Feid: The Life Story Behind Colombia's Reggaeton Star

Medellín, a Musical Home and a Boy Called Salomón

Feid was born Salomón Villada Hoyos on 19 August 1992 in Medellín, Colombia, a city that would shape his sound, his slang and his sense of who he was making music for. Medellín in the 1990s was a city in the middle of remaking itself. The violence that had defined its international reputation was receding, and a new generation of young people was growing up with music, football and street culture as the centre of daily life. Salomón grew up inside that change, in a household where music was not a distant dream but something present and ordinary. He has said in interviews that he was drawn to songs early, humming melodies and paying attention to the words in a way that other children did not, and that his family encouraged the interest rather than treating it as a distraction from school.

Medellín gave him two things that would stay with him for the whole of his career. The first was the sound of the city itself: reggaeton pulsing from buses and shops, salsa and vallenato at family gatherings, hip-hop from the United States arriving through friends and the internet, and the particular Spanish of the Paisa region, with its warm, direct way of speaking. The second was a sense of belonging to a place that was proud and defensive at the same time, a city that knew the world had judged it and wanted to prove the judgement wrong. When Feid later sang about Medellín, he was not using the city as a backdrop. He was writing about home, and the people who heard him in Medellín knew it immediately.

As a teenager, Salomón began to take music seriously as a craft rather than a hobby. He learned piano, studied song structure, and started writing his own lyrics, filling notebooks with verses that tried to capture the way he and his friends actually spoke. He also began to understand that the music business had a side that audiences never see: the songwriters, producers and engineers who build a hit long before a singer records it. That understanding would shape the first decade of his career, because he chose to learn the business from the inside, writing songs for other people, before he asked the public to listen to him as a performer in his own right.

The choice was unusual for a young man with a good voice and stage presence, and it tells you something about his temperament. He was patient. He was willing to be invisible for a while, to let other singers perform his words, while he learned how a song is built, how a studio works, and how the industry decides what becomes a hit. Medellín in those years was becoming one of the centres of Latin music, with producers and studios attracting artists from across the Spanish-speaking world, and Salomón was in the right city at the right time. He watched, he listened, and he wrote, and by the time he stepped forward as Feid, he already knew more about making records than most new singers ever learn.

The Songwriter in the Shadows: Ginza and the J Balvin Years

The first chapter of Feid’s professional life was written in other people’s names. As a young songwriter in Medellín, he worked with the producers and artists who were turning the city into the capital of reggaeton, and his words began to appear on records that travelled far beyond Colombia. The most important of these early credits was “Ginza”, the 2015 single by J Balvin that became one of the defining reggaeton songs of the decade. Feid was among its writers, and the song’s success put his name on the radar of everyone in Latin music. “Ginza” was smooth, confident and instantly memorable, and it showed that the young writer from Medellín understood the balance of rhythm and melody that makes a reggaeton record work on the radio and in the club.

Working with J Balvin was an education in itself. Balvin was, by the middle of the 2010s, the biggest reggaeton star in the world, a Medellín artist who had taken the sound global without losing his Colombian identity. Feid watched how Balvin chose songs, how he worked with producers, how he handled fame, and how he stayed loyal to Medellín even as his audience became worldwide. The two men came from the same city and the same generation, and the relationship was part mentorship and part friendship. Balvin trusted Feid’s ear, and Feid learned from Balvin’s judgement, and the songs they made together carried the sound of Medellín to audiences that had never been to Colombia.

Feid also wrote for other major artists of the period, including Nicky Jam, and his reputation as a songwriter grew steadily. Songwriting is the least visible job in popular music, and the least thanked, but it is where the money and the craft live. A songwriter who can deliver a chorus that millions of people remember is valuable to every singer in the business, and Feid was becoming that kind of writer. He has described those years as a period of constant work, writing in studios across Medellín, testing melodies, rewriting verses, and learning to accept that a song he loved might be recorded by someone else, or not recorded at all.

