On His New Album, Joyner Lucas Is a ‘Worse Person,’ But Better Off
Joyner Lucas and his team walk into Manhattan’s Sei Less a bit perturbed. After the Worcester, Massachusetts-born artist takes a seat in one of the upscale restaurant’s back rooms, he and his manager, Dhruv Joshi, reveal that they just found out that a friend was using Lucas’ fame to get over on others behind his back. “Am I looking at it wrong, or that’s fucked up?” Lucas asks the room after explaining the situation. We resoundingly agree that what he told us was indeed shady business. Joshi hints that the plot gets deeper with more context, but Lucas laments that he’s done talking about it.
“The whole album was created because of that, the disloyalty with friends and all this shit,” he says, specifically referencing his 2023 “Broski” single, which they credit as one of The Shade Room’s highest-engaged posts of last year. On “Broski,” Lucas takes the perspective of a duplicitous friend, first lauding Lucas for being a great person, but then asking for money, calling him a “greedy motherfucker,” and telling him, “I deserve everything you got.” True to Lucas’ ethos, the song is intensified by a video where the lyrics are rapped by actor-singer Rotimi, who looks like he’s channeling his role as the deceitful Dre from Power.
Not Now I’m Busy, Lucas’ long-awaited sophomore album, which was released today, is largely a reflection on the fallouts he’s had with friends and family since ascending to fame. The album cover displays a bloody Lucas, which he says symbolizes figuratively killing the old him and becoming who he says is a “worse person,” though he says the “worse” traits are simply him instituting boundaries with entitled loved ones. The 17-song project isn’t all missives on the pitfalls of fame; he delves into other topics. On the Jelly Roll-featured “Best for Me,” he explores opioid abuse. “Three Little Pigs” is a story about predacious police that subverts the story of the Big Bad Wolf — and will be paired with a music video, a book, and a mobile-app game where the wolf is chased by the cops.
“It was another way of breaking ground,” Joshi says of the multiplatform strategy. “[Joyner tells me], ‘One thing about the storytelling songs, people watch and then they don’t listen to it, because I’m giving them a director’s experience of watching the concept. They’re not going to find somebody riding around listening to “I’m Not Racist,” but they want to watch that visual, and that’s why it’s got 150 million views.’”
“I’m Not Racist,” which enters the mind of a racist white man, exemplifies how polarizing the Joyner Lucas experience can be. Some lauded the song’s creativity, while others criticized its heavy-handedness. But, if nothing else, being polarizing means being compelling. He tells me “I’m Not Racist,” which he crafted after a motivational conversation with the late DMX (who’s on the album’s “I Didn’t Go”), put him in front of many eyes for the first time and changed his life.
It laid the path for collaborations with Eminem, Lil Baby, Future, and another polarizing rapper: Will Smith. Lucas tells me that he and the legendary actor are cooking up a collaboration project, and that “the streets” specifically will love that he has Smith on “some other shit.” He also worked with the Academy Award-winnning actor on the upcoming film Bad Boys 4, which he says was a “mindfuck” in a good way. The gig comes after Lucas was personally cast by Mark Wahlberg for his movie The Family Plan, signaling an expansion from music-video visuals to the big screen. It’s part of what may take him to new levels of fame.
What are some things that happened that inspired the theme of betrayal?
It’s a lot of just high-level betrayal. Family [and] friends. It’s [not] new to me because it’s things that I’ve dealt with before, but it’s like you deal with it on a different level, the more successful you get.
When you say you feel like you just got successful, at what point did you feel—
In the sense like I just started really making money. A lot of the perception was when you coming up and working with Eminem and Chris Brown that you already made it. I was still in my grinding phase. I still hadn’t touched a million dollars when I did those records. I still haven’t made it. But the perception to the outside world is that I already did make it and I already was good. And now it’s like, when I don’t do certain shit, then it’s just like, “Oh, you don’t want to give this to me, or you don’t want to do [that for me].”
