rapper/producer El-P as Run the Jewels—easily one of the most successful second acts for a rapper in history.

When he's behind the wheel of one of the cars, Mike gets big-eyed, like a teenager. You almost forget that this is the same guy who spent the past few years in the political hot seat as Bernie Sanders's unofficial talk-show surrogate. (In our dreams, Bernie made Mike his running mate.) In fact, when someone makes the biopic about the wackiest election in American history, someone will have to play Killer Mike. His character will surely add intelligence to the conversation, and relief to all the tension. Some hope. Some assurance that no matter what happens in the White House, there are people back home on tree-lined country roads trying to make America a little better for us all. A little more like heaven.

GQ Style: What got you into American muscle cars?

Killer Mike: For me, muscle cars are a tribute to American ingenuity. Most of these cars are inspired by ones built 50 or 60 years ago. Some guys were tinkering in their garage, trying to get more horsepower out of the engines that Detroit was building. They were constantly trying to figure out how to maximize power. America has done a great job making brutally fast, stripped-down cars.

I just like cars, period. I can find something to like about pretty much any car. I've had as much fun whipping around Italy in a little Mini Cooper as I've had whipping through Miami in a Bentley GT.

With all due respect, you're like six three and not a petite dude. You were really whipping around Italy in a Mini Cooper?

Yeah! Crammed in that thing, man. They're actually roomier inside than you would think. A little Mini Cooper, no bullshit. I had a ball. I used to have go-karts and mopeds and motorcycles when I was a kid. Then my grandpa let me drive a real car at about 13 or 14 and I just… I never cared about bikes again after that.

Have you always had muscle cars?

You know, I always encourage dads: Once you marry, be a good husband—but never sell your muscle car. Drive the kids to school in the minivan or whatever, but don't sell your Camaro. Don't sell your Mustang. Don't sell your Dodge. Because on the weekends you're going to feel forever 18, and that's good for the family. You need to stay energized for them. But more than that, your kids like cool cars. And your kids like getting dropped off to school in cool cars. And their friends like it, and it builds a bond—girl or boy. Like when I go get my little 10-year-old girl from school, you'd think the fucking Batmobile picked her up.

Who's the fastest driver—you, Big Boi, or T.I.?

Probably Tip, because he's not as afraid of going to jail as I am. But I rank right behind him. Big is more into the Bentleys and cruisers.

Yeah, that's honestly what I picture when I picture Atlanta—smooth, chill, player cruisers. These muscle cars almost seem anti-Atlanta.

No, no, no, no, no.… Historically, people look at Atlanta from the OutKast perspective of Lincolns and Cadillacs. But I'm from the Westside. I'm from Atlanta Atlanta. I'm from Chevelles and Camaros. I'm from where street racing happens. When you think Westside Atlanta, think Killer Mike, T.I., Dro. We like fast—brutally fast—cars, so if you was thinking of a true Atlanta car, that's the Chevelle. It really is. When you're talking late '60s to early '70s muscle cars, the Chevelle is Atlanta's favorite. People think of Cadillacs and Lincolns because they know OutKast's first album. But OutKast is from, like, College Park, East Point. I'm from the city limits of Atlanta, and in Atlanta muscle cars reign supreme. The Chevelle is the king of muscle cars.

What do you drive around Atlanta?

My everyday car is the Dodge Hellcat. I live in a state that's white and black and, of course, southern, so...from a stereotypical standpoint you don't think of these two types of southerners really mixing. But I probably have a lot more in common with a lot of white stereotypical southern males. I grew up fishing, hunting. Grew up tinkering with cars with my grandpa and stuff. They tell us we're different, but a lot of my interests are the same as white southern males. But a car will bring you together. I'm in the streets every day in this blacked-out Hellcat with black tint. I jump out of it and I'm standing in the store and the next thing I know, there's an old white guy with a head full of gray hair who walks up to me and says, “That's your Hellcat outside?” Yeah it is, I reply. “It's a beautiful car.” And it's at least a 15-to-20-minute conversation about my car, about his first cars, and we really find common ground. This is four or five times a day.

So maybe America needs more Hellcats?

I think more muscle cars, period!

Let me ask you: You're an entrepreneur. Run the Jewels' core fan base is a very progressive, intellectual group of people. Working with Bernie Sanders, you tore shit up on CNN on what felt like a daily basis.… Do you ever regret having the name Killer Mike?

No, I don't. Because I didn't want to be Killer Mike. I didn't wake up and say, “You know what would be badass? I'm fucking Killer Mike! I kill motherfuckers!” I would have wanted to be called “Like Me” Mike or “Girls Dig Me” Mike.

So how are you Killer Mike?

My nickname was Little Mike or Skunk. I slammed the door in my sister's face when I was a kid, and my grandmother called me a low-down skunk. Skunk became my neighborhood nickname. Skunk is like what my kid's mom calls me when she gets mad at me: “I don't care who you went and got married to, you're still Skunk to me!” I always liked Skunk as a rap name. But one day, I freestyle-battled this entire group of dudes, and I murdered them! Every single one of them. A DJ named Double D stood up on the dresser in the corner and said, “Yo, this kid is a killer. He's killed all y'all. Just shut up.” I came back a few weeks later, and no one ever called me Skunk again.

Just like that: Killer Mike forever.

