genre hiphop

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From having the country “talm ‘bout innit” to getting name-checked on “Whim Whammie,” one of the year’s buzziest breakthrough rap hits, BunnaB, 22, has emerged as one of the most resonant voices in a new class of Atlanta-bred female rappers. 

Blending the raucous debauchery of mixtape-era Gucci Mane and the Futuristic Era sounds that dominated their childhoods, this new class of female MCs prioritizes party music that speaks to the specific realities and intricacies of female relationships in the social media-stained 2020s. For her part, BunnaB, beloved for her infectious, near-constant laughs, has separated herself from this ascendant pack by infusing her bubbly disposition, girl’s girl attitude, unfettered authenticity — and the unmistakable gravity of earning a second shot. 

Out Wednesday (Nov. 5) via Artist Partner Group, Bunna’s new Sweet Lick mixtape doubles down on the sing-songy melodies and positive vibes that she rode to the zenith of Gen Z culture with June’s Ice Cream Summer Deluxe mixtape. “I didn’t want to go in a specific direction,” she explains to Billboard. “Maybe I can do it for my album.” When “Bunna Summa” first started gaining traction on TikTok and Instagram Reels this spring, the Edgewood-born rapper had just relaunched her music career with January’s “No Drought” (the song YKNiece and PLUTO nod to on “Whim Whammie”). She initially caught some steam with 2023’s “My Man,” which resulted in a deal with Atlantic Records; creative differences sank the pair’s relationship, ending in the label shelving Bunna and the rapper signing with APG in March. 

With “No Drought” reviving her momentum, “Bunna Summa” reached No. 27 on R&B/Hip-Hop Songs, and follow-up tracks “Fine Shyt,” “Innit” and “Mad Again” kept her in the forefront of the conversation. In August, Metro Boomin recruited Bunna for A Futuristic Summa standout “My Lil S—t,” and legendary producer Jermaine Dupri called her the following month for “Magic City Money,” a track from his compilation album tributing the famed ATL strip club. Both collaborations proved that even her city’s leading voices recognized Bunna as not just one of the most obvious new stars of her class, but also as a bridge between today and the city’s late ‘00s and early ‘10s Futuristic Era. 

Though she enraptured TikTok all over again with her hysterical outbursts during a viral stream with Plaqueboymax and Rakai, Bunna isn’t all giggles. In October, her Ice Cream Girl Road Trip tour of HBCU homecomings brought her to Spelman and Morehouse Colleges in her hometown. Social media clips captured students groaning and booing in response to Bunna’s performance announcement, so she treated them with an uncharacteristically reserved performance, plainly saying, “If y’all don’t f—k with me, I don’t f—k with you… I want to save my energy for the people [who] want to see it.” Incredibly, that level of authenticity won over the oft-unmovable TikTok comment section, proving that, in just a few months, Bunna has built a fanbase intimately in-tune with both her artistry and her personhood. 

Below, BunnaB speaks with Billboard about Sweet Lick, what makes this new class of ATL female MCs special and how meet-and-greets inspire her songwriting.

How’s it been like walking around your hometown after the year you’ve had?

It’s been good, but people ask for pictures and stuff. I’m really surprised. I ain’t really took it in yet.

What’s been your biggest pinch-me moment so far?

When I had a show at UCLA. It was a couple weeks ago. I just seen so many lights. I’ve never seen that many phones before, and everybody’s screaming the song.

Where did you even find the time to record this new mixtape?

In between the days when I ain’t got to go out of town and do something. I was focused on myself with this mixtape.

“D.P.W.M.F.” goes hard. When’s the last time you really had to arrive from one of your homegirls like that?

It was some time ago because I really tried to mature when it comes to my friends. But I don’t like people hurting people who I love. I can’t tell you what I did, but I be having my friends back though.

“Just a Girl” is a nice, softer parallel to “D.P.W.M.F.” Would you consider a remix for that one? 