There is a temptation to treat the songwriting years as a waiting room before the real career began, but that would miss the point. Those years made Feid a better singer, because a songwriter who has written for other voices understands what a song needs from the person singing it. He learned economy, the art of saying more with fewer words, and he learned melody, the art of writing a tune that a listener can carry away after one hearing. When he finally began to record his own songs, he was not a beginner trying to find his voice. He was a professional who had already helped to define the sound of his generation, and who was now ready to claim it for himself.

Que Raro, 19 and Stepping Into the Spotlight

Feid’s debut as a recording artist in his own name came with “Que Raro”, released in 2016 and featuring J Balvin. The title means “How Strange”, and the song was a smooth reggaeton track about a relationship that does not make sense but feels right anyway. Balvin’s presence on the record was a signal to the industry: the biggest star in reggaeton was publicly backing his friend and collaborator, and the audience should pay attention. The song did well in Colombia and across Latin America, and it established Feid’s stage name, his sound and his image in a single stroke. He was no longer only the writer behind the hits. He was the man singing them.

The years that followed were a steady build rather than an explosion. Feid released singles, collaborated with other artists, and performed in Colombia and abroad, growing his audience one show and one song at a time. He developed a visual identity built around the colour green, which became so associated with him that fans began to call themselves part of the green world of Ferxxo, his nickname. The nickname itself came from a playful spelling of his name, and it stuck, becoming a brand that fans could wear, chant and recognise instantly. In an industry where image matters as much as sound, the green branding was a clever piece of work, simple enough to remember and distinctive enough to stand out.

In 2019 he released his debut album, titled 19, a reference to his age when he began writing songs seriously, or so the title suggests to listeners who know his story. The album included “911”, a collaboration with J Balvin, and it showed a singer who was confident in the studio and comfortable across the range of modern Latin sounds, from romantic reggaeton to harder-edged trap. The album did not make him a global star overnight, and it was not meant to. It was a statement of intent, a record that said Feid was here to stay, and that he had more to offer than a single hit. Critics in Colombia noted the songwriting, the melodies and the calm confidence of the performances, and the audience responded by streaming the album in large numbers.

The period between 2019 and 2022 was when Feid became a fixture of Latin music rather than a promising newcomer. He collaborated with Maluma, Sech, Justin Quiles, Nicky Jam and J Balvin on the remix of “Porfa” in 2020, a star-studded record that brought together some of the biggest names in the genre. He worked with Karol G on “Friki” in 2021, a collaboration between two Medellín artists that delighted Colombian audiences. Each collaboration added a new audience to his own, and each one taught him something about working with different voices, different producers and different expectations. By the start of 2022, he was no longer asking for a chance. He was giving other artists a chance to work with him.

Ferxxo 100, Hey Mor and the Sound of a Star

The album Ferxxo 100, released in 2022, was the record that moved Feid from successful Latin artist to a name that the whole Spanish-speaking world knew. The title played on his nickname and on the idea of giving everything, one hundred per cent, and the album delivered on that promise. Its standout track was “Hey Mor”, a collaboration with Ozuna, the Puerto Rican star, built around a playful, flirtatious energy that made it an instant favourite in clubs and on the radio. The song’s success showed that Feid could hold his own alongside the biggest names in reggaeton, and that his songwriting, the skill he had learned in the shadows, was now the engine of his own hits.

Ferxxo 100 also included “Feliz Cumpleaños Ferxxo”, a song whose title means “Happy Birthday Ferxxo” and which became an anthem for his fans, played at parties and celebrations across Latin America. The song was a piece of fan service in the best sense, a record that spoke directly to the people who had followed him, using the nickname they had given him and the colour they associated with him. It also showed his understanding of his audience: he knew that his fans did not just want songs, they wanted to feel part of something, and he gave them a song that was theirs. The album as a whole was streamed in huge numbers, and it confirmed that Feid’s moment had arrived.

What made Ferxxo 100 work was not only the hits but the consistency. The album moved between romantic reggaeton, dance tracks and more reflective songs without losing its centre, and Feid’s voice held the whole thing together. He sang with a relaxed confidence, never pushing too hard, never shouting for attention, and the ease of the performances was the result of years of studio work. Listeners who had followed him since “Que Raro” could hear the growth, and new listeners could hear a singer who sounded like he belonged at the top of the genre. The album earned him nominations and awards attention, and it set the stage for the even bigger year that was to follow.

