Cultur

Young Thug Speaks About His New Album and Life After Jail

The Atlanta rapper reveals new details about his two and a half years of detention and his latest album, UY Scuti, in an exclusive interview and GQ Video Cover Story.

In October of last year, the rapper Young Thug walked free from the Fulton County Jail in Atlanta, concluding one of the strangest and most fraught spectacles in modern music. Since breaking out in the early 2010s, Young Thug has defined the sound of Atlanta rap—which means he’s defined the sound of rap music in general. His roving, restless voice; his out-of-this-world sensibility and out-of-this-world style; his playfulness—all of this has led him to the very top of his genre and his industry. He’s sold a lot of records and influenced a lot of other artists.

Then, in May of 2022, he was arrested as part of a complex RICO case. Georgia prosecutors alleged that Young Thug, in addition to being the head of a record label, YSL, was also one of the leaders of a criminal street gang of the same name. What followed was the longest criminal trial in Georgia history. By the time it was done, Young Thug had spent almost two and a half years in jail before accepting a non-negotiated plea deal in which he pled guilty to six charges (including participating in criminal street gang activity and possession of drugs and firearms) and no contest to two others. The terms of his probation were onerous and strict: The rapper would not be allowed to return to Atlanta, except for certain specific reasons, for the first 10 years of his probation; he was also forbidden from promoting gang activity or knowingly being around gang members.

Since getting out, Young Thug has mostly laid low, to the point of sometimes wearing a mask in public. He has not said much about the last few years of his life, or about anything at all, really. Until now. Earlier this month, I met the rapper in a strange, taxidermy-filled house on the Eastside of Los Angeles for a GQ Video Cover Story. The plan was to talk about where he’d been and where he was going. He’d spent time in the studio in Miami and Los Angeles, making a new album called UY Scuti, named after one of the biggest-known stars in the universe. What I heard of it was subtly different from the music he’d been making before. His voice was clearer. His feelings—exhilaration, love, hurt, anger—were right on the surface.

And then, just moments before we were supposed to start talking, news broke that Georgia prosecutors were seeking to revoke Young Thug’s probation over a social media post that he’d made. At the time, details were scarce. But the renewed threat to his liberty felt urgent and real. For whatever reason, he decided to do the interview anyway. (“I feel really great,” he told me, not entirely convincingly. “Happy. Enjoying life.”) That night, we talked for several hours. The next day, a judge denied the prosecutors’ motion to send Young Thug back to jail, and that evening, Young Thug was courtside at a Lakers game.

What follows are edited selections from our conversation—a snapshot of an uncertain and very chaotic moment in time in a life that has been uncertain and chaotic for many years now. For much of our interview, Young Thug wore a mask: chain mail, basically, hiding his face. “Only scientists can see UY Scuti,” he said when I asked why he’d covered his face. “I don’t feel like people should see me. I mean a scientist could maybe reconstruct it, do something with the mask and get a clear picture. But I just feel like—hidden scars, and just hiding things.”

GQ: Okay, but there’s got to be a vibe or a spiritual feeling or something that is channeling you into this place.

Young Thug: I just feel big. I feel like I’m one of the biggest stars. I did a lot: founding this culture and the new rap game that’s happening right now. I just feel like I’m out of this world.

Was there a moment when that realization arrived?

Yeah, I was actually in court. I was on trial. And I just started looking around the courtroom like, Damn, there’s a lot of people in here. It’s cameras. It’s the longest trial in Georgia history. And even just the things that the judge said when it was over for me. The judge was just like, “Yo, you got to realize who you are.” My lawyer, Brian Steel, he always told me every day, like, “Bro, you got to know. You got to know.” And then me just sitting in the cell every night alone, it was just kind of like, “I’m big.” I always was popular. I was always the big bro, even in my neighborhoods and things, so I’ve never looked at it. I didn’t grasp how it is now because I always was like that.

Is that a crazy feeling to be like, I’m this big and I’m also in a cell?