When you actually do have money and are actually able to do things, you experience it really on a different level because now niggas get to see your possessions. They get to see what you’re doing. And it’s like, then you really feel the entitlement and you really start losing people, you know?
Where are your relationships at with a lot of these people that—
Oh, they’re done, the more I become less-tolerant of it. And this album really is about growing backwards. A lot of people grow forward and they have a lot of self-revelation and become a better person. But this album is [about] becoming the worst due to the traumas. You see the blood on my face [on the album cover]; it’s about killing the old me to now become the new me, but the new me isn’t necessarily a better version. The new me is just a more fed-up version. The new me is a “Fuck you,” right?
How do you navigate the benefits of success with the stress of entitlement and falling out with people?
It’s the good and the bad. There’s pros and cons to everything. You got the success, you got everything you wanted. But you don’t have those things that was intact. The friendships, the family that you thought you had, the love that was once there, the things that you thought was real until you became successful. And then you realize that you don’t really have that anymore.
You’ve obtained a certain amount of wealth and then all these people are gone. Now it’s like, “OK, are you really happy?” “I’ve got this mansion, but is it really fun? Are the people I want to be in this mansion with me here?” No, but then you start thinking, “Do I want them motherfuckers here?” No, because it’s not real. I don’t hate them. I just know that they have no place in my life. And it’s like, damn, that’s fucked up. It could never be. That’s the cost of it, though.
How cathartic was writing these feelings out for you?
When I wrote “Broski,” that shit was mad therapeutic. I felt like the people that needed to see it, seen it. I felt like the people that needed to see “Broski” saw it. And I felt all of the feedback, the comments, the shares, and the likes, so now I had the world agreeing with me. If you were indeed a Broski, you would feel like a piece of shit about yourself without me telling you “You’re a piece of shit.” That shit was everywhere. It got fucking 50 million views on the Shade Room itself. [437,000] shares, 300,000 comments. The Shade Room itself went nuts. YouTube kind of fucked me a little bit, but it did what it was supposed to do. The record did what it was supposed to do: It got shared by everybody. I don’t know how that didn’t get Grammy-nominated, but whatever.
Do you feel overlooked?
I always said that if I am, then that’s my fault. I don’t think anybody sits there and be like, “We’re going to underrate this guy.” If you’re underrated, it’s your fault. It just means I’m not doing something right, something’s not adding up. I got to figure this shit out because it doesn’t make any fucking sense. I think that there’s more that I could be doing to change that conversation.
What do you think are some of those things?
Cracking the algorithm code, the YouTube algorithm, the Facebook algorithm, the Instagram algorithm. Brand partnerships. I’ve never done a brand partnership before. Those things help artists catapult to different levels. I haven’t done that. I haven’t even tapped into that shit yet. Going on tour more. These are things that I kind of stay away from, but I know that I need to be doing more to change the narrative, be more in your face.
I saw last year that you were working on an album and—
Changed it.
Yeah.
I don’t feel like the album represented what I wanted to represent. It was a current sound I was going for, but it wasn’t timeless. It wasn’t something you could pop in five, six years from now and bump. I felt like the sound would’ve been died down by now.
Was trying to sound more current about you seeking mass appeal?
Yeah, I feel like I definitely took a lot of missteps with a lot of the releases. You’re trying to capture a different audience, so you want to capture more fans. So you’re trying to step outside of your realm to do that. But at the same time, you’re not being very conscious of who you’re collaborating with. I took off a lot of the features that I had on there. It’s just, kind of save it for a different time. And I started from the drawing board all over again. And once I did that, you got “Broski.” That was the authentic me, my real, authentic feelings.
I also saw that part of that process was you receiving feedback from listeners that the music wasn’t what they expected from you.
I agree with them because I didn’t really know if I liked that neither. It was me just experimenting. It felt wrong. But [I was like], “Maybe it’s just something I don’t get right now. Maybe it’s something that people get it and then they’ll fuck with it and then I’ll grow into it.” But then when I’ve dropped it, the feedback was everything that I already felt. So it was a confirmation.
