Sy Ari Da Kid takes us track-by-track through his powerful and unflinchingly honest new album, ‘The Last Shadow in the Shade,’ in a candid conversation about identity and independence, resilience, rapping, and raw storytelling. The final chapter in a deeply personal and hard-hitting trilogy, it’s both a reckoning and a mission statement – a vivid portrait of struggle, strength, and staying true to yourself in an industry and a world that rarely rewards it.
‘The Last Shadow in the Shade’ – Sy Ari Da Kid
Sy Ari Da Kid doesn’t need a spotlight to know who he is – and he’s never waited around for one.
Over the past few years, the Bronx-born, Atlanta-based artist has quietly built a legacy on independence, authenticity, and storytelling. The Last Shadow in the Shade isn’t just the culmination of a three-part series – it’s a personal and artistic declaration. A self-assured finale that finds Sy Ari reflecting on where he’s been, what he’s survived, and why he continues to stand tall when so many fade out.
Released April 4th, 2025 via No I in Team Recors / Cinq Music Group, The Last Shadow in the Shade (Deluxe) is the third and final chapter in Sy Ari Da Kid’s Shadow in the Shade trilogy – a body of work born from lived experience and fueled by conviction.
“The whole basis of that concept to me is – there’s a lot of people that are talented, and not even just in music, but in anything,” he tells Atwood Magazine. “You might have somebody who doesn’t necessarily have the spotlight on them – like, they’re in the shadows. They’re ducked off. Maybe because they just want to be creative and the industry is too much. Maybe because they haven’t had the opportunity. Maybe because they don’t want to be somebody that they’re not for the industry.”
“But people kind of know. If you know, you know – they’re just as talented as the elite people. That’s what The Shadow in the Shade is about. It’s about the stories behind why certain people remain in the shade. It doesn’t mean they don’t exist – it just means there’s not a light on them. Sometimes you see the person that’s in the light, but behind them, there’s a shadow. And that shadow might be the one influencing their style. We might be working with the people everybody thinks are elite. We might be shaping the culture – and that happens all the time.”
“This album is about my life – things I’m going through with my friends, family, the industry, where I come from, the culture. And it’s a trilogy, the whole series. I just wanted to wrap it up and make it like a classic – something that, later on, people can go back to and really hear these stories and appreciate it for what it is. I think Shadow in the Shade 1, 2, and 3 – not that people didn’t appreciate them now – but I think when people hear them in their totality, it’s going to hit different. It’s like when Jay-Z dropped Reasonable Doubt. When it came out, it didn’t really hit mainstream-wise. It wasn’t a big project on the radio – but it was personal. He was teaching and telling his story. I think this series is kind of equivalent to that.”
The Last Shadow in the Shade arrives three long years (and several more Sy Ari LPs) after 2022’s The Shadow in the Shade and its immediate sequel, The Shadow in the Shade 2 – two albums that set a high bar for Sy Ari Da Kid both lyrically and conceptually. Across all three records, he’s used the shadow as metaphor and mirror: A symbol for the overlooked, the underestimated, and the ones who carry more than they show. These albums aren’t just personal documents – they’re full-bodied reckonings with identity, pride, pain, and purpose.
“One of my main goals with this whole trilogy was to spar with elite artists,” he explains. “Whether they were already legends or still coming up like me. You see Cyhi The Prynce is on a couple of the projects, you see Jadakiss, Benny the Butcher’s on two of them, you got Raekwon, T.I., Big K.R.I.T., Lloyd Banks, Ransom… I really wanted to test myself against people I think are super elite with the pen.”
“But more than that, I wanted to be personal. I wanted to be transparent with my story. You hear that in a record like ‘Out on Bond’ – that was literally me coming out of my situation and getting right in the booth. For me, it was about making the best out of a bad situation. In hip-hop, there’s a fine line – when you tell your story, people who haven’t been through it might think you’re glorifying it. But I’m not glorifying the fact that I got locked up. I’m saying, yeah, I made a mistake trying to feed my family – but I was also prepared. I had lawyer money. And a lot of young people coming up in the hood don’t have that. Most of us don’t want to be in the streets. We’re not trying to do illegal stuff – but we make a few mistakes, and those mistakes come with consequences. So I’m saying, if you’re going to talk about getting money, make sure you have enough put away for a good lawyer.”