I think I’m too big for jail. But I think I’m not too big for God, so God could put the biggest person in there. I feel like I’m taller than the jail, but he somehow could just squish me in there. I think it was like a God thing. Just showing me situations, real friends and who you with, who is with you, and how to move and how to be.

Tough to feel bigger than the jail when you’re in the jail.

For sure. It’s just like I was treated, how the officers treated me. It’s just like, Damn, I don’t got no bitches here. Like, the fucking officers who work in the jail are fans. They’re 20 years old. It’s like, Damn, you’re a kid! Telling me what to do. Which is not a bad thing. My kids tell me what to do; my girl, everybody tell me what to do. But to actually just sit like—Why I’m on punishment and you guys are my parents? You’re like parenting me and telling me like, “You the fucking one, bro! What’d you say on this song?”

And I’m sure in that moment you’re like, Am I ever going to get back the thing that got me here, my career, my ability to make records all day?

I feel like when you’re genuine and you’re really artistic and just all around fire, it really can’t end for you. I don’t think it’ll end unless I end it. I don’t think people will ever get tired of me unless I’d be like, “All right, I’m tired of making music.” Just retire. I don’t think it’ll get to the point where people are like, “Yo, it’s over with.”

But there maybe was a moment when you’re like, I can’t serve the desire that people want?

I still was kind of serving it, though. Just being free, even behind walls. And just being happy and going to court and there’s cameras in the court and people just seeing me and it’s like, “All right, he don’t look like he’s stressed. He don’t look like this. He don’t look like that.” I think God put me in there for a reason. And I’m still trying to figure it out. I always felt like I was a good guy, so it was like, “Why do I got to go to jail for you to show me something? Why you just can’t tell me?” I guess I was just hardheaded. And I think I love people so much to the point where the only thing that’ll make me not love you anymore, or just dislike you, is betrayal. Like real-life betrayal. When your life is depending on it.

Is that something you felt like was happening?

Betrayal happen every day. Absolutely. You know that. I mean, you got to ask. I feel betrayed. I feel fucking jaded. It’s crazy.

Does it feel good to be standing here right now?

Absolutely. To be out. But I would talk on the phone with my lawyer—he got houses in the mountains. He’d show me, so I’d be still kind of seeing the scenery. It was two-and-a-half years, though. Going from this to a jail cell is nuts.

What can you say about the experience of being incarcerated for more than two years?

It was real. Don’t want to deal with it again, but definitely it was real.

Were there moments when you wondered if you would ever get out?

For sure.

In those moments, are you thinking about yourself, your family, your career? Where does the mind go?

Family. Kids. Career was, like, last. That was irrelevant.

I think it would be human to feel, in that situation, like: A great injustice is being done to me. Did you ever feel that way?

Absolutely. Every day. Innocent man.

It ended up being the longest criminal trial in Georgia history, which speaks to how crazy those circumstances were. Did it feel personal?

Yeah, of course. But shit, we made it back.

You may be constrained in what you can say and not say, but you ultimately did decide to plead guilty to six counts. Was that a difficult decision?

Absolutely. Just pleading to something you know that you didn’t do is crazy. But you get a chance to keep fighting. [You can] worry about the jury’s fate, or you [can] just go ahead now and go home. It’s like shit. Go home.

You had lyrics of yours used against you in court. How’d that feel?

It felt kind of crazy. And cool. Because it’s like, “Oh, everybody listen to me.” But crazy. Like, the First fucking Amendment is freedom of speech. Well, third or fourth, but the top five. And we’re talking about lyrics?

If I understand correctly, part of the terms of your probation, there’s certain things you can’t talk about on records now, right?

I can’t do nothing like gang things or stuff like that on the internet. I can really talk about what I want to talk about in music. I normally rap about cool things. I just got a few lyrics where I just rap about street stuff and those are the lyrics that they tried to use against me. But most of the time I don’t rap about that type of stuff.

Does that experience make you think twice about rapping about street stuff?

