Skip to Main Content
Let Me Put U On

Let Me Put U On: To the André 3000 cartoon I didn’t know I always wanted

Revisiting ‘Class of 3000,’ UATL video producer Keith Lovely Jr. discovers a love letter to Atlanta, hip-hop and Black culture that he can now share with his sons.
UATL producer Keith Lovely Jr. watches an episode of kids cartoon “Class of 3000” created by Outkast rapper Andre 3000 at his home in College Park on Friday, Nov. 6, 2026. (Natrice Miller for the AJC)
UATL producer Keith Lovely Jr. watches an episode of kids cartoon “Class of 3000” created by Outkast rapper Andre 3000 at his home in College Park on Friday, Nov. 6, 2026. (Natrice Miller for the AJC)
Keith Lovely Jr

Twenty years ago, I dismissed what I now believe is one of the greatest hip-hop cartoons ever made.

André 3000’s “Class of 3000” premiered on Cartoon Network on Nov. 3, 2006. I was 22, finishing my animation degree at the Savannah College of Art and Design, and excited that one of my favorite rappers had created his own television show.

Then I watched it.

Episodes of Atlanta rapper Andre 3000’s cartoon “Class of 3000” plays on a laptop at the home of UATL producer Keith Lovely Jr. in College Park on Friday, Nov. 6, 2026. (Natrice Miller for the AJC)
Episodes of Atlanta rapper Andre 3000’s cartoon “Class of 3000” plays on a laptop at the home of UATL producer Keith Lovely Jr. in College Park on Friday, Nov. 6, 2026. (Natrice Miller for the AJC)

I wanted the André of Outkast, the eccentric, boundary-pushing rapper who helped redefine Southern hip-hop. Instead, I got a whimsical children’s cartoon about a superstar musician teaching kids at an Atlanta performing arts school.

I wasn’t impressed.

Now, I’m a father of two boys, 13 and 7. And after revisiting the show, I realize just how much I missed.

Growing up in Chesapeake, Virginia, in the ’90s, I loved two things: hip-hop and cartoons. And whenever those two worlds came together, it was magic.

The greatest thing ever.

I was about 6 or 7 when Kid ’n Play and MC Hammer got their own Saturday morning cartoons. I watched every episode of “Kid ’n Play” and “Hammerman,” not realizing at the time just how special it was to see some of my favorite rappers as animated characters.

Their music was fun, and their cartoons even managed to sneak in a few life lessons.

Lovely watches an episode of Atlanta rapper Andre 3000’s cartoon “Class of 3000” with his son Carsen, 7. "André managed to work those messages into episodes that were funny, imaginative and entertaining," he says. (Natrice Miller for the AJC)
Lovely watches an episode of Atlanta rapper Andre 3000’s cartoon “Class of 3000” with his son Carsen, 7. "André managed to work those messages into episodes that were funny, imaginative and entertaining," he says. (Natrice Miller for the AJC)

Looking back, those shows weren’t exactly masterpieces. The animation wasn’t always great, and neither were the stories. But I loved them because I loved hip-hop, I loved cartoons and, maybe most importantly, I loved seeing Black characters who looked like me.

There weren’t nearly enough of them.

I loved cartoons so much that I started drawing my own characters, usually giving them a little hip-hop style. I still do.

What began as a childhood obsession eventually became my career.

By the time “Class of 3000” came along, I thought I’d outgrown those Saturday morning cartoons, the kind I’d once enjoyed over a bowl of cereal.

I was watching “The Boondocks,” which was edgy, funny and more in line with the person I thought I was becoming.

So I watched a few episodes of “Class of 3000,” thought they were OK and moved on.

Rediscovering André’s Atlanta

Recently, while looking for nostalgic subjects to cover for UATL, I came across “Class of 3000” again.

With its anniversary approaching, I decided to give it another chance.

Man, was I wrong about this show.

The stories were thoughtful, the animation was beautiful and the music was incredible.

What really blew me away was Atlanta.

I’ve lived here for the last 18 years, and watching “Class of 3000” now feels completely different from watching it as a college student in Savannah.

Back then, I knew Outkast, but I didn’t know much about the city, its neighborhoods or the culture that shaped André into the artist he became.

André 3000 attends the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute benefit gala celebrating the opening of the "Superfine: Tailoring Black Style" exhibition on Monday, May 5, 2025, in New York. (Evan Agostini/Invision/AP)
André 3000 attends the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute benefit gala celebrating the opening of the "Superfine: Tailoring Black Style" exhibition on Monday, May 5, 2025, in New York. (Evan Agostini/Invision/AP)

Now I do. And I can see just how much love André poured into this cartoon. Atlanta isn’t just the setting. It’s part of what makes the show special.

Sunny Bridges, the character André voices, is a superstar musician who gets tired of the music industry and walks away from it all. He returns to his old neighborhood and becomes a music teacher at Westley School of the Performing Arts, the same school he attended as a kid.

Think about that. One of the biggest musicians in the world created a cartoon about a superstar who decides that giving back to his community means more than fame.

Watching it today, I can’t help but see some of André’s own story in Sunny. Both followed their own paths, even when the world expected something different.

And then there’s the music.

André created original songs for every episode, and these weren’t just little tunes thrown into a cartoon to keep kids entertained. They were funky. Really funky.

Songs from the first season were released as “Class of 3000: Music Volume One” in July 2007. They still hold up.

But what surprised me even more were the stories.

There are stories about loving your home, remembering where you came from and staying true to yourself.

And André managed to work those messages into episodes that were funny, imaginative and entertaining.

Take “The Devil and Li’l D,” for example.

Li’l D signs a record deal and ends up having to break the contract to save his soul.

That’s a pretty heavy subject for a children’s cartoon. But it’s also a clever way to introduce kids to ideas about temptation, greed and the dangers of chasing fame at any cost.

Maybe I needed to become a father to really understand it.

My boys love art and music, just like I did growing up. Now I’m the one looking for shows that can feed those interests while giving them something meaningful to take away.

Right on time

Since introducing my boys to “Class of 3000,” the music has become something we enjoy together on car rides.

Both of my sons were born in Atlanta. This is their home. And there’s something powerful about being able to share a cartoon that celebrates where they’re from, created by one of the most important artists their city has ever produced.

Lovely watches an episode of “Class of 3000” with his sons Carsen, 7, and Carter,13, at his home in College Park. (Natrice Miller for the AJC)
Lovely watches an episode of “Class of 3000” with his sons Carsen, 7, and Carter,13, at his home in College Park. (Natrice Miller for the AJC)

And the characters look like them.

That’s the part that really gets me.

As a kid growing up in Virginia, that’s what I always wanted. Cartoons that reflected my culture, my music and people who looked like me.

André 3000 gave us all of that with “Class of 3000.”