“I’m breaking it down – what happens before you even get to real prison or jail. The bad food. The energy. The phone calls. The people you don’t want to talk to. It’s uncomfortable. I’m painting those pictures so the next person hears it and says, ‘I don’t want to go through that.’ Maybe they decide to go another route. Because I don’t like how hip-hop sometimes glamorizes that stuff. I don’t want to be the guy saying, ‘I’m Big Meech’ or playing the big gangster role. That’s not me. I’d rather tell the story of the regular dude just trying to figure it out. I never really followed gang culture. I don’t like all that gangbanging stuff. And I say that in the music – I address why I don’t think it’s cool, why I think you should be your own leader. But if you’re going to be your own leader – good or bad – you’ve got to be prepared for the consequences that come with that.”
Interestingly, The Shadow in the Shade wasn’t intended to be the start of a trilogy.
At the time, Sy Ari was focused on R&B – a space that was working well for him commercially – and had no immediate plans to return to rap. But after collaborating with Jadakiss, who told him, “You’re one of us. You come from our cloth,” and receiving similar co-signs from Benny the Butcher, he felt a responsibility to honor his hip-hop roots. “Hearing that shifted everything,” he recalls. “I felt like, regardless of what I was making financially, I needed to execute something for the culture – for where I come from. I’m from the Bronx – the birthplace of hip-hop – so I had to make sure I did something that honored that.”
As a Bronx native, it became a mission: To create something for the culture. The debut Shadow album was the result. When it resonated with fans, Sy Ari followed it up with a sequel – and after even more love from listeners, he knew he had to finish the series with a third and final volume.
“I don’t think I’ve ever done that with any of my other projects,” he muses, “but it came from how I felt in the moment – and from the fans pushing me to keep going.”
By the time it came to crafting the finale, Sy Ari wasn’t chasing a concept – he was living it. Life itself shaped the direction of The Last Shadow in the Shade, from the first beat to the last verse. “How I feel is, if you let a year pass and I go through some things, it’s over,” he says. “That’s all I need. You give me six months to a year to live life? If God allows me to wake up in the morning, the album’s coming out. It’s that simple. If I’m alive, living out these days, I’m picking up stories. I’m going through things that spark something.”
He continues, “Maybe I lost a family member. Maybe I’m beefing with my cousin. Maybe a friend I loaned money to didn’t pay me back, and now we don’t even speak – that’s a whole song right there. Maybe one of my homies got locked up – that’s what happened with ‘Northside Vs. Everybody.’ My homie Bazell got locked up and I was screaming ‘Free Bazell,’ so that became one of the first things I said on the album. So like I said – if I’m living, the stories are coming. The album’s coming. It’s always going to be real, because it’s what I’m going through.”
For Sy Ari Da Kid, The Last Shadow in the Shade isn’t about topping past work or chasing a “best project” narrative – it’s about growth, discipline, and staying sharp.
His goal isn’t to outdo himself each time, but to remain consistent and intentional: Always climbing, always storytelling, and always giving game for those willing to listen. “It’s about continuing to evolve, continuing to tell my story, and giving game along the way,” he says. “Like, ‘Hey, here’s how I marketed this album. Here’s how I created this independently.’ That’s the main goal for me.”
At this point in his career, legacy matters – and Sy Ari wants his to look something like a LeBron James stat sheet. “Can you follow my story across time? Can I remain consistent – and build a legacy like a LeBron James-type career?” he asks. The stats speak for themselves. “‘Man, Sy’s been doing this for so long… but he’s still elite.’ Still telling stories. Still evolving. That’s my main goal, project to project.”
Sy candidly calls The Last Shadow in the Shade ‘transparent as hell.’
“It doesn’t get more in-depth – to the core of a person and what he’s going through – than this, man,” he smiles. “I’m not being biased. I’m not comparing skill-wise or number-wise. But as far as somebody being this honest in hip-hop right now? You won’t hear it. You don’t hear it. I think I did that.”
As the trilogy’s closer, The Last Shadow in the Shade carries a title that feels both definitive and deeply personal. When asked what it means to be the last shadow in the shade, Sy Ari doesn’t hesitate:
“Keep in mind, that title also goes into me because I always feel like I’m usually the last one standing. Like, I’m going to stay on this independent grind. A lot of people that claim independent, but they’re still kind of trying to tippy-toe into the majors. I’m not; I’m going to be the last one standing here every single time. The Last Shadow in the Shade is really about the independence. The independence of independent artists who don’t have a big spotlight on them, period. You have to live with that understanding, and that’s a lot of what The Last Shadow in the Shade is really about. That’s why you don’t have the spotlight, because you’re not under that major umbrella that a lot of people go through when they’re frustrated and go through these dark times in the industry.”
