{shortcode-66a449ae28de05517ca18a9b355d8bd9af2b7a4e}You know you’re famous when a white woman starts crying over the lyrics of your rap song, apparently. In another one of the show’s references to the real world, “Money Bag Shawty” opens with a recorded video of a mother complaining about the profane and sexist lyrics of Paper Boi’s latest hit. “‘Baby, slide on the dick / You can do it all night / You can be my baby mama / You can't ever be my wife,’” the woman painstakingly recites, before bursting into tears. Al, Darius, and Earn take it all in stride. “Yo, that white woman crying, that was the best thing that could've happened to us, man. Their tears are powerful,” Darius chuckles. After all, any press is good press, right?

This episode sees Paper Boi’s star rising even higher, with all its baggage to boot. Al’s fellow rising rapper’s recording session pulls back the curtains on the way music is produced in the rap industry. The rapper—who does not drink or do drugs, but proceeds to rap about Hennessy and marijuana—seems already to have lost his ability to respect his employees. When the music engineer’s computer crashes, the rapper’s veiled threats reveal the intimidation faced by those behind the music. The scene, perhaps alluding to Donald Glover’s experiences as Childish Gambino, criticizes both artists’ abuse of power in an industry whose artists decry their own abuse and the hypocrisy of artists whose lyrics barely reflect their actual lives. It forces us to think about the music we listen to and what to make of the artists whose personae we buy into—personae that belie who might actually be not-so-great people. Again, Paper Boi’s facial expressions say it all. Is this what things are really like behind the scenes?

“Money Bag Shawty” also sees Earn grapple with racism from both white and black business owners. And unlike in other episodes, where the show leaves its audience to ponder the implications of its content, there is a clear message here. When Earn goes to the movie theater with Van (Zazie Beetz) and tries to pay with a 100 dollar bill, the white employee asks for a debit card instead—in addition to ID, both of which she needs to check to comply with the theater’s “new policy.” When the next customer—white, male, and armed with a gun—tries to pay with a 100 dollar bill, there is no mention of the policy. The trend follows Earn to a club where the black owner accuses Earn of having used a fake bill to pay the entrance fee. Fed up, the couple leaves to go to a strip club (fun date night, huh?), where Al teaches Earn a lesson about money. “You told me the only thing I needed to run this city was money,” Earn whines. Al corrects him: “Money is an idea, man. Look, there's a reason that a white dude dressed just like you can walk into a bank and get a loan, and you can't even spend a $100 bill, man. I mean, you need to start acting like you're better than other niggas, and then they'll start treating you better than other niggas.” It’s an obvious lesson, one that Earn should have already learned and that undermines his character development. It’s been a season and some change, and though Earn has a few hundred dollar bills in his wallet, he’s barely learned anything.

It seems “Atlanta” is turning away from the subtle toward the explicit. For a show that previously relied heavily on one’s ability to read between the lines, it’s a surprising turn that makes the show easier to follow, but that also detracts from the spirit it established in its first season.

1000-Penny Thoughts:

- So. Are we not supposed to give credence to the white woman’s complaints?

- It looks like Earn will perpetually be disrespected. I only wish he’d actually learn from it instead of being mistreated over and over again.

- It’s good to see Van again. As the only returning female actress on the show, her presence—and her consistently flawless natural hair—was sorely missed. But… where is her and Earn’s child??

- If you, too, were wondering whether the phrase “caught red-handed” was actually racist, rest easy because it turns out it’s not. The more you know.

- Did it take anyone else a while to figure out who Michael Vick is? No? Just me?

—Staff writer Mila Gauvin II can be reached at mila.gauvin@thecrimson.com.