I’m not sure about a remix. I wanted to put that song out there because some girls really need to hear it. All the conversations I have in my meet-and-greets made me go home like, “Let me make a song for them.” [My fans] really come to me in tears and tell me what they’re going through, and I cry too. I can’t control my emotions when I’m talking to these people.

What are some things that you learned from working with icons like Jermaine Dupri and Metro Boomin?

Working with them helped me meet different people and helped me learn better. It gave me a bigger opportunity for people to see me.

What do you hope to bring from the Futuristic Era to your audience?

I don’t be trying to give futuristic, it just comes because it’s our culture. When I’m in the studio, it just pops out.

What made you want to incorporate your humor into your brand with your songs like “LMAO?”

[Laughs.] I didn’t know people would gravitate to it so much. Once I seen people keep talking about the way I smile, I was like, “Let me make a song about it.”

Were you a happy baby?

Yeah, always.

Do you prefer freestyling or writing?

Writing. Because you kind of know what you’re going to go in there and say, instead of just coming off the head.

What inspired “DeadBeat BabyMama?”

If I’m having a conversation and I feel like somebody’s speaking on a good topic, I put it in my notes and I write to it later. I was speaking with my sisters, and they were talking about somebody being a deadbeat, and I was like, “This would be a good song somebody could relate to.” I done had this song for a minute now.

What’s been your favorite performance of the year so far outside of UCLA? What have you learned from being on the road this year?

My favorite performance was probably when I stopped in Dallas on my [Ice Cream Girl] Road Trip. Maybe it was because it was my first stop, but I feel like they gave me all the energy that they had. I couldn’t believe I was headlining my own show and people was buying tickets to see me. The college people love me, so when I go to homecomings, it’s cool to step out there and know that people been waiting on you.

What have been some of your biggest takeaways on the business side this year?

I learned I am the business. I got to move like a business. My body is my brand, so I got to take care of myself.

When you look back on 2025, what are you most proud of and what are you most surprised by?

I’m proud of me just elevating and putting out more music and trying to learn my sound. And I’m most shocked by people really loving me. Still can’t believe it, but they love me. Some artists got diehard fans who ride for them, and I feel like I got the same.

Do you have any more videos on the way?

Yes, I got videos for “DeadBeat BabyMama,” “LMAO,” “Hoe Is You Cool,” and maybe one more for “To the Left.” I really wanted to put out 4 videos, but it’s been hard for me to move around and pick a day.

What excites you most about this new class of female rappers, especially the ones that are coming out of Atlanta?

It’s really us girls right now! And it’s not like we’re just making the music, we doing something with it. We elevating and building fan bases. It ain’t just rap. I feel like it’s bigger than rap.

What do you most hope to accomplish by the end of next year?

I want to drop my debut album, go on my first headlining tour, and connect with my fans in real life.

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On a balmy September evening in Staten Island, Chef Shaw-naé Dixon is getting ready for her house to be packed. In just a few hours, her quaint and homey soul food staple, Shaw-naé’s House, will be bustling with guests.

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Tonight, Al Roker and his Weather Hunter team will be in attendance, anticipating a bevy of soulful classics, including oxtail, ribs, fries, mac and cheese and jerk chicken. I am also supposed to stop by, not only to witness Shaw-naé in her element — The New York Times celebrated her personable cooking approach, noting how she often spends her evenings out chatting and bonding with each guest — but to also treat my wife to some of her hearty cuisine. Unfortunately, my wife is sick, so I text Shaw-naé to tell her I’ll be missing her service to be of service to my lady instead.

“Have her boil pineapple skins with soursop leaves and ginger and sip throughout the day,” she texts back. “Mullein extract can also be ordered on Amazon. This knocks that s—t out like LL COOL J. TALK SOON. I LOVE YOU.”

Thankfully, I had already been able to visit Shaw-naé’s House on my own a few days before, where she greeted me with a warm, intentional hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I think a bird just took a s—t on me,” Shaw-naé told me before our embrace. I noted that usually implies good luck. “I don’t need any more luck,” she quipped with a full belly laugh.