Highlights abound on the hour-long journey from “Conspiracy Theory” to “Moral Code.” The Last Shadow in the Shade doesn’t just showcase Sy Ari Da Kid’s pen – it’s a masterclass in perspective, reflection, and emotional depth. From the hard truths of “Out on Bond” to the neighborhood nostalgia of “A Block Away from the Corner Store,” the defiant realism of “The Outsiders,” and the heavy generational introspection of “Do Black Men Need Therapy,” this record hits on every level.
“‘Do Black Men Need Therapy’ – I did that song for me,” Sy Ari shares. “For me and my family and anybody else going through those things. I think that’s the one for me.”
When asked if it’s the most personal song he’s ever made, he doesn’t hesitate. “I’m going to say that I ever made,” he says, “but it’s up there. And on this record, hands down, yes. You got to think – my father’s talking on it, and he’s also in the music video. I’ll have that in my records for me for the rest of my life. My father is in the music video – that means more to me than anything. Any legend, any icon. My father’s in the video…”
That moment – visually and sonically – is irreplaceable. And it didn’t come easily. “My father’s a very private… he’s a man’s man,” Sy explains. “He could build a house, he could do plumbing, he’s a mechanic, he could fix computers – backyard work, cutting down trees. But he’s also always been creative. He can draw, he can write poems. He just never really put any of that out to the public.”
Getting him into the video wasn’t about casting a role – it was about honoring a lifelong bond. “I asked him, I said, ‘Dad, I want to get you and my son in the video. I want you to be my therapist in the video. I don’t want a therapist – you’re actually the person that talked to me my entire life and was my therapy. You gave me game and helped me get through things. I want you to play that role.’” His father didn’t flinch. “‘I’m down. What do you need me to do? Where do you need me to be? What do you need me to wear?’ And he nailed it,” Sy says. “That meant a lot to me, man. I’m not gonna lie. I think I’ll watch it later on in life and be like, man, that really meant a lot.”
That honesty extends to the very first line of the song, which Sy Ari says is his favorite on the album: “My uncle used to move drugs in the cold, but he also said he used as much drugs as he sold.” For him, that lyric hits harder than any punchline or bar. “That line is so important because everybody’s always talking about their big homie or somebody in their family being this huge drug lord – but the reality is, a lot of people back then didn’t have big loads,” he explains. “They had just enough to pay rent – and enough to use. And a lot of them were doing the drugs themselves.”
He continues, “That’s not something people usually admit. They’ll say, ‘Oh, my auntie was a fiend,’ or ‘she used to get high,’ but they don’t talk about how sometimes the hustler is the abuser. Sometimes the hustler is the junkie. I’m not just putting my uncle’s business out there – he actually wrote a book before he passed, where he talked about how he used the same drugs he sold. That’s the line that means the most to me. It’s not the wittiest or the most clever – but it’s the most honest. And it’s something most people don’t have the courage to say.”
The Last Shadow in the Shade isn’t just the final installment in a trilogy – it’s a blueprint, a mirror, and a lifeline.
It’s Sy Ari Da Kid at his most self-assured and most vulnerable, speaking not just to where he’s been, but to the people walking through the same shadows now. Whether confronting generational trauma, celebrating survival, or urging self-ownership, Sy’s message cuts through with unflinching honesty – and undeniable purpose.
“Be okay with going through the things you’re going through. Keep your foot on the gas. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. You won’t be in the shade forever. It’s okay to struggle. We all go through things. And I think part of what I was doing with this album – talking about all these dark things – was just reminding people: It’s going to be all right. You’re not cursed. You’re not the only one. There’s people out here going through similar stuff – walking through it right alongside you.”
“And for the artists listening – stay independent. Learn the business. Own your rights, own your masters… but also know what to do with your masters. Don’t just hold on to them – understand how to move with them. Keep some lawyer money. Not just for legal trouble, but for good business. I feel like I exude all of that throughout the whole album.”
Sy Ari Da Kid is nothing if not prolific.
Just a few months after dropping The Last Shadow in the Shade, he returned with My Next Ex, a full-length R&B album produced entirely by his longtime collaborator Vntg Jag. Raw, reflective, and intensely personal, the project has already resonated deeply with fans, showing up on various charts. “This album is so personal,” he says. “It’s only been a few days, but when you go listen to it, you’re going to see what I mean. The stories… it gets very real. I’m going to keep letting the people decide what they like from it.”