I'm Killer Mike because I earned it. I was proud of it. I remember one of the people at my record label was like, “Um…I'm not going to be able to place you in things because your name is Killer Mike.” I saw that same lady two months ago, and she was like, “Yo, I'm absolutely amazed at what you've been able to do.” All it took was for white folks to say I was good, and now you love me. I shamed her a little bit, but I understood. They just didn't understand how intelligent I was. They didn't understand how innovative the things I was trying to push were. And it was just too early, you know?

I appreciate Senator Sanders and [former Ohio state senator] Nina Turner for having the wherewithal to see past a moniker or a rap name and see the human being Michael Render. And see my care and concern for the community. And that's why when I go on television, I make sure you know my name is Michael Render. Call me Killer Mike after we establish that. The first thing we're going to establish when I'm on CNN, Fox, any of those shows, is that my name is Michael Render. So you're talking to Michael Render, who has a caricature called Killer Mike that raps—and that world is fantasy and you can learn some real factual things in that—but when I turn that microphone off and I go home today, I'm Shana's husband. I'm Pony, Mikey, Aniyah, and Malik's dad. That's who I am. And I have a muscle car in the garage.

How would you rate America's health right now?

The health of America? Mental health, we're not doing good. Because people are polarized, people are afraid, and people are being fed fear and phobia every day via the news.

How do you get news?

Well, the best way to get news is communicate with people and travel. It's not about getting news, it's about gaining perspective. The news is just what people want to gossip about that day. High or low. You want to gossip about your neighbor's house, or you want to gossip about Trump groping women. It's usually gossip. North, East, South, and West gossip, right? But perspective is what I would like more Americans to gain, and the way you get perspective is you get out of your shell, out of your box, and travel. So I'm most worried about America's mental health.

Watch:

Watch Killer Mike Test Drive American Muscle Cars in the California Desert

Also, as a fat guy in America, I gotta eat more greens, gotta walk and exercise more, you know? So that's what I've been trying to do. That's what other people have to do. We know that. And especially men. Men hold a lot in, you know? I talked to [activist and educator] Jane Elliott, and she said, “You know, Mike, white men are dying because they're keeping so much inside. They're fed hate and racism and told they're supposed to give that to other people. They carry around guilt, stress, and strife.” And it's true. And as black men, look at what we carry around. We carry huge burdens, and then it expresses itself through these weird-ass public displays of anger and violence and shouting. It's all Americans.

Who do you think is going to be the next president of the United States?

I don't know.

If you had to give a name right now.

I would like to see Senator Bernie Sanders as president and former senator Nina Turner as his vice president. If Bernie Sanders would not run, I would like to see Nina Turner be the president of these United States, and I would like to see a woman like Elizabeth Warren be her vice president.

You didn't vote for Hillary, right?

No, absolutely not.

Why not? Why not after Bernie was out of the race? Wouldn't the best thing for America, between those two options, clearly be Hillary?

How? Why? How would it have been?

Mike, come on. Do you really think Hillary would have been a worse president than Trump?

It's not about worse. Would we still be heading into war? Absolutely. Would African-Americans be any safer from agents of the state, meaning police? Absolutely we would not. And the reason I'm saying this is because when asked by Hillary Clinton's campaign to publicly go speak on her behalf, and when I got calls from everyone from local politicians in Atlanta to Pharrell, I asked for one simple thing: Give me a sit-down with her or a promise for the black community. And for those who say, “Why would she promise to the black community? Why would she promise to the gay community? Why would she promise to the women's community? Why would she promise to the immigrant population?” Like James Baldwin said, I waited all my life. I have waited 60 years. You asked my mother to wait. You asked my brother. What am I waiting for? If my ally is not going to ensure that I advance, then my ally is acting as an enemy. It's just that simple. Not like I didn't want to help. I would have loved to have helped. But what happens the day after I help? How do you help me? The African-American vote should not be married to any political party. It should be married to an African-American agenda.

So, if I'm understanding correctly, not voting for Hillary Clinton was a form of protest?

Absolutely.

Let's talk Run the Jewels. A lot of people try a second act, but yours actually worked. How did it happen?

I don't know. I got lucky and I don't stop working. I was always a little ahead of what was next, and finally it all hit at one time. You know? It all locked in. Now the brilliance of Run the Jewels is not so much that we did it; the brilliance is that we've had the wherewithal not to throw it away. When you hunt fame and fortune and recognition for so long, when it finally comes you really are prepared for it. And El-P and I are friends that have grown into family and who understand that we are far more powerful together. We are powerful together as a group, and that makes us stronger individuals. If I was saying some of the things I say in regard to black America without Run the Jewels, people would think I was a raving lunatic and would accuse me of shit like reverse racism. But you can't. You gotta understand I'm coming from a real, earnest place. My best fucking friend is a white guy from Brooklyn. So it's not like I'm saying, “Hey, man, I hate you.”

We ran a story with André, who said that he felt like Big Boi was always a better rapper than him. Who do you think was the best out of the Dungeon Family?

CeeLo is the one. Yeah, he's absolutely the one. Don't get it fucked up. Go listen to CeeLo on the DJ Muggs compilation. I get chills—like, you can see it now! I got goose bumps. Tell them I'm not bullshittin'. The best rapper in the Dungeon Family is CeeLo Green, absolutely.

Mark Anthony Green is GQ's style editor.

This story appears in the Spring 2018 issue of GQ Style with the title “American Muscle.”