Ozone Magazine

Words by Maurice G. Garland
Photos by Wuz Good

You’ve heard about the Memphis rap scene. “No unity” and “crabs in a barrel” are the phrases often used to describe it. Just about every crew that has come from the city has either seen their numbers dwindle over the years or simply dissipate completely. Though he came in the game with an affiliation to local legend Kingpin Skinny Pimp, Yo Gotti has pretty much been an one-man show his entire run in the rap game. Right now, that’s looking like a good thing. He has no one to blame when things go wrong and he can enjoy all the spoils when things go right. He doesn’t get dragged into anyone else’s business, so he has all the time he needs to focus on his.

After toiling through a less-than-productive run with the now bankrupt and defunct TVT Records, Gotti is inching his way back onto the national scene with a new deal at Polo Grounds/J Records. Backed by the momentum of his Cocaine Muzik mixtape series and some key features on the Gucci Mane hits “Bricks” and “Ridiculous,” Yo Gotti is poised to redefine Memphis rap as we know it.

Catch everybody up with what you’re doing.
Cocaine Muzik 3 is in the streets right now and I’m working on my album Live From The Kitchen for my new situation with J Records/Polo Grounds. TVT went bankrupt and I was able to get myself out of the contract.

As far as the label stuff, what attracted you to take advantage of that opportunity? You have independent and underground roots and a lot of people say major labels are not what they used to be. I went from doing my thing in my neighborhood, to signing a deal with TVT a couple years back so, still to this day I never experienced the work of a J Records or a Universal, what you would call a big machine. This shit is something new to me. Everything that I have done up to this point I’ve done hands on. Me signing with TVT was like they weren’t really there. Them muthafuckers ain’t assist me to get to the next level . They just benefited off what I did in the streets and they got what they could get out of the situation. That’s all I know, is to do it myself and be hands on with it in the street.

With Cocaine Music 3, what should people be expecting that they didn’t get on the first and second one? Is it like a continuation of what you’ve been talking about?
First of all, Cocaine Music is a brand. Like, Drama has Gangsta Grillz and other DJs have their brands, like Smallz’ Southern Smoke. So, I said I was gonna form Cocaine Muzik to where when you hear this shit you already know its that real street trap shit, the shit that you got to have. I started off just doing me. So, I got Cocaine Muzik 3 coming then I’m going to skip 4 and go to 4 1/2. I’m going to try to put that out right before the album drops. If you heard Cocaine 1 and 2, you’d know that on Cocaine 1 we rapped on other people’s beats and we had movie clips in there that related to the whole shit and made it a movie. But we couldn’t do that on Cocaine 2 because we went in the stores and that was a part of the situation of me getting out of the deal with the people that bought TVT. So, on 3 we’re going to go back to this shit like we did on 1 and make this shit a whole movie.

Why did you choose to use Cocaine Muzik as a brand? Obviously, when people hear the word cocaine, it has controversial connotations.
I’m from North Memphis. When I get to Pittsburgh and Richmond, Virginia and Baltimore and Portland, Oregon where we’re doing these shows and I’ve never had a video on TV, when I get into their city and it’s 1,000 – 1,500 people there in the club and they’re paying me just as much as they’re paying the nigga on TV. When I drop the music they know every word. I mean, what else spreads like that [besides cocaine]? The addiction of the music, that shit is natural. How do these people this far away from where I’m at know this shit like this? To me it ain’t too much shit that spread like that. That’s the whole concept behind the Cocaine Muzik and if you put Yo Gotti CD in your CD player, you’re bound not to take it out, you’re bound to be addicted to it. If you take one hit of cocaine, some people are strong enough [to resist addiction] but the majority ain’t. They’re [hooked].