Still, Sy Ari doesn’t see much daylight between his two sides – rapper and R&B singer. “Honestly, the only difference to me is the cadence and the subject matter. That’s really it,” he explains. “The beat selection changes, sure – but I’m still telling stories. I’m a storyteller. That’s what I do.” Whether flipping 50 Cent’s “Many Men” into “Many Women” or unpacking betrayal and heartbreak, the method is the same: Live it, process it, write it down.
“When it comes to the art, I’m focused on being transparent and sharp with the pen – no matter what kind of record it is,” he notes. “My biggest challenge was never about the writing – it was about feeling just as confident with melodies as I do when I rap. I’m not Brian McKnight, I’m not Usher Raymond – so it was about finding the comfort in my voice. The goal was always to get to a place where I could be considered elite on both sides – the rap and the melodies. That’s what I’ve been working toward.”
That fluidity is part of what enables him to release multiple albums in a single year – something that would be near impossible under a major label. “A label would have told me, hell no. ‘We’re marketing this. We’re waiting on this.’ Nah – I’m putting this stuff out. I’m so active, and think about it: The Last Shadow in the Shade and the album I just put out? That’s old music.”
Despite the pace, Sy Ari doesn’t live in the studio 24/7 – but when he locks in, he locks in. “My process now is different. I’ll wait, get patient, get back fresh. I rest my mind,” he shares. “Creating is just like cardio – it’s mental. Sometimes you’ve got to give your mind some rest.”
Still, the bars never stop coming. He’s jotting down lines and song ideas on a daily basis. “My notes? It’s crazy. If somebody saw my notes, they could probably create a project themselves,” he laughs.
“I’ve got one note that says ‘bars unused,’ and another just called ‘ideas.’ That one’s scary. Could be a song title, a podcast concept… Maybe I just want to discuss simple stuff like, hey, Black people don’t put hot sauce in the refrigerator, even though it says keep it in the refrigerator. We still leave it out in the cabinet, right? And we wonder why our stomach hurts all year, right? That’s an idea to discuss something. And those ideas never stop running. I’m literally just living life and going through stuff – my notes are insane. I probably could scroll for hours straight.”
As much as Sy Ari Da Kid is focused on his own legacy, he’s also tuned in to what’s happening around him – and eager to uplift the voices he believes in.
When asked who he’s listening to right now, he doesn’t hesitate to give props.
“On the hip-hop side, I’m going to say Benny the Butcher is probably my most favorite – consistent, just project dropping, bars, rapping, hip-hop,” he says. “Still Lloyd Banks. He’s dropping consistently under the radar. Jadakiss is still killing a lot of features.”
On the R&B side, he highlights Jastin Martin – a recent Def Jam signee out of Houston – and Joe Trufant, a former Ty Dolla $ign artist now moving independently. “I think Joe Trufant is going to be huge,” he says. “Not to compare him to anybody, but I think he’s going to be that cool White dude that has a really good voice – like a Post Malone. But he’s a little bit more hip, I think.”
Both artists, he adds, have a sound that’s “some of the most consistent music sonically-wise I’ve ever heard.” And that, coming from someone with Sy Ari’s catalog, means a lot.
In the booth and beyond it, Sy Ari Da Kid stays locked in – writing, thinking, living, and letting the music come when it’s ready.
But no matter how much ground he covers or how many records he releases, The Last Shadow in the Shade holds a distinct kind of weight in his catalog.
It’s more than just a mission statement – it’s a declaration. In bar after bar, Sy Ari Da Kid speaks his truth without compromise, honoring the people who made him, the culture that shaped him, and the independence that continues to define him. Through every story told and every shadow acknowledged, this record doesn’t just complete a trilogy – it cements a legacy.
Experience the full record via our below stream, and peek inside Sy Ari Da Kid’s The Last Shadow in the Shade with Atwood Magazine as he goes track-by-track through the music and lyrics of his powerful trilogy finale!
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:: stream/purchase The Last Shadow in the Shade here ::
:: connect with Sy Ari da Kid here ::
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‘The Last Shadow in the Shade’ – Sy Ari Da Kid
:: Inside The Last Shadow in the Shade ::
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Conspiracy Theory
“Conspiracy Theory” was inspired by my homie June. He’s always so deep – like, “This person died because they said this,” or “They got taken out because of that.” And I hear him, I do. That’s why I say on there, “If you ever got that close to the information, they’ll execute you.” That whole song is really a conversation I had with him. He was saying, “All of this happened because of this,” and I was like, “Yo, I feel you, but we’ve got real things happening in our regular lives. We can’t get too lost in stuff we can’t prove with solid evidence.”