Previously, when you would take chances artistically, how often would you have that gut feeling that it wasn’t going to work or it wasn’t what you wanted it to be?
I just have a certain feeling, man. But sometimes those feelings are off. I had “Isis” sitting in my computer. I was about to put that shit on the shelf. I played it for this motherfucker [Dhruv], he was like, “Whoa, what was that? This shit is crazy.” I did “Ramen & OJ,” recorded it, put that shit in the closet, and then I had another record that I was going to get Lil Baby on, and I played that shit for Dhruv. He was like, “I don’t know if this is it.” I said, “Well, I did some other shit yesterday, but I don’t like it”. I click play, [and Dhruv’s like], “Listen bruv, that’s fucking gone bro. That’s fucking gone, bruv. Trust me innit.” [Laughs]
He thought “Rambo” was going to be my biggest record. I told him, I said, “Nah, man, ‘Rambo’ is not going to be. ‘Rambo’ is a dub. Sometimes we be wrong, bro.”
How important is fan feedback in general to you?
They’re very important. A lot of artists say, fuck that shit, do what you want. But I’m like, man, fuck that, nigga. I want to make sure the base is happy. Sometimes I’m going to do [something] that they’re not going to fuck with. But the majority of the album can’t be 90%, 80% what the core don’t want to hear. The [previous] album started sounding like that.
The most tedious part is the writing process. It’s like, bro, that shit takes a lot. Sitting there, really writing and thinking of shit to do because a lot of this is real innovative shit. Writing at a different level of storytelling shit.
I’ve always been trying to chase. I always wanted to be in movies or in these epic music videos. I just didn’t have the budget and I had the resources. So I always felt like if build you it, they will come. And that’s exactly what happened. You use your abilities and catch the attention of a Will Smith, and then now all of a sudden you’re in Bad Boys 4.
What was it like on a major movie set?
When you’re on a movie set, they have the control. I have all the control in my shit. I determine when I’m taking a nap, when I’m going on a break, what I’m shooting, when I’m shooting, where we’re shooting. On a movie set, you got to wake up at five, base camp at six, hair and makeup at seven, eight o’clock breakfast, nine o’clock wait, 10 o’clock wait, 11 o’clock wait, 12 o’clock wait, one o’clock shoot. All the way up until eight, nine o’clock at night and then back to your room and you get a little bit of sleep and go back. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Very different.
What were some of the most memorable experiences on a set?
I live in the moment, as I’m talking to Will and Martin and they’re talking to me, I’m having an out-of-body experience. I’m just like, “damn I’m talking to fucking Will and Martin. I was at home watching these two motherfuckers on TV. I’m in a fucking movie with them.” My mind goes back to me as a kid watching Fresh Prince in front of the TV, to now the Fresh Prince telling me how to act and it’s a mind fuck.
When you collab, do you like to write in the studio together?
I think back in the days it was like that. Now we have the luxury of doing shit over the computer, which is way more convenient for everyone. [I was in the studio with Timbaland], recording a bunch of random shit that he wanted me to do. That was different.
Did you learn anything from that session?
I learned how to put the shit together. He had three or four people in the studio at the same time and one dude was on the key, another dude was on the guitar, and they were just making beats one after another.
Dhruv: He had the whole process set up like a factory where it could be recorded and they’re throwing them sounds and stuff together. They might have five beats already created out of that one inspirational session of him recording.
You recently released “Best For Me” with Jelly Roll. How did that idea come together?
Me and my engineer found the sample, and crafted a beat around it. It went through a bunch of different phases. I knew that I needed somebody to re-sing the hook. I know Jelly played a major part in the whole opioid crisis movement, it just made sense. I hit him up [and] he just happened to be a big fan of mine. We now have a beautiful friendship, some other records in the pipeline, and did the video.
How did you put together “I Didn’t Go” with DMX?