Listening to Shaw-naé’s life story, that sentiment could very well be true. Both of these interactions are indicative of her approach to cuisine and hospitality as a whole. She’s a caretaker first, cook second. For Shaw-naé, food is a means of community, a way of expressing love, dating all the way back to her grandparents. As a Staten Island native, Shaw-naé’s father and mother were both born on the island, with her grandparents living out in South Jersey, “sort of doin’ the Jeffersons ‘Movin’ on Up’ thing,” as Shaw-naé tells it. Her grandmother went to Pratt and became a nutritionist, so good food and intentional cooking became a priority in Shaw-naé’s family early on. She has no formal training, but her family taught her everything there is to know about food.

“She used to call her house the, ‘Do Drop In,’” Shaw-naé says. “She always felt like she had to have something prepared for people to eat. She always cooked massive amounts, like for a marching band. When my husband and I met, he asked me, ‘Why do you cook so much food?’ I said, ‘I can’t help it. My grandmother taught me when someone walks in, you have to have food prepared.’”

Shaw-naé’s rich family history has become an instrumental part of her approach to food. While sitting in the “living room” of her petite restaurant, which is stuffed with Wu-Tang memorabilia and other eclectic knick-knacks, she tells me that her ancestors were the first Black settlers to ever reside on the island. Her first ancestor, Captain John Jackson, came over in 1799 and became the first Black purchaser of land on Staten Island. An oysterman and farmer, Jackson “created the farms and created the businesses behind oystering.”

“He also brought Harriet Tubman in multiple times with groups of slaves and freed them here in the community,” Shaw-naé says. “So I have this whole historical legacy attachment to my lineage. I was supposed to be an entrepreneur. I was supposed to be somebody in the community that was doing all this stuff, not just with food, but with empowering my people.”

This historic settlement founded by Jackson in 1828 would be called Sandy Ground and go down in history as the oldest continuously inhabited free Black settlement in the United States. As a successful oyster-gathering and farming village, farmers harvested blueberries, sweet potatoes, asparagus and, most importantly, strawberries.

“Strawberries were the biggest, and that’s because when our counterparts came here and poisoned the water so we could no longer oyster,” Shaw-naé says, “they found out our businesses were staying up because of the farms. So they came and burnt the farm down. But when they burnt the farm down, they burnt the land, and the strawberries grew out of the sand. So they named the community Sandy Ground because when the ground became sandy, the strawberries flourished.”

Shaw-naé Dixon

Colin Clark

As we move to the kitchen, Shaw-naé reaffirms to me that this powerful history is the backbone of her business and her success. It’s why she’s able to stand over her stove, sauté some collard greens, and lather up her ribs in some of the best BBQ sauce the city has to offer. I’d go into further detail about what I saw, but scribed in chalk on a pillar right outside the kitchen reads, “NDA required beyond this point. Deadass.”

While Shaw-naé has worn many hats over the years — social worker, teacher — she got her official culinary start catering in the entertainment industry, more specifically in radio and hip-hop circles. After quitting her job in 2014, she began selling food directly out of her home, spreading the word via handmade flyers. Very soon after, she found herself chasing down 50 Cent’s car outside the Javits Center to give him a few of said flyers. She recalled banging on his car window, crying out to him that she had previously worked with Power star Michael Rainey, who is from Staten Island.

“I’m like, ‘Open the window!’ 50 Cent looks at his driver and is like, ‘Yeah, open the window!’” Shaw-naé recalls. After handing the rap mogul a few flyers, she asked to cater for the set of Power. He allegedly agreed but never called. (50 Cent could not be reached for comment for this story.)

“I figured it was because I was bein’ crazy,” Shaw-naé says with a laugh. She refined her approach but kept her hustler spirit going, and eventually, after “harassing the receptionist for two weeks on the phone,” landed a gig catering The Breakfast Club and iHeart Radio. She didn’t receive any payment for the work at first, because she said all she wanted to do was feed the team and showcase her food.

“I didn’t work for them; I got the opportunity to feed them,” she says. She says she eventually persuaded Charlamagne to actually hire her to cater a special Valentine’s Day meal at his home in February of 2016, and more work transpired from there.