The success of Ferxxo 100 also changed Feid’s life in practical ways. He was now headlining shows, filling venues that had once seemed out of reach, and fielding collaboration offers from artists across Latin music and beyond. He handled the rise with the same calm that had marked his songwriting years, choosing his projects carefully and refusing to dilute the sound that had brought him this far. He has said in interviews that he prefers to work at his own pace, releasing music when it is ready rather than when the industry demands it, and the quality of the work in this period suggests that the pace was the right one.

Luna, Perro Negro and the Global Breakthrough of 2023

If 2022 was the year Feid became a star in Latin music, 2023 was the year he became a global one, and the song that did it was “Luna”. Released as a collaboration with the American producer ATL Jacob, “Luna” was a smooth, late-night reggaeton track built around a melody that listeners could not forget, and it travelled far beyond the Spanish-speaking world. The song reached the Billboard Hot 100 in the United States, a rare achievement for a Spanish-language record, and it was streamed hundreds of millions of times, becoming one of the biggest Latin songs of the year. For Feid, it was the moment when the years of songwriting, the album, the collaborations and the branding all came together in a single record.

The same year brought “Perro Negro”, a collaboration with Bad Bunny on Feid’s album Mor, No Le Temas a la Oscuridad, which translates as Love, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark. Bad Bunny was the biggest Latin artist in the world, and a collaboration with him was both an honour and a test. Feid passed the test, holding his own on a track that played to both men’s strengths, and the song became one of the most talked-about Latin releases of the year. The album itself was ambitious, with twenty tracks and collaborations across the genre, and it showed Feid thinking like an album artist rather than a singles artist, building a world for his listeners to live in rather than a single song to stream and forget.

2023 also brought “La Bebé”, a remix with the Mexican artist Yng Lvcas that became a global hit, and “Classy 101”, a collaboration with the Puerto Rican artist Young Miko that introduced Feid to a new generation of listeners. Each of these songs worked in a different way, and together they showed a singer who could move between styles, partners and audiences without losing his identity. He was not chasing trends. He was setting them, and the rest of the genre was following. The year ended with Feid recognised as one of the defining Latin artists of the moment, a songwriter turned star who had done it without leaving Medellín behind.

The breakthrough also brought formal recognition. At the Latin Grammy Awards in 2024, “Perro Negro” with Bad Bunny won Best Reggaeton Performance, giving Feid his first Latin Grammy. The award mattered because it came from his peers, the songwriters, producers and artists who vote on the Latin Grammys, and it confirmed that the industry saw him not only as a hitmaker but as a craftsman. He had spent a decade writing songs for other people, and now the industry was honouring a song he had made for himself. The win was reported widely in Colombia, where it was treated as a national celebration, and it gave Feid a new kind of standing in the business.

Ferxxocalipsis, Stadiums and the Medellín Homecoming

In 2024 Feid released Ferxxocalipsis, an album whose title played on his nickname and on the idea of an ending that is also a beginning. The album continued the sound of Mor, No Le Temas a la Oscuridad, with collaborations and melodies that showed a singer at the peak of his confidence. It was not a reinvention. It was a consolidation, a record that said the breakthrough of 2023 was not a lucky year but a new level, and that Feid intended to stay there. The album performed strongly on streaming platforms, and its songs became fixtures of his live shows, where audiences sang every word back to him.

The live shows of this period were the most spectacular of his career. In December 2024, Feid performed stadium shows in his home city of Medellín, headlining the Estadio Atanasio Girardot in front of tens of thousands of fans, in concerts that were widely reported in Colombian media as a homecoming. Playing a stadium in your own city is the highest honour a Latin artist can receive, and doing it in Medellín, the city that had watched him grow from a teenage songwriter into a global star, gave the shows an emotional weight that went beyond the music. The concerts featured guest appearances, elaborate staging in his signature green, and a setlist that moved from “Que Raro” to “Luna”, telling the story of his career in a single night.