There’s also a skit in there – what Freddie Fox said: “Don’t let people paint pictures of you that you didn’t even pose for.” That hit me. Don’t let outside things define you, especially things you can’t control. This album’s not about deep dives into what the government did or what happened in Africa 30 years ago. I’m not saying I don’t care – it’s just that we’ll never really know, because history gets rewritten. People change the narrative to shape the future. That’s what the song is really about. I’m not here to sell you a conspiracy theory. I’m not trying to go that deep – I’m not trying to get taken out. I’m here to talk about what I’ve been through, what my people go through every day. That’s what ‘The Last Shadow in the Shade’ is about. So with this track, I’m like, let’s get this “conspiracy theory” stuff out the way. I’m not the backpack rapper breaking down what happened in the 1700s. You don’t know, I don’t know – and that’s not what I’m here to do.
Rebellion
That song, honestly – it started with a beat a friend of mine had. He ended up passing it to me because he thought I’d do it more justice. I laid down the first verse and the hook, and back then it was actually called “The Eye of the Beholder.” At the same time, Benny the Butcher was recording nearby – like 15 minutes away. My guy Harlem called me, linked us up again, and we cut that record that night. After that, I started sending the track around. I sent it to Fabolous, I sent it to Cyhi – I knew I wanted someone else on that third verse. Cyhi The Prynce hit me like, “I gotta get on this.” I hadn’t worked with Benny before either, so it was fresh all around. And I think we all did our thing. We each brought our own story – Cyhi got real specific with his, and he walked us through it in a way that was elite. Benny killed it too. To me, it felt like three artists sparring – pushing each other, knowing we’re some of the best at what we do.
Quote Unquote (Remix)
Yeah – “Quote Unquote,” the remix – shout out to KXNG Crooked, Nick Grant, and Freeway. That’s another example of me putting artists together who haven’t collaborated before – some of the legends, some of the new legends. Shout out to my guy Stoic who made the beat. That record’s special to me. I love that song.
On “Quote Unquote,” I’m really just rapping – telling my truth. It’s not super story-driven, but I’m in that zone. What stood out to me most was the beat – it reminded me of something Just Blaze would’ve made during the Roc-A-Fella days. So my first thought was, I gotta send this to Freeway. And what’s wild is, when I did, he sent back a voice memo of him freestyling to it – the beat playing in the background, him going off. It wasn’t his actual verse, just a rough take, but I still have that memo saved. I might use it for something else down the line. My first goal was for me and Freeway to do the record. Then I sent it out to Nick Grant, and it eventually turned into a track with KXNG Crooked too.
Do Black Men Need Therapy
I don’t usually call a song my favorite – but this one is the most personal to me. It’s me telling a story. You hear people say, “Black men need therapy” all the time, so I wanted to ask that question – but also explain why. I’m talking about what my family went through, starting with my father. The story begins with him speaking. I never met either of my grandfathers – and that already shows something was missing. My father barely got love or hugs from his dad. And a kid needs that. Even from a man who’s extremely masculine, you still need to feel loved. His father didn’t say “I love you,” didn’t hug him. He was there, but he was cold. That affected my dad, and in turn, he was super tough on me. But we started getting close once he met my mom. That was a turning point. I say in the song: “My father was a man of God – that’s how he ran into my moms. Then she showed him how to love.” He was damaged in the heart, but that’s what changed him.
To me, that’s the key. People say Black men need therapy – and I’m not disagreeing – but for my father, what really helped was his faith and a good Black woman. That’s what healed him, even though he never got professional help. My brother ended up a lot like him – tough, guarded. I was trying to explain how this happens. A lot of men struggle to admit what they’re going through. We’re taught to provide, protect, and never show weakness. Nobody checks on us, and we don’t admit when we’re not okay. We get that from the men before us – the ones who were either too hard or not there at all. On the second verse, I shift to telling other people’s stories – the kid who was molested, the one whose dad was locked up, the mom raising him alone. The boy who can’t hug his homies without someone saying something. There’s so much in our community that tells us we have to be seen as tough.