Shaw-naé and I exit the kitchen, and she hands me a plate overflowing with food. While I’m trying to be respectful, every instinct in me wants to gorge on this unbelievable meal. Shaw-naé explains how then-mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani is dying to speak with her, how the Venmo CEO invited her to some fancy app meeting, all while Al Roker is buzzing on her phone to give an update on Friday’s upcoming dinner service.

Shaw-naé’s catering business continued to pick up considerable steam until March of 2020, where she said she cooked meals for everyone from Cardi B to DJ Clue. The way Shaw-naé tells it, heading into the pandemic became a shifting point for her. She said she began experiencing spiritual visions, noting one in particular of faceless people ascending up an escalator as a numbered chart in the corner spiraled up into the millions. Then things came to a head in March of 2020 when Shaw-naé and her husband flew to Las Vegas for a business trip. When they arrived, reports of COVID-19 had begun to spread across the media landscape. It was only a few days before Shaw-naé said it was time to go.

Shaw-naé Dixon

Harry Crosland

“I told [my husband], I think I saw this already,” Shaw-naé says. “I go to Whole Foods and I buy $400 worth of vitamins and extracts. I give my husband all these vitamins. I bought two scarves, I bought sanitary napkins, and I made masks. We get on the airplane and I tell my husband, ‘Don’t take that off! Leave it on!’ My husband was like, ‘She’s nuts, but I’m listening.’”

When they arrived home, Shaw-naé says she told her husband to stop bringing the kids to school. Her husband, Jason, disregarded this, but a day later, school was canceled. As COVID-19 began to spread, Shaw-naé says she felt a spiritual call to take up meditation. She began meditating every day and started studying healthier eating habits and holistic food. As March turned into April and May, Shaw-naé started to rapidly lose weight.

“I felt my body start to breathe without me,” she says. “Like from my feet to my head, it felt like my skin was breathing. I felt something was not right.”

She booked a telemedicine appointment, but the doctor allegedly disregarded Shaw-naé’s concerns and told her she was glowing and looked healthier than ever. Shaw-naé pushed for an in-person appointment, and the doctor obliged. When she went in person, she was allegedly given the all-clear, except the doctor reportedly told her she was “severely anemic,” and they recommended a uterine ablation: an extremely common, low-risk procedure meant to aid in reducing iron loss during menstrual cycles, according to Johns Hopkins Medicine. Shaw-naé agreed and they booked the procedure for September.

“I don’t remember going into the doctor for that procedure,” Shaw-naé says. “My husband said [afterward] he literally hoisted me over his shoulder to carry me home.”

Shaw-naé said she was couch-bound and slept heavily for two days. On September 11, 2020, her family said Shaw-naé was lucid and cognizant and “sat on the couch, ate chips,” but Shaw-naé says she doesn’t remember any of that day either. The following day, Jason started a bath for Shaw-naé because he said she was “moaning and somehow in pain.” He ran the bath and left to go to the gym. Shaw-naé got into the bath fully clothed and left the water running. Her 13-year-old son found her submerged in the tub unresponsive. When EMS arrived, they pronounced her dead on the scene, but brought her to the hospital and ended up resuscitating her. They then put her in a medically induced coma. She awoke to her family crying and hugging her four days later.

“The doctors told my husband, ‘She’s fighting so hard to die,’” Shaw-naé tells me as I pull apart her BBQ ribs with my teeth. “They said, ‘We don’t know what the outcome is gonna be, but most likely she’s not gonna be able to talk, walk, or get herself dressed.’”

None of that ended up being true, and Shaw-naé made a full recovery. The chef says the doctors diagnosed the situation as a Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation, a rare, but serious blood clotting episode. Regardless, Shaw-naé says she experienced a spiritual calling while she was in the coma, noting that God told her to feed and provide for as many people as she could.

“For me, to emerge post-Pandemic and open up this soul food restaurant, it was like, ‘Why is she opening up this soul food restaurant? Who the hell is she?” Shaw-naé recalled. “When I pulled up in front of this building on Van Duzer street. I didn’t know what was in here, I didn’t know what it was. All I heard was a voice say: “That’s your building.”