Since you’re able to go to these different cities, obviously the people are hearing something that they like or relate to. How much do you get to experience and interact with these people that aren’t from Memphis but seem to relate to everything in your music?
I get to interact with fans at every show. I take pictures with the women, holla at the niggas, whatever they want to do. You don’t really see me come in the door and walk straight to the stage and when the music goes off I’m back out to the tour bus. We kick it in the club after the show so we actually get to rap with niggas and we be in the malls before the show. We’re around the city getting something to eat at the soul food spots or we in the malls, so we get to interact with people all the time. Street life is a culture and the shit is the same to a certain degree everywhere. If I’m hustling in Memphis and you’re hustling in your city, we’re damn near hustling for the same reason. Some people are hustling to get their family out of the hood to a better place. You got [some] niggas just hustling, what I like to call, “just bullshitting around.” [Some] niggas don’t know what’s real; they’re hustling just to get some tennis shoes and shit, playing with your life. You’ve got those types of niggas everywhere. So, I think it’s the same. I got a song on my new album called “Looking in the Mirror.” When I approach another nigga, that’s what you’re doing. If you a real nigga and I’m looking at you and you a real nigga and you looking at me, we looking in the mirror. No matter what city, what state we from.

Do you experience a lot of them in your travels? Do you seem to have fans that are reflections of you or do you have fans that are probably nothing like you, they just happen to like that music.
We see both kinds. I think I got a good way of looking at a nigga and sensing if it’s a real nigga or not or if this a nigga trying to put his front on because he in front of you for fifteen minutes. At the same time that’s a hard determination to make within fifteen to twenty minutes. All I can do is I be real with everybody.

As an artist and listener do you see a difference in the “street music” and the “commercial music” these days? Most radio stations are playing street shit.
It really ain’t a difference. If I’ve got a big radio record, they’ll say that’s a commercial record. To me that record is the production, the sound of the beats sound big. I just talk about my life, I only know one way. So no matter how big that beat sounds or [if] we got a R&B singer on the hook or what not, I’m still going to be talking from a street nigga perspective because that’s all I know. So, I don’t know how to make that commercial hit. So if the beat sounds commercial and it’s a big beat and it’s a record that’s very successful, that ain’t commercial to me. You listen to the verses and you a street nigga, you hear what I’m saying. If you really come from that shit like I do, you know the consequences behind that shit [we were doing] in the hood. Nigga, are you trying to get out? I’m not saying you’re trying to leave the hood or not fuck with your niggas from the hood, but you’re trying to get to a better life. It kills me to hear niggas say, “Aw, man, I’m staying in the hood.” In that case you shouldn’t be rapping. Go re-up.

With so many street records coming out from rappers who may or may not have really lived that life, why do you say you continue to make that kind of music? You’ve got some success, so why do you decide to still cater to that street type music even though you may or may not have to endure those struggles anymore?
For one, that’s what got me here. Two, this is what I’ve been living for twenty-something years, so this is what I can tell you about the best. I know this, I done this, I seen this. I can tell you this exactly how it went. If I try to tell you some shit I don’t know about, I don’t know if the song is going to be that good. I’m not trying to make no big records, I got keep this shit street. I am getting with bigger producers to take my shit to the next level. But I’m still going to keep the same subject matter.

How has it been so far trying to balance the two and learn along the way as far as getting with bigger producers and making more quality products, so to speak?
I’ve been doing this shit professionally for a minute so, I think I got it under control. As far as working with different people, I don’t think I’ve ever been on some starstruck shit because a producer was big. I go in that motherfucker and whether this is your first beat and I’m about to use it on my album or you had ten number ones, I kind of approach this shit the same way. But I respect the nigga that had the number ones, so when I’m in the studio with him, if he says we probably should go in this direction, I’m listening to the nigga to consider his opinion. When I was coming up I was around some of the biggest street niggas; niggas that been had money. They was superstars to me, so I figure I’ve already been around stars before I got in the rap game.

Tell us about your experience growing up in Memphis, if it was different or the same as some of the artists that we hear come from there. We’ve heard a lot of stories of pain and struggle.
For me it was like, a young nigga trying to get on and just hustling with my homeboys. I was just doing me. There’s most definitely pain and struggle, but that shit [exists] in every city. You’ve got artists like 8Ball & MJG coming out talking about pimping and shit and they’re from Memphis, but I’m from Memphis and I ain’t no motherfucking pimp. I’m a hustler, but at the same time, that just shows you two different lifestyles in that same city.