So now, we grow up feeling like we have to prove we’re men – overcompensating. Like, “Who are you talking to?” “You disrespecting me?” It’s performative. We crash out, trying to prove we’re not soft. We’d rather look like Frank Lucas than be the kid doing his homework. And it all has to be seen – with the phone out, for the crowd. It’s ignorant, but it’s real. I just wanted to open up about that – to say, “Yeah, these things did bother me.” That’s where I’m coming from with this song.
A Block Away from the Corner Store
That song is all nostalgia. “This right here smell like the broth and a couple noodles.” That smell was everywhere – in corner stores, in homes in the hood. That little 15-cent cup of noodles might’ve been cheap, but it meant everything to us growing up. To me, the idea of being a block away from the corner store is key. That’s where people were outside – not far from home, not far from the store. And within that one block, you could see everything – women, elders, homeless people, folks dealing with addiction, drug deals, crime, corrupt cops, regular police, entrepreneurs, people just hanging out. Someone getting off work stopping to talk to their homies. It was always active.
The title speaks for itself – and that’s exactly what I showed in the video. I’m a block away, I walk across the street, buy something, talk to a girl, come back to the steps. My homie’s arguing with his baby moms. That’s just real life. Sometimes I like bringing it back to that – not some deep story, just a moment. Just a scene. Because if you come from where I come from, you know exactly how many times you were outside – a block away from the corner store.
Out on Bond
“Out on Bond” came straight from real life. I got out, called my mom, and she got me out of there. It came from a situation I went through, and on the record, I break down what I experienced inside – what I saw, what I learned – and what had to happen once I got out. I had to get a lawyer. I had to be able to pay that lawyer on time. Because if you’re trying to avoid court dates or trying to get out while on probation, you need to be prepared. If not, you’re sitting down. It’s really a message to young dudes – you’re going to make mistakes, and that’s part of learning. But you’ve got to be ready. No excuses. “Out on Bond” isn’t about glorifying anything – it’s about telling the truth. This is what can happen, and this is how you handle it. Be smart, stay ready.
The Unknown
“The Unknown” ended up being a lot of people’s favorite – and I get it. There’s something about the feeling of that song. It made me feel like I was just walking, reflecting, moving through life. The whole track is about what people don’t see. It’s me saying, “You don’t know what I went through to get here.” A lot of us come from situations people couldn’t imagine.
I used to save change just to ride the MARTA bus. I used to steal gas for my father’s truck – back when gas stations let you pump first and pay after. We’d cover our plates, take what we could, and dip. I’m not proud of it, but those were survival moments. There were times my parents didn’t have money for gas, but if I used the car, I wanted to bring it back the way I got it – or better. Sometimes I’d get it on E and bring it back full. They didn’t know I had to take that gas, but I did what I had to do.
And it wasn’t just to run the streets. I was trying to move with purpose – to network, to get my music heard, to put myself out there. I was working. So yeah, I had to make some tough choices, but I was using that fuel for something real.
The Northside Vs Everybody
“Northside Vs. Everybody” – that’s me repping my side of town. I’m from the Bronx originally, but in Atlanta, I rep the Northside. I feel like it’s the most slept-on part of the city. Some people don’t claim it because it doesn’t have as many housing projects or as much Section 8 living as other areas – even though it still has some of that. But if you know, you know. This was just me standing up for my side, showing love and pride. At the time, the Northside felt divided – people weren’t coming together. So I went in and named a lot of the legends from our area. I even shouted out someone who’s currently locked up. It was about giving props and trying to spark unity. We actually shot the video at Hurt Road Park – legendary spot. That’s where people used to hoop, fight, hang out – all of that. I did the mic drop performance from the block right there. The song itself is simple – it’s not trying to be anything fancy. But the energy? You can feel it. That’s what makes it special.
Outside in Philly With Freeway & Gillie (Skit)
You know what’s funny – I didn’t even have to do anything special for that skit. We shot the video for another song I did in Philly, and when I pulled up, Freeway and Gillie came out and walked me through the city. Gillie bought us cheesesteaks from Ishkabibble’s – I tried to pay, and he was like, “Nah, nephew, don’t embarrass me,” and pulled his card out. That moment was priceless.
They were both outside with me. Gillie was on the phone talking to someone about a serious situation, and Freeway was over there rapping. I was in the back telling my son, “This is that real outside stuff.” We were all just there – everyone doing their own thing, but in the same space. The audio in that skit? No added sound effects. That was straight from the camera. There’s a full video for it too. I always talk about being outside – and this was one of those moments. People don’t always get it, but these outside moments matter. They need to be documented. I didn’t just do a song with Freeway – I was really outside in Philly with him and Gillie. That’s the sound of the streets. The cars, the wind, the conversations – it doesn’t get more real than that.