Yeah, because just the impact that you got on the community, the youth. Not because of the law. More so just like realistically kids actually listen to us. Like, all right, we got to dumb it down some. I listen to new rappers now and I’m like, “My kid can’t listen to that.” So I’d be like, Damn. So contradictory.

What have you been doing since you got out?

Working on my album. Did a little partying. But mainly just working on my album, chilling with the kids, chilling with my girl, chilling in the studio, linking up with other rappers. Just doing the normal.

Your girl is Mariah the Scientist—are you guys on the couch watching shows?

Absolutely. Sometimes you got to come get me from where I’m at though. Sometimes I don’t want to go home.

She was in court supporting you. She’s also on your album, on a song that’s so raw and confessional that I wondered if you guys thought twice about letting other people hear it.

Nah, it’s music. People all over the world going through that. As an artist, that’s your job. What else is there to talk about? You want to talk about clothes and shoes or you want to talk about real things that people could feel forever?

There is a great tradition of songs about clothes and shoes, too, to be fair.

Oh, for sure. Sometimes you got to do that, too. I do that to keep people up to par on what to wear. So the young guys that’s looking up to me that want to know what coat this is and what thermals these are, those guys could be like, “Oh, this is what it is.”

You have a big family, I know you guys are close—are you still able to be around them? I ask because, if I understand correctly, part of the terms of your probation are that you can’t go back home to Atlanta except under certain specific circumstances.

Yeah. Only for certain things.

Do you miss it?

Yeah, it’s home. I was already out of Atlanta before this case, though. I’ve lived in LA since 2017. So I wasn’t in Atlanta anyway.

Do you feel like you’re in exile?

Absolutely. Can’t go home. It’s crazy.

What does that feel like?

It just feels like abuse.

Before all this happened, I think Atlanta was like the center of rap culture. Do you think it still is?

Absolutely. We create the wave. We got other places that’s popping for sure. Everybody’s popping now. But everybody still sound like Atlanta or move to Atlanta or rap about Atlanta. You got artists from a whole other place rapping about Atlanta.

Even if you’re not there, I assume you still feel like one of the leaders of that city.

One of the guys that plowed Atlanta into the rap industry, yeah.

Who else would you put in that category?

Future. [21] Savage. Lil Baby. Migos. Tip [T.I.]. André 3000. Gucci [Mane].

That’s the Mount Rushmore right there.

We got a lot of kings in Atlanta. There’s more, too, but just off the top, those people.

Have you kept up with rap in general? What do you think of the current state of the art? It felt like while you were away, it was sort of dominated by this Drake-Kendrick Lamar thing—I don’t know if you have a side in that, I know Atlanta got dragged into it by Kendrick.

Yeah, he just spoke on people’s name in Atlanta. I don’t know what that was about. I’m a Drake fan.

Do you feel rap music in general is in a good place?

Yes. I think the numbers could be better. A lot of people are rapping about the same thing and nobody is bringing anything colorful. A lot of people wasn’t bringing something that you can actually watch. You can enjoy the music and enjoy the things that they do, but we used to make movies. I think now it’s just quick. You got to get back to movies, you got to get back to where people respect it.

Why do you think they went away from that in the first place?

Because it was just a big wave of nothingness running the game. It was just a big wave of super simple videos, not really high-priced videos. That wave came in really strong, so even the people that was doing high-priced videos, they started doing regular videos because that’s what was popping. But I think now we did it so long to the point where we comfortable with that and we don’t want to do stuff like this no more. That take time.

You mentioned your own new record earlier, UY Scuti. Did making music feel the same as it felt before?

It came easy. I never lost it. Nothing. I never lost it. I listened to music in jail and I listened to music sometimes in court and things like that, so I never lost it. I was still up to par on what was going on for the most part.

Did it feel like making other records the way it would’ve felt in 2016 or 2021?

No, it is a whole different feeling for sure. Because you’re just in court fighting for your life. And now you’re in a studio at home surrounded by love and beats.