The Ferxxocalipsis tour took him across Latin America, the United States and Europe, playing venues that would have been unimaginable when he was writing songs in Medellín studios a decade earlier. He has spoken about the responsibility of representing Colombia on those stages, and about the pride he feels when audiences in Madrid, Miami or Mexico City sing his Medellín slang back to him. The touring also showed his stamina as a performer: long sets, high-energy shows, and a connection with the audience that comes from years of performing rather than from a single viral moment.

Through all of this, Feid has kept his base in Medellín and his sound rooted in the city. He has not moved to Miami or Los Angeles, as many Latin stars do, and he has not changed his Spanish to suit a broader market. The decision is deliberate, and it is part of why Colombian audiences remain so loyal to him. He is theirs, and he knows it, and the stadium shows in Medellín were his way of saying so in the loudest possible way. The homecoming was not the end of the story. It was a statement that the story begins and ends in Medellín, wherever the music travels in between.

The Green World: Ferxxo, the Fans and the Brand

One of the most distinctive things about Feid’s career is the world he has built around his nickname, Ferxxo, and the colour green. The green is everywhere: in his album covers, his stage design, his merchandise, and the clothes his fans wear to his concerts. It began as a simple visual choice, a colour that stood out in the crowded world of Latin music, and it became a badge of belonging. Fans who wear green to a Feid concert are not just dressing up. They are saying they are part of something, and Feid has encouraged that feeling at every step, from the title Ferxxo 100 to the birthday anthem “Feliz Cumpleaños Ferxxo”.

The branding works because it is built on something real. Feid’s music is warm, direct and unpretentious, and the green world reflects that: it is fun rather than glamorous, welcoming rather than exclusive. He has spoken about wanting his concerts to feel like a party rather than a ceremony, and the fans respond by treating his shows as celebrations, singing along, waving green lights and turning the venue into a single colour. That kind of fan culture cannot be manufactured by a marketing team. It has to grow from the music and the personality, and it has grown because Feid has been consistent about who he is.

The fan relationship is also personal in a way that is unusual for a star of his size. Feid is known for interacting with fans on social media, for acknowledging the people who have followed him since the early days, and for keeping his concerts accessible to the audiences that made him. He has not become distant as he has become bigger, and that closeness is part of why the fan base has grown rather than shrunk. In an industry where stars often lose touch with the people who first loved them, Feid has kept the connection, and the loyalty he receives in return is the reward.

The green branding also has a business logic. In the streaming era, an artist needs to be recognisable in a fraction of a second, on a phone screen, in a playlist, on a poster, and a single colour does that work better than a complicated logo. Feid understood this early, and he has used it consistently, so that a green square on a streaming platform is now enough to tell a fan that a new Feid record has arrived. It is a small detail, but it is the kind of detail that separates artists who are managed from artists who manage themselves, and Feid has always been the second kind.

Writing for Others, Singing for Himself

The thread that runs through the whole of Feid’s career is the relationship between writing and performing, and it is worth following carefully, because it explains why his songs work the way they do. Most singers perform songs that other people write. Most songwriters never perform at all. Feid has done both, and the combination gives his records a quality that is hard to copy. He writes like a singer, which means he writes melodies that feel good to sing, and he sings like a writer, which means he understands what every word is doing and why it is there.

That double skill is visible in the way his choruses are built. A Feid chorus is rarely complicated. It is a simple melody, a direct sentiment, and a rhythm that invites the listener to join in, and the simplicity is the result of years of practice rather than a lack of ambition. He has said that a song should be easy to remember and hard to forget, and his best work meets that standard. “Luna” is the clearest example: a melody that sounds inevitable, as though it had always existed, and lyrics that say exactly what they mean. The ease is deceptive, and it is the product of a songwriter who has written hundreds of songs and learned which ones survive.

The songwriting years also gave him a professional network that most singers never build. He knows the producers, the engineers, the writers and the executives of Latin music, not as a fan but as a colleague, because he worked alongside them when he was unknown. That network is part of why his collaborations work so well: he is not calling a stranger and asking for a favour. He is calling a friend and making a record together. The collaborations with J Balvin, Karol G, Ozuna, Bad Bunny and Young Miko all carry that feeling of ease, and the audience can hear it in the finished songs.