Was it hard trying to come from that angle? You know, Ball and G came out on that pimp shit. Three 6 Mafia was doing what they were doing. Then you had the Playa Flys and Tommy Wright IIIs. At one time, other than Criminal Manne, you were probably one of the few other Memphis rappers coming from that “street hustler” side of things, content wise.
It’s kinda crazy because my situation is a little different from a lot of niggas. My shit didn’t have a blueprint when we started. When you start, you’ve got plans on making it big, so you can’t remember if it was hard or not. When my shit started, we was just doing it, hustling, young niggas with money. We paid for the studio and flyers and we’d be in these cars riding around shining and rapping for fun. We were doing shit just for the neighborhood. I wasn’t even focusing on running after DJs to get my shit played. I was just doing it for the hood. DJs started calling me. I ain’t know nothing about that shit. So in a way, it was a long time getting here, but I can’t say it was hard because I wasn’t focused on it. I was just doing the shit and it popped off.

 

That’s interesting. You come from the “I’m not a rapper, I’m a hustler” mold, but what you just said is actually quite “Hip Hop,” when you think about it.
When I’m in the booth, to me, it’s a feeling I get out of talking to a million niggas like me. I know when I’m in the booth and say what I got to say I ain’t just saying it for me, I’m saying it for a million niggas like me. I’m speaking for me and them, and I get enjoyment out of that. So that makes me feel good just to say that. So I guess it is like I’m doing it for the love at the same time. But as a hustler you’ve got to feed your family. You can’t act like the money doesn’t matter. The money most definitely matters. If I can’t feed my kids and take care of my mama and little sister and make sure my brother stay out of the pen, I gotta go back to doing what I was doing [before rapping], no question.

If you had it to do all over again, what would you want to do other than hustle?
Man, listen. My daddy was a hustler. He’s 58 years old and he’s in jail right now as we speak for a dope charge. My mama was a hustler. My aunties [have] done Fed time. I wouldn’t change nothing. I come from a life of hustler and I figured that the shit the streets teach you, a school can’t. If I didn’t see what I saw, I wouldn’t be ready for the world. Only other thing I had in mind as a child was, I used to tell my family I wanted to be a lawyer so I could get my family out of jail. That’s the only other thing I ever wanted to be. I never wanted to be hustler, I didn’t plan to be hustling, but the shit just happened like this.

We haven’t hardly said anything about your album yet. Take a moment to talk about it.
It’s called Live From The Kitchen. I’m at Cool & Dre’s studios right now. I worked with J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League. I worked with Hot Rod, he did “5-Star Bitch,” I just signed him. I work with so many producers that I can’t even remember. I’m trying to create a classic. We’ve got 63 songs right now so by the time I pick the 13-14 we use, I’ll probably have 100 songs. I just want this shit to be a classic album that niggas remember. We want to show that we can take this shit to the next level.

To you, what are the ingredients of a classic?
A classic has to have at least five or six singles. Niggas nowadays have one [hit record] and you throw the CD out. We need to have five or six singles, even if it’s three on radio and three in the streets. Then the CD has to be be well thought out.

How often do you record?
I record every day so I don’t have to open up my budget to get in the studio. I’m already in the studio anyway, fucking with different niggas. I’m on the road every weekend doing shows and shit. That’s my break from the studio, so it’s like I’m working still. You’ve got to be dedicated to this shit. People look at the NBA players, talking about his $100 million dollar contract. But that nigga practices. He’s always away from his family; he only gets to go home twice a month. That’s what niggas don’t see when they’re counting another nigga’s money.

I’ve spoken with artists who talk of needing inspiration, or looking for it. What inspires you? It sounds like you don’t have much time to actually be inspired.
My inspiration is freedom and making sure my family lives how they want to be living. Every day when I wake up, I’m getting phone calls from my homeboys in the Feds and sending out money orders and pictures. That’s my inspiration, because I could easily be where they are. My mama got the house and car that she wanted. Right now I’ve got seven or eight homeboys in the Feds. Of course they want to get out, but they’re men so they’re gonna hold their head up. Niggas gotta stay strong; they ain’t gonna tell you when they’re fucked up. They just want to hear that you’re doing good. You don’t know how good that makes them feel and how easier it makes it for them to do their time. In exchange, they tell me about different books I need to read. //