Shaw-naé’s House opened in June of 2021, and it’s been a whirlwind ever since. The New York Times gave her a rave two and a half out of five stars. She’s been offered book and film deals for her incredibly unique story, and she’s is currently in talks to host her own cooking shows. Not to mention her House continues to be a hot spot for local and national celebrities. Shockingly, despite Wu-Tang inspired memorabilia decorating her space, the legendary rap group has yet to enter her home. Shaw-naé notes that it’ll happen when it’s meant to, and in the meantime, she’s devoted to her diners, her community, and her spiritual mission to help people through her unbelievable food.

“I believe that every single person coming into this restaurant is coming here intentionally,” Shaw-naé says as I finish my plate. “It’s not just the food, they’re coming here for a specific type of experience. Everybody’s not the same, but everyone here is treated the same. I believe that heals people.”

She then looks at my plate, and looks up at me and smiles. “Let’s get you some leftovers for your wife.”

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When OsamaSon sent me a physical copy of his new album Psykotic back in October, he included with it a new Walkman CD player. I loaded the disc in, put the black corded earbuds into my ears, and pressed play. Within seconds, the explosive jolt of “Habits” convinced me that the Walkman was broken. I began tinkering with the headphone cord, twisting it around in the hopes that it would clean up the song’s warped, distorted crunch.

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Once Psykotic hit streaming a few weeks later, it became clear that the album’s gnarled, crackling gut punches were completely intentional. To the untrained ear, songs like “Inferno” and “In It” can be a nauseating, all-consuming nightmare. But OsamaSon takes a lot of time crafting his seismic sound. Dialing everything up to 11 is a very serious job, and the 22-year-old rapper knows the difference between what’s just noise and what’s a certified hit.

His fans do too. The album hit No. 81 on the Billboard 200, and that mutual understanding has led to an unbelievably ravenous — and at times incredibly toxic — fanbase that OsamaSon loves, but is often frustrated by. It also explains why early album copies were sent out via Walkman.

The rapper’s previous tape, Jump Out, was almost completely derailed by leakers and hackers before it dropped in January. Hundreds of songs, both old and new, continuously found their way online, and the situation became so dire that Osama’s own team allegedly released a 10-track tape called Leaks Tape to help keep fans engaged. Osama notes that even though Psykotic’s rollout was much cleaner, the leaking issue persist to this day — and that it’s not just his music being posted online anymore.

Below, Billboard chats with OsamaSon before his show at Brooklyn Paramount to talk about his new album and how he’s overcome the leakers, haters, and controversies that surround his art.

Now that Psykotic is out in the world, how are you feeling about this project versus Jump Out?

I feel way better about this project than the Jump Out project. When I dropped Jump Out, there were a lot of mixed opinions. I don’t feel like they understood it. I’m seeing more positive opinions on Psykotic. I feel like they received it a lot better.

Take me through the earliest stages of Psykotic, and how you found your sound. It seems like you really knew what you wanted the album to sound like.

Just experimenting and trying s—t that I like personally, and not trying to be too inspired by other people. It’s just me going to the studio, me recording myself, recording, and recording, and recording. I got so many songs, and people might think the songs I put out are just what I’m making right then and there. How many songs are on Psykotic? 17? Out of those 17, I had to pick from like 1,000 I made this year.

How do you narrow it down?

It depends on the feeling I’m going for. So Psykotic was supposed to be psychotic, obviously. I’m trying to go for the loud noise, super good mix, but still crazy where you’re either gonna be surprised by the lyrics or the beat. I don’t ever go off of, “Yo, this snippet is goin’ viral; I gotta drop it.” That adds into it, but if I don’t personally like it, I’m not gonna drop it.

Your sound is definitely unique to you, but at the same time, I can hear the XXXTENTACION, Lil Uzi Vert influence on your music. Do you intentionally pull from them, or is their impact more through osmosis?

