Let’s Talk About “6 7”

Rod Wave Elite is a popular high school basketball squad that bounces around the country playing exhibition games to crowds of rabid teens and internet celebrities. They’re run by a former college hooper turned influencer, Cam Wilder, and are named after the North Star of Southern pain rap, though the Floridian doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the team. If you pay any attention to college basketball recruiting or potential NBA prospects, then the team, a mix of five- and four-star athletes and camera-ready teenagers, probably pops up in your TikTok feed. The deal between the organization and the players seems to be that Rod Wave Elite will turn you into a character in its situational comedy internet circus—The Washington Post described them as “The Harlem Globetrotters for people who are very online”—and, in turn, you will get more followers and more brand deals. It’s basketball as a gateway to content creation.

One of the current stars of the team is Taylen “TK” Kinney, the 17th-best recruit in his class, according to ESPN, and a Kansas commit. He might be the most popular high school basketball player in the country because of a meme. In December, as part of a social media content dump, he was asked to rate a Starbucks drink. Cracking up, he responded, “6-7,” quoting a random bar from “Doot Doot,” a ghoulish Skrilla song that was then only a few weeks old.

The meaninglessness made Kinney’s use of the phrase reach a sort of ultra-virality that has been steadily growing all year. The fallout has been what you’d expect in 2025: Kinney (now called “Mr. 6 7” by Instagram pages) profiting off the attention with a brand of canned water called “6 7 Water,” the birth of a few sketchy microinfluencers (including a shaggy-haired white teen called the “6 7 Kid” who is currently using his fame to run a crypto scheme), and countless legacy media explainers of the meme aimed at parents worried about their kids who won’t stop shouting the phrase. The only thing that really surprises me about the hoopla is that it has turned Skrilla, a Philly drill weirdo who raps like a possessed clown and makes some of the darkest rap music out right now, into a minor celebrity and borderline cartoon character.