There is a final point about the writing that matters. Feid writes in the Spanish of Medellín, with its slang, its humour and its directness, and he has never diluted it for a broader audience. That choice could have limited him, and in a different era it might have. But in the streaming era, audiences around the world have shown that they want the real thing, in its original language, and Feid’s success is proof of it. He writes what he knows, in the words he grew up with, and the world has come to him. That is the most encouraging lesson of his career for any young songwriter working in a language the industry has told them to leave behind.

My Take:

What I admire most about Feid is the patience, and I want to be specific about what that patience looked like, because it is easy to praise patience in the abstract and hard to practise it when you are young and talented. He spent years writing songs for other people when he could have been chasing his own fame, and he did it because he understood that the craft comes first. I think about how many young singers would have made the opposite choice, releasing their own records before they were ready, and I think about how many of them disappeared. Feid did not disappear. He waited, he learned, and when he finally stepped forward, he was ready in a way that a newcomer never could be. That is the lesson I take from the first half of his career, and it is a lesson that applies far beyond music.

The songwriting years also change how I hear his hits. When I listen to “Luna”, I do not just hear a catchy reggaeton song. I hear a man who has written hundreds of choruses and knows exactly how much weight a melody can carry, and who has learned to leave space in a song so the listener can enter it. The song sounds effortless, and that effortlessness is the product of a decade of work that the audience never saw. I find that genuinely impressive, because the music industry rewards the appearance of ease and rarely acknowledges the labour behind it. Feid’s labour is invisible in the finished record, and that is precisely why the record works.

I also think his relationship with Medellín is the most important thing about him, more important than any single song or award. He could have moved to Miami, as so many Latin stars do, and he could have softened his Spanish and his references to suit a broader market. He did not. He stayed in Medellín, he sang in the Spanish of the Paisa region, and he built a global career without leaving home. That is a political choice as much as a musical one, and I mean that in the best sense: it says that a Colombian artist does not have to become less Colombian to succeed, and that the world is ready for the real thing. I think young artists in Medellín, and in every city the industry has overlooked, should take courage from that.

The green branding is something I keep coming back to, because it is clever in a way that is easy to miss. A colour is the simplest possible brand, and Feid has used it with total consistency, from album covers to stage design to the clothes his fans wear. I admire the discipline of that, because it would have been easy to change the image every year, to chase a new look with every album. He did not. He picked a colour, he stuck with it, and he let the fans make it theirs. That is not a marketing trick. It is a form of respect for the audience, a way of saying: here is the sign, and if you wear it, you belong. The stadium shows in Medellín, with tens of thousands of people in green, are the proof that the idea worked.

The Latin Grammy win for “Perro Negro” matters to me for a specific reason: it was an award for a song he made with Bad Bunny, the biggest Latin artist in the world, and he held his own on it. Collaborations with bigger stars can swallow a smaller artist, and the audience remembers the famous name and forgets the other one. That did not happen here. Feid’s voice, his writing and his presence are all over that record, and the award recognised the song, not just the star power. I think that is the test of a collaboration, and Feid passed it. He has passed it repeatedly, with J Balvin, with Ozuna, with Karol G, and each time he has come out of the collaboration with his identity intact and his audience larger.

I also respect the way he has handled the business side of his career. He writes his own songs, he understands his own publishing, he knows the producers and the executives as colleagues rather than as gatekeepers, and he releases music at his own pace. That independence is rare, and it is valuable, because it means he does not have to say yes to things that do not fit. I think about the artists who are pushed to release an album every year, to chase every trend, to be everywhere at once, and I think about how tired their work sounds. Feid’s work does not sound tired. It sounds like a man who is making the records he wants to make, when he wants to make them, and the audience can hear the difference.

What I take from the Ferxxo 100 period is a picture of an artist who understood his moment and used it well. The album was not a lucky accident. It was the result of years of writing, collaborating and performing, and it arrived at exactly the right time, when Latin music was ready for a new leading voice and Feid was ready to be that voice. “Hey Mor” and