Being humans in general, I feel like we do a lot of s—t unintentionally all the time without even knowing. Sometimes I be makin’ a song, and I’m like, “This is the craziest song; I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like this.” Then I end up going back to some old, old music, and I hear Uzi say a bar that I happened to say in a new song. I didn’t do that on purpose — that happens all the time. I feel like that’s just being an artist.

You seem intent on pushing outside your creative comfort zone. How do you feel about the term “rage rap” to describe your music? Does that term ever make you feel boxed in?

Not really, ’cause they label me something new all the time. First it’s underground rap, then it’s dark plug, and now it’s rage rap. I feel like it’s always gonna change, so I don’t really try to dwell too much on that aspect of it. It’s based on your opinion. Some say I might make music for the ladies, some might say I make music for the mosh pits. I might say I make music for myself.

Tell me about how that fueled your approach to the album’s cover art. That started quite a bit of controversy online.

It’s a fire cover art, man! It’s not even nothin’ to get — like if you want me to keep it 100% with you, bro — it wasn’t nothin’ crazy. Like we wasn’t tryin’ to be on some blasphemous s—t—Man, you know what?—We were. Yeah, we were trying to disrespect all the religions! F—k ’em, f—k everybody. F–k how everybody feels. That’s what the cover is, man: F—k you. I sent this s—t to my mom and everything, and she was like, “This is perfect.”

I saw something on Reddit about how you should have instead leaned into some Osama Bin Laden terrorism vibes because of your name. It left me thinking, “That can’t possibly be a more preferred branding.”

Yeah! Like should I be a terrorist or a devil worshipper? I’d rather be a devil worshipper.

Do you feel in those moments you’re kinda taking the power back from your haters in a way?

Yeah, and at first I didn’t really realize it. I wasn’t using my power how I was supposed to, bro. I cared about what people thought, and I’m at the point where I don’t give a single f—k about what anybody thinks, because it doesn’t matter! The only opinion that matters to me is my mom’s. I don’t give a f—k about anybody else’s opinion.

Regardless, it also seems like this was your first leak-free rollout of an album.

I mean, I feel like my fans just accepted that it comes with the s—t. I feel like they accepted the leaks, the crazy s—t that happens behind my name—I don’t know. I feel like people are more used to what’s going on now. When it first started happening, I’m not gonna say I was the first to go through it, but the rate I was goin’ through it…

It was unbelievable how often your music was getting leaked out.

Yeah! Even for myself, I understand this way more. I just feel like it’s my life.

How did the leaks influence your approach to making this album and the subsequent rollout? I imagine it must have made you pretty paranoid about sharing music.

It was hard. I had to learn how to not feel some type of way about every leak. I used to just be in my feelings a lot, bro. I feel like the music I was making was super hard. And even if I didn’t put it out at that time, with [leakers] putting it out for me, it was kinda like… like, you see all the reactions to it, the feedback, and you’re just like, “I coulda dropped this on my own.” Like, I just — hm, I just gotta — It’s hard, bro. It’s my life too, so it’s like, I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I’m ever gonna get away from it.

From your perspective, what happened, and why have the leaks been so persistent?

Honestly, the attention the leakers were getting from it — with me being an up-and-coming artist and not a lot of people going through the same thing that I went through — it was kinda like that shock factor. You see [the leakers] are getting so lit, and that’s what it is, bro. These leakers are getting lit behind it. It gives them a name. They don’t have to show their face or post selfies. They just leak my music and get 2,000, 3,000 followers. For me to get 3,000 followers, I had to post like five trailers. I had to really work for it. All they gotta do is post my leak. It’s been kinda weird, man; it’s fried.

I genuinely don’t understand. I don’t think I’ll ever have a firm answer on it because it’s always different. Sometimes the leakers will be like, “Yo, f—k you and your whole family. I’m gonna leak everything.”

They’ve messaged you and said that to you?

Yeah, they leaked the address to my mom’s house! They got my mom’s house raided. Then the week after that, they’ll text me and be like, “Yo, my bad bro. I was tweakin’. I’m sorry, I really love you to death.”