I spent some time with him. Went out with him a few times, played some pool. We actually had a dope conversation that led to me creating “I’m Not Racist.” I was explaining my frustrations with Atlantic Records and the record companies and he was telling me how it works and how you pretty much got to create your own fucking movement. You got to create some groundbreaking shit. “I’m Not Racist” is born right after that. That record changed my life forever.
There was also a line on that song: “I’m an overthinker that over plans.” How do you manage being an overthinker?
I go to sleep when I think too much. When I’m in a creative space, I just want to sleep. Because it really takes a lot out of me. You’re using so much brain power trying to come up with shit, that shit drains me. And then you still got to have time to spend with your kids.
That’s interesting. Because I know some artists glorify being up till 6:00 AM not sleeping.
Nah, hell no. I need to sleep. I take my naps and shit, then I’ll be up. It’s five o’clock nap time and you know it because I’ll start getting cranky. Dhruv would be like, “what time is it, bro? Go take a nap.” Let’s get this guy some fucking food and some nap.
I saw that you and Will Smith were working on a collaboration album at one point. Is that still in the works?
Yeah, me and Will are always creating. We’ve got a lot of records actually. There’s a lot of records that we’ve done. I love working with Will. He’s an amazing guy for sure. At some point we’ll be dropping some shit.
What’s he like in the studio?
Same guy you see on The Fresh Prince.
How underrated do you think he is as a rapper?
Yeah, I mean it was in that era. He made pop-rap music [when] it was about gangster rap. So if his music isn’t respected by niggas, then it’s because of that. But them records were huge, bro. Huge fucking records. ”Miami.” “Men In Black.” I’m talking like that was his pop-rap shit I was talking, you know what I mean? That’s what I would consider the pop-rap shit.
So I’m assuming y’all aren’t on pop-rap vibes?
I got him on some other shit. People going to fuck with that. The streets are going to fuck with this shit.
I heard a rumor that there’s a song where he’s talking about the Chris Rock shit.
Nah, he didn’t talk about the Chris Rock shit. When me and him recorded it was way before the Chris Rock shit even happened. After that happened it put a stop on our shit because he needed time.
Do y’all have a general timeframe of when fans might be able to expect something from y’all?
I think after Bad Boys comes out, maybe, yeah.
How do you feel about the perception that DSPs are devaluing music?
I feel like they could pay more. We’re the creators of it. I do feel like the artists should get paid more, for sure. The people who are creating the music should definitely get paid more than what they’re getting paid.
Would you ever consider releasing your music in a direct-to-consumer model?
I feel like at some point, yeah, I feel like I might try it, see what happens, see what comes out of it. It might work, it might not work, but I feel like it’s worth a try.
Can you tell me about “Three Little Pigs” and your plans with it?
It’s about police brutality. There’s [also] a game that I have called the “Three Little Pigs,” it would consist of three little police officers chasing the black wolf. We in the tech space, so we always trying to do some cool tech shit.
[Dhruv:] When he did the video, he said, what else can we be doing to take this to the next level? The traditional thing is the audio, video, merch. And then [it] usually ends there. This was an opportunity to go from audio, video, merch, game. And nobody’s ever intersected all of those things together. The song is about three police officers and the three pigs are the police officers, and the wolf. And then those are the characters in the music video and in the game.
What do y’all hope that kids take away from the “Three Little Pigs” book?
Joyner: I don’t know.
[Dhruv:] If you show it to a teacher or someone, they’re going to be like, this isn’t appropriate for kids because you’re telling them that the police officers are pigs. And which I get, but then here’s the thing, we’re talking about these three specific police officers. And so if you’re a racist and you abuse your power, then you are a pig. So we’re talking about you three. Most art is disruptive. It’s so geniusly written, it’s clean. There’s no cuss words. My daughter’s eight years old, can watch it. And she’s like, “they don’t like the wolf because the color of their skin. That’s why they pulled him over, even though he said he had his license.” And they can follow the whole narrative of the whole story as a kid in rap and about a real political subject matter.