One thing I noticed about the record is you can really hear every word. You hear your voice. It’s high in the mix. Was that deliberate?

I’ve told my manager: I just want to make music where you can actually hear me. Because I always talk that shit, but sometimes you can’t hear it. Sometimes you’re like, “What are you saying?” So it’s like now, I feel like I’m a new artist. I feel like I just came in the rap game again.

What do you remember about your early days as an artist?

Just being happy and free.

I’ve heard interviews where you talked about kind of bruising, early encounters with the industry. Your deal with Gucci Mane, who first signed you, was kind of weird, right? Or even Lyor Cohen, who signed you to 300 Entertainment—I’ve heard you say that one started out difficult too, right?

Yeah. Because we just didn’t know each other. We ended up being good friends.

Did you hold those dealings against them later on?

When I was younger, yeah, because I just didn’t realize people’s point of view or way of hustling. Now I have some of those similar ways of hustling and points of view, so now it’s just like, “Oh, okay.” The more I got bigger, the more I realized. Because even when we got cool, I still didn’t understand some of it. Even when we got cool, me and Lyor got supercool. He my mentor. Even when we got supercool, I still didn’t understand some of the things that I felt like he did back then. But now it’s just growing older and owning the record label and doing things like that. It’s like, “Okay, cool.” You get it.

Did you make a point with your label of maybe doing things differently with artists than the way that people dealt with you?

I don’t really be taking money from my artists and stuff like that. I just like to help people. Sometimes it costs and sometimes you just lose, but it really don’t matter.

One of those artists was Gunna. You guys did a ton of songs together. He was very successful on your label. He was arrested about the same time as you. I think a lot of people wonder what that relationship is like now.

Yeah, I know. Everybody wondering that.

What’s it like?

I don’t know.

I guess that’s its own form of answer, right?

You like to plow deep into things, huh?

Yeah, I’m a pro.

So that whole speech you gave me earlier, like, “Yeah, I’m new to this shit.” All that shit was just cap?

Oh no—I was telling you I’m new to the cameras. The interviewing I’m not remotely new to.

Okay—I thought you was going to lie. Because I saw you a few times interviewing.

Those are the only ones I’ve done on camera! Do you have bigger ambitions for the label going forward?

We just pushing positivity. And just going for the gusto. We’re trying to just kill the whole rap game and just do it big and just help people in general. Help society, help the communities we from, and just be so great.

People around you have made it sound like you have more than just a label these days.

Sports agency. I’m shooting a movie, documentary, clothing brand. It’s a lot of things moving.

Speaking of sports, did you see the NFL banned the “nose wipe” celebration?

Oh wow. They can’t wipe their nose? No, I ain’t see that. That’s crazy.

When you first started out, people would make a big deal of the fact that you wore a dress on the cover of an album, or that you’d call somebody “lover” or whatever. In retrospect, were you trying to be provocative, or was that just naturally the way you came up?

I think it was just making people mad. Provocative to a man is crazy. I think I was just doing it, just making people mad.

Where’d the idea come from?

I don’t know. A lot of my ideas just come from UY Scuti—just come from fucking space.

Now, when people write the history of this era, they give you a ton of credit for bringing that super-melodic trap sound to the mainstream of rap. Is that the way you would tell the story?

I’m the first to do it. Well, I don’t know. I always think that I was the first to do things, but then I see history and it’s just like, Damn, they did that. It’s crazy.

A lot of that early music you made as part of the supergroup Rich Gang, with Rich Homie Quan. Why did that partnership end?

I think we just grew and became our own bosses and men, and then we just didn’t want to keep doing the Rich Gang albums. We were getting bigger, so it’s like I wanted to do my own shit.

You wanted to do your own thing?