That’s so crazy.

Yeah, it’s pretty weird, and I’ll never fully, genuinely understand it. I just gotta deal with it. But you kinda learn how to avoid it in certain ways—not send your music out to people, put music on hard drives, s—t like that. But you can’t 100% avoid it. Some people be like, “Yo, just don’t send your music to nobody.” You can’t not send your music to nobody! You got engineers, you got creatives that can’t f—kin’ create unless they’re hearing the music.

You want them to create on a blank canvas, somethin’ that doesn’t match the music at all? My manager has to hear the music, my producer has to hear the music. Maybe they wanna switch somethin’ up. It’s kinda impossible not to send s—t out to get worked on. If I don’t send it out, it’s never gonna drop.

It’s true, it’s not like you can wait for all these people to get in a room with you.

You feel me? Then if I do send it out, leakers somehow have been able to get their hands on this, or they hack my phone, or they just happen to hack this phone.

So is that how the idea of sending the album out with a Walkman came about?

What’s the Walkman?

The CD player!

Oh, that was [my team’s] idea. It was a cool idea. It was pretty fire.

How much did that help?

There were some songs that leaked out, but from [the CD copy], zero leaks, for sure. I think it was from me sending songs to my producer some months ago. I wasn’t even mad about it. It’s better than the f—kin’ last project. That whole s—t leaked before it came out.

I’m not gonna lie; I listened to the album on that Walkman, and I thought that my headphones were distorted or blown out. Then I realized that’s just your vibe.

Yeah, a lot of people were sayin’ that. It was probably just the mix, not gonna lie. We were mixing and mastering it till that s—t came out.

Did the leaks hinder your creative approach to making music?

Sometimes. It depends on how I feel about that song specifically. They was leakin’ bulls—t that I knew I was never going to drop, and I was like, f—k it; y’all can have it. But there have been times where we’re like planning on dropping s—t, like we shot videos, trailers, and somehow, as soon as we start working on the actual song, they leak it. Like, are they tapped into my phone? There’s been times where I’ve been having conversations on the phone, saying, “Alright, let’s shoot this video tomorrow.” I’ll wake up, and [my team] is like, “Yo, you’re never gonna believe what just happened.”

Have you met any other rappers at your age who are experiencing this?

No, I try to ask my peers all the time. I mean, I know Che went through it a little bit. There was this app called Untitled, and some leakers run the app. Whenever you log into it, they can go through every single person who’s ever made an account. It’s supposed to be a private place to upload your music, but that’s how a lot of people got hit. And just SoundCloud having horrible protection. Bro, you can hack SoundCloud with a link, and you can literally start typing in random letters to get into people’s accounts. It’s super easy. But yeah, I tried to ask my peers, but I don’t know. Some people’s music is just not wanted that bad, you know what I mean? Or some people just put out a lot of music to where their fans are satisfied. [My fans] just aren’t satisfied. I’m pretty sure they’re just anxious and wanna be the first people to know what we’re doin’ next.

Yeah, it’s not just the leakers, but your fans are unbelievably hungry for OsamaSon music. In a way, it’s flattering.

It’s flattering and frustrating, not gonna lie. It’s a lot more flattering. I used to work a 9-to-5, bro. People used to judge me. I used to check people into hotels.

Has that level of fan engagement this early on in your career been overwhelming at all?

Nah, I’m not gonna say I feel like I deserve it, but I always felt like I was meant for this life. I didn’t have plans on doing anything else. Like, it’s fire, man. This is exactly what I want, even with the leaks and stuff. When I was a kid, seeing [Playboi Carti] get leaked, or Uzi get leaked and s—t — those are the greatest of our generation. Literally the greatest, you feel me?

So that s—t was inspiring! Like, “Yo, everybody wants to hear his s—t. Like, this is crazy! When they gonna start leaking my music? That’s when I know I’m up!” Then it started happening, and I was like… did I really want that? But I kinda did, when I was a kid! The little me is looking at me right now like, “Yo, you wylin’, bro!”