Awakened Dreams
“Awakened Dreams” is one of the most personal songs on the album. The first line I say – “I had a dream that Dunk was alive” – is actually the last line I wrote. That whole song came from real dreams, daydreams, and things that felt so unreal in life, I wished they were dreams. It’s about those moments where you can’t believe something actually happened. Like losing Dunk – someone I was with every day. It didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream I should’ve woken up from. I think we all experience awakened dreams. Maybe someone who used to be around all the time is suddenly gone, and it just doesn’t feel right. Or maybe you reach a goal you’ve worked toward for so long, and when it finally happens, it feels surreal – like a dream come true. A miracle. That’s what I wanted to capture – that space between dreaming and reality. Sometimes you live through déjà vu. Sometimes you live through a nightmare. And that’s what “Awakened Dreams” is for me.
Reminiscent
Clear as day – “Reminiscent” is about nostalgia. I’m talking about real memories from my childhood and my come-up. There’s a line in the second verse – and don’t quote me word for word, I don’t always remember my own lyrics like that – but I say something like: “What you know about a bowl of cereal with the milk spoiled? Mom checked the expiration date, and even though it say it’s late, she smell it one time, then hand it to me and say it’s safe.” That ghetto conglomerate level, the dominance; real Black mom stuff. We didn’t always have groceries like that. The milk might be two days past the date, but if it didn’t smell bad? She’d still use it. Might even bake cornbread with it. That’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about – moments that are deeply rooted in how we grew up.
NU Jerzey Twork is on there too. His verse takes it in a different direction – he’s talking about how he grew up gangbanging, and how he doesn’t want that for his own child. He doesn’t want his kid reminiscing on the same kind of childhood he had. That’s what makes the song powerful – it’s both of us reflecting. I’m remembering things that made me who I am, and he’s saying, “I want better for mine.” Like he says, “I don’t want you to be like NBA YoungBoy – I want you to be like Bronny James.” That’s what we were getting at. That record was dope.
Institutionalized
“Institutionalized” ties into the themes running throughout the project. There’s that old phrase – you can take me out the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of me. That’s what this song is about. I made it out, but there’s still a part of me that wants to go back – whether it’s for the food, the energy, the people, or just the culture. Even now, living in a peaceful neighborhood with my family – HOA, gated community, all of that – I looked up and realized I went back to the hood 17 times this year. That’s what I mean by being institutionalized. Sometimes you’re going for a reason – giving back, checking on family, grabbing something to eat. Other times, you’re just pulled there, like you need to hit reset and reconnect with where you came from.
I took my son back to the Bronx – not to throw him into the projects, but to show him where I came from. Where his grandparents came from. And also, to get my favorite food. We’ll grab deli sandwiches on 158, or hit Giovanni’s on Grand Concourse, a few blocks from Yankee Stadium, and get a slice. That smell in the building? No pizza place in Georgia matches it. I don’t care what city you’re in – if it says New York-style pizza but it’s not in New York, it’s not the same. That connection – that pull to return to what’s familiar – that’s institutionalized thinking, too. And that’s what the song’s about.
The Outsiders
Once again, all these stories connect – and you’re proving just how cohesive this album really is. “The Outsiders” is a response to the times we’re living in. People online talk like they define the culture – like the internet controls everything. I don’t believe that. I think the ones who aren’t really outside need to quiet down, or at least stop being the loudest voices in the room. We’ve got to stop validating people who haven’t put in the work – who haven’t lived it or brought their craft into the world.
I embody the outsider. We’re the ones who created the culture people on the internet now debate and dissect. A lot of the things they post about – who was hot, what era was the best – those moments were built by people who actually went through it. It’s like in A Few Good Men. Jack Nicholson’s character is on trial, and he says something real: “You don’t have the right to rest safe under a blanket I provide, and then question how I provide it.” That stuck with me. He’s saying, you’re safe because of me – and even if you don’t agree with how I did it, it worked.
That’s what the internet does – it critiques the outcome without understanding the sacrifice. There’s no appreciation for the ones who were in the fire. And that’s where we are right now. There’s no rank anymore – no structure. People who haven’t done anything are trying to tell people like us how to do everything. I’m up early working. You’re working. We’re doing interviews, executing things. Meanwhile, others scroll their phones, see the result, and act like experts. “Ask this question this way.” “Do the interview that way.” But you didn’t build this. You just watched it happen.