I think he did. I was okay with it, because I feel like I love music, but I don’t care about songs. So I’ll have a number one hit record, song, and I’ll put you on it. I don’t care. It’s just like, so whoever goes to the top with you, go to the top. I don’t care. I never was the guy that cared about that type of stuff. So I would’ve been okay with just keep doing it. We still was dropping our own music at the same time as doing that, so it’s just like it really was bigger. But I guess everybody couldn’t see that. So people just do things. Make mistakes.

When you listen to music now, do you hear your influence?

Absolutely. Don’t want to say everything—the crazy part is I can’t say that everybody do something that I did because it was a lot of things that I did in the beginning that somebody else did, but I never knew they did it. I just did it.

What’s an example of that?

Wearing a dress. I never saw nobody wear a dress. Then soon as I did, people were like, Oh, André 3000, this and that, and this guy and this guy and this guy did and this guy did it. So I can’t say people’s flows or people like rhythms and things just 100 percent come from me. I think that it can. You hear some shit and you’re just like, “Yeah, for sure—me for sure. You never sounded like that,” or “You never rap like that.”

What about style? Do you see your influence in that?

Yeah, of course. I might do something that’s supercool like this and then somebody will do something that’s not like this, but you wouldn’t have even thought to do what you did if you didn’t see me. You might not do what I did or nothing close to what I did. But that headspace definitely came from seeing me. I wore skinny jeans when everybody wore big jeans. I just never liked long chains back then. I got a lot of long chains now, but back then I never liked long chains, so I was probably the first rapper ever cutting chains. But I see old videos from like ’94, ’93 with Tupac, and he’s got on a short chain. So it’s like, Damn, I thought I was the first person doing it.

Where is it going next? I think people watch you pretty closely.

I’m just like one of the people that just opened those doors for us. People probably was scared to wear a dress until me. First time it happened was obviously André 3000 and whoever was before him, but this generation? This fucking time? I’m the person for that.

I think it would be natural to want things to be the way they were before all this stuff happened—are you okay if it’s different now?

Yeah. Because it’s different for better. It’s like—I’m smarter, I’m older, I know what jail feels like. I know what thoughts, betrayals, I know what everything feel like. And I know how to go forward.

I don’t think anybody would opt for two years in jail, or the longest criminal trial in Georgia history. No one would choose to go through that. But do you feel at peace with that experience at this point?

I felt at peace with it when I was going through it. It’s just the probation part that’s kind of stupid to me. But yeah, I felt peace the whole time. I wasn’t stressed at all. I really was chilling. I guess I just knew subconsciously that wasn’t the end for me because God got bigger plans for me.

So you felt peace then. How do you feel now?

I feel peace. Absolutely. I feel more peace now. You can move with almost nothing over your head. You got probation, but that’s really nothing. I’m not going to violate probation. It’s just like almost fully peaceful. Once probation is over, then it’s like, okay, cool.

Then it’s full peace?

For sure.

And until then?

Ninety percent.

But maybe we’ll take ninety percent.

Absolutely. I’ll take ten percent peace.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

PRODUCTION CREDITS:
Director: Cole Evelev
Director of Photography: Carter Ross
Editor: Robby Massey
Talent: Young Thug; Zach Baron
Producer: Sam Dennis
Line Producer: Jen Santos
Production Manager: James Pipitone
Production Coordinator: Elizabeth Hymes
Talent Booker: Tracy Shaffer
Steadicam Operator: Greg Gustafson
Camera Operator: Jon Corum; Taylor Frontier
1st Assistant Camera: Adam Lee
2nd Assistant Camera: Jacob Mariani
Gaffer: Noah Spiece
Key Grip: Jack Motter
Swing: Kevin Shum
DIT: Lauren Worona
Sound Mixer: Justin Fox
Production Assistant: Spencer Mathesen; Lily Starck
Make-up Artist: Hee Soo Kwon
Hairstylist: Christy Ivory
Production Designer: Cedar Jocks
Post Production Supervisor: Jess Dunn
Post Production Coordinator: Rachel Kim
Supervising Editor: Rob Lombardi
Assistant Editor: Fynn Lithgow