When a fan recently published on X“bbno$ is my favorite rapper, why is he so rude to fake artists? 🥺🥺,” the Canadian musician did not give a gentle explanation. Instead he shot back with a simple and unequivocal answer: “Fuck AI.”
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It's the kind of raw sincerity that characterizes bbno$ (pronounced “baby, no money”) – viral rapper known for his absurdist humor like his meticulous approach to independent creativity. But behind the all-caps expletives lies a clear philosophy: In an age when algorithms can create songs, images and videos faster than any human hand, he prefers to bet on people.
This choice is on full display in his recent video for “ADD,” a hyper-colorful kinetic collage created entirely from fan animation. Instead of submitting his work to a studio or loading clues into generative software, bbno$ enlisted more than 20 independent artists, many of whom had already created his fan art online, to bring the visual to life. The result is a whirlwind of different animation styles stitched together, each segment a little love letter from one creator to another.
“There are two things about this,” he told Mashable at TwitchCon 2025, the day he released his self-titled ninth studio album. “First of all, when people spend their entire lives being successful at something, it sucks when you can push a button and do something more impressive. So I just wanted to give back to the community that showed me so much love.”
Another reason is even simpler: bbno$ feels better supporting people and human-made art. “It kind of makes me feel good when I support other artists because I’m an artist too,” he explains. “I remember times when I wasn't making money – it's such an exciting feeling when you finally can. So if I can help other artists get that, I want to do it.”
The “ADD” project took six months to complete, a herculean effort for a three-minute song. But the result was both a visual spectacle and a creative statement: proof that the collaboration of 23 different minds, each bringing their own quirks and artistic perspectives, can create something that no machine can replicate.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get another visually stimulating content like this again,” he admits. “Because it was 20 different people, twenty different minds.”
Such enthusiasm has long been part of bbno$'s appeal. His catalog, which includes goofy hits like Y2K's “Lalala” and other experimental cuts, thrives on a sense of human chaos that algorithms can't imitate. Even as he leans toward internet virality, there's an impulse of self-awareness. He gets the joke, but he also takes this craft very seriously.
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His mistrust of AI is rooted less in fear of change than in empathy for working artists. In an era when tech companies are pouring billions into artificial intelligence tools for music and video, and when artists' works are destroyed To train these systems, bbno$ thinks about the people behind the art.
“Large organizations are starting to use AI and software to put people out of jobs,” he says. “One of my best friends works at Amazon, and he said, ‘I have a call from India. “I represent something that will unfortunately take a lot of people's jobs.” He knows it sucks, but he also needs to make a living. This is where things take off. I'm just trying to contribute as much as I can.”
This isn't a crusade against technology—after all, bbno$ built his career on the Internet—but rather an attempt to preserve a kind of creative integrity that has become increasingly vulnerable. Today art is data and he is trying to keep the human part alive. “To keep people moving, to keep the train on the other side,” he says, “you have to fund them. This is the only way.”
There's also a philosophical point here: bbno$ has always thrived on collaboration. Its early success came through meme-based partnerships with producers like Y2K and the Diamond Pistols, and more recently its output has grown to nearly weekly releases drawing on a global network of creators, artists, editors and fans. His entire career is an example of the creative possibilities of the digital age, when art is created by people, not software.
“I’ve never used a lot of effects in my videos,” he says. “If I do it, it should be something that took a year to create, not just something you plug in.” This ethos goes beyond the visuals; it's how he approaches songwriting, content creation, and even his trademark humor. Everything seems a little rough around the edges, but that's what makes it human.
The irony, of course, is that AI can easily imitate the more superficial quirks and unusual flow of bbno$, but it can't replicate the sincerity that drives them. For him, creativity is caring.
On YouTube, comments under “ADD” read like a digital roll call of collaboration. Fans and animators marked their timestamps, celebrating each other's work. “I animated 0:00–0:09! Everyone did an amazing job.
On Channel X, an animator named Kenzie shared a clip of bbno$. commissioning them for the project after they “were unemployed in the animation industry for two years due to AI.” The post has since received more than 350,000 likes, a testament to how deeply the gesture resonated.
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For a video that could have been created using a single generative model, “ADD” instead became a community showcase. It is the messy, vibrant collaboration that only humans are capable of.
“I just wanted to give it credit,” he repeats. “It really is.”