That’s what I try to bring into every project – the stuff that’s really happening outside. The truth. Whether good or bad. People love to criticize the culture – “Y’all are too violent,” “This is why things never get better.” But I’m not violent. I’m prepared to defend my family. And sometimes, things happen. Sometimes if nobody steps up, the situation gets worse.
We act like we want peace, but even this country spends more money on war than anything else. You ever seen a Marine commercial? It looks like a movie – high-budget, cinematic. That money is real. But when a fight happens in the hood, the culture gets blamed. Violence isn’t just a problem – sometimes it’s a response. Sometimes it ends the war. Wars don’t stop because everyone wants peace. They stop because one side knows what the other side is capable of. They stop because of fear. So when I talk about “The Outsiders,” that’s what I’m saying. We’re the ones who’ve lived it. We’re the reason you feel safe enough to even speak the way you do. You might not like how it got done – but it got done. And that deserves respect.
You
“For You” is the one record on this album where I wanted to speak directly to the women. I always try to have at least one track that does that. Not saying men can’t relate – but this one is for the ladies. I’m talking about everything she’s going through – her flaws, her struggles. She’s got kids that aren’t mine. She wears a bonnet. She’s tired. She’s trying to hold it all together. And I’m saying, “I see you – and I’m here for you.” It’s about loving someone through the things they think make them unlovable. Seeing the imperfections and embracing them. Supporting her through what most people overlook – or walk away from. A lot of men want women to serve them. This song flips that. It’s about being there for her. Meeting her where she is. Taking her as she comes. That’s the heart of it. And I actually produced this one myself – made the beat, built the whole record from scratch.
Shadow Out
“Shadow Out” actually started as an interlude. I was just talking on it – planning to use it as a trailer to tease the album. But as I sat with it, I decided to make it the actual outro. The title was inspired by “Mamba Out” – the way Kobe signed off after his final game. That same energy. I wanted to close the project by speaking directly about what it represents. This album wraps up a trilogy. So with “Shadow Out,” I’m saying: If you thought this was just another record full of street talk, you missed it. This is for the rebels – the ones pushing back against everything. The industry. The system. The streets. The pain. That’s the heart of The Last Shadow in the Shade. “Shadow Out” explains the trilogy in its totality. It’s me signing off on the whole three-piece. I produced that one, too.
On the Radar Freestyle
You know the On The Radar platform out of New York, right? They’re doing their thing. When I went up there, they required an original freestyle – so I took this beat from my guy pis.i and ended up putting it on the album. I love when albums close with a freestyle. It’s nostalgic – very ’90s. It gives that feeling like, “Hey, I’m still one of them.” No hook, just straight raps. It’s raw. It’s me telling my truth – no storytelling, just bars, punchlines, shock value lines, haymakers.
People get it twisted sometimes, so I’ll break it down – there’s a difference between a freestyle and going off the dome. A freestyle can be a verse you’ve already got in the stash, or something prepared on the spot. Off the dome is more like, “This just came to me right now.” With this one, I prepared that verse before I got there. But did I write it down? No. Did I prepare it in my head before I got there? Yes. I was riding to the studio with my guys Vega7 The Ronin and Lord Owen, and they had to play the instrumental in the car. That’s how fresh the verse was – I was locking it in while we were on the way. You can even see them in the background of the video, and they’ll vouch for it. That said, I’ve gone completely off the dome plenty of times. I’ve proven that in battles. I can do both. But this one was about giving people that real freestyle energy to close the album out.
Moral Code
You know what’s funny – I actually took “Moral Code” off the album. It’s only on the deluxe. The reason I pulled it is because, outside of “On The Radar Freestyle,” every song on The Last Shadow in the Shade has a story or message. I don’t like having too many records where I’m just rapping – even if I’m rapping well. If there’s no depth or narrative, it doesn’t feel like it fits the bigger picture.
Now, the hook on “Moral Code” has some real substance, but in the verses, I’m really just popping my talk. There’s no real storyline or arc. So I decided to save it for later. When I dropped the deluxe, I threw it back in – and people actually responded to it. They rocked with it. So yeah, “Moral Code” is just me spitting over a beat I love. No story, just bars – but there’s still truth in it. And I’ll take that.
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