"New Atlanta," a concept propagated mostly by blogs to organize the riches of rap's constantly evolving, intimidatingly prolific capital city, entails a yearly changing of the guard. In just the last handful of years, we’ve seen Future take the mantle and inspire a school of hoarse, melody-driven imitators, only to be phased out by adlib-happy hit machines like Migos, yawping innovators like Young Thug, and precocious party-starters Rae Sremmurd. There’s a loose formula: Get acquainted with local hit-making producers like Zaytoven, Metro Boomin, the 808 Mafia crew; get a hit on the strip club circuit and local airwaves; collaborate extensively and pump out free projects hosted by the mixtape DJ of favor; maybe sign a 360 deal. The formula works, and has pumped out a lot of great, occasionally cutting-edge rap music.

But it’s not the only way to find success in Atlanta, as Awful Records’ kingpin Father has proved. His effortless-sounding, maddeningly catchy single "Look at Wrist" exploded on to the scene last summer, turning dancefloors into cooking dance mosh pits nationwide without so much as a DJ Holiday drop. Along with peers iLoveMakonnen and Key! (conveniently, the single’s two featured artists), he’s part of the latest iteration of "New Atlanta," broadly characterized for their DIY ethos and rough-around-the-edges minimalism. And while Makonnen quickly became the scene’s most visible constituent, Father’s been proving himself as its most consistent member. Who’s Gonna Get Fucked First?, a 12-song blast that dropped unannounced last week, is his strongest project yet, and a flag planted firmly in the soil of rap’s current epicenter. He reminds us that with good ideas and confidence in your own vision, you don’t need to play by any rules but your own.

"Look at Wrist", the song that put Awful on the map, came with a hilarious subtext that almost didn’t register because of its hypnotizing repetition. "Never had to whip a brick, but I get the gist" felt like meta-commentary on middle American rap fans’ investment in trap lingo with a total remove from the lifestyle. Father wasn’t moralizing—we’re all just trying to have fun here—but this wry, knowing wink consistently informs his work, even in the midst of the turn-up. This is music that’s deceptively simple, that’s deeper than it lets on.

The SoundCloud description of Who’s Gonna Get Fucked First? states its intent plainly: "32-mins of pure, unfiltered debauchery." This is party music about girls and drugs and fights, over efficient beats with lots of empty space. The unprintable title might give some initial pause, but it fits. Even more than partying, this is an album about sex—weird, freaky, intoxicated, potentially group sex—but also, consensual, mutually pleasurable, and age-appropriate. Father handles the topic with a maturity and egalitarianism that feels revelatory, resulting in the most sex-positive rap release of the year. On "Vamp", in the midst of frothing come-ons, Father reminds his paramour, "You have a right to all your choices." "Morena", featuring Awful members Stalin Majesty and Abra, riffs on Big Pun and Joe in an adoring homage to women of color. (Elsewhere, Abra—one of Awful’s two female members—steals the show on bratty, hater-baiting flex "Gurl".) And on album highlight "BET Uncut", Richposlim delivers a strong candidate for best guest verse of 2015, clowning slut-shaming men into submission: "I say she’s sexually liberated! You call her ass a ho." It’s one of many sharp insights hidden in plain sight amid the Henny-guzzling and pill-popping.

Where so much Atlanta rap of the last half decade has been indebted to crunk, Father seems more inspired by snap music, the subgenre that tore up mid-2000s parties with ringtone-friendly 808s, finger-snaps, and raucous dance instructionals. The sound requires a rare sort of magnetism, one that can command a room without seeming to try, a quality Father has in spades. Jermaine Dupri’s label So So Def also looms over the project, and Father even references So So Def one-hit wonder J Kwon on bow-throwing, drink-sloshing two-minute cut "Everybody in the Club Gettin Shot".

But Father’s primary influence isn’t from Atlanta (or, arguably, from this plane of existence) at all: He has always shown a clear debt to Lil B, less in sound than in based spirit. He nods to him directly on grimy cut "Read Her Lips", one of three KeithCharles Spacebar-produced tracks here, with the hook: "First I go on tour, then I fuck my bitch." But the album’s basedness—its oddly memorable turns of phrase, sincere devotion to the absurd and mundane, and purposefully sketchy, homemade quality—feels like a logical extension of a brain raised on bugged-out cartoons, anime, and the infinite rabbit hole of the Internet. Father was a visual artist before coming around to rap, and has cited a childhood fascination with "Rocko's Modern Life" and other '90s cartoons informed by acid trips and dirty jokes—stuff with a visceral appeal for children, but a snarky, debauched subtext for adults. It’s the same ethos that turns even the most seemingly straightforward Father tracks slightly askew.

With the exception of the KeithCharles Spacebar contributions, Father handles the production of the album himself. His style is aggressively minimal, leaving him room to experiment with rhythm and timing to better effect. It’s the ideal canvas for lines that embed themselves into your subconscious for days, the stuff you catch yourself mumbling into the mirror while brushing the Henny aftertaste off your teeth. And Father’s wry, casual lyricism is sharp and often loaded with insights, capable of doing a lot with a little. On the excellent "Back in the "A" Freestyle/On It", Father sets a hilarious scene with just three simple lines: "Run up on me, leave you looking like Eddie Winslow/ In that episode when he got his ass beat/ Take my niggas, then cash out at the Zaxby’s." He then insists on buying lunch for the whole squad. Friends, fights, and fast food: It might not be what you’ve come to expect from the hallowed grounds of "New Atlanta," but Father’s never played by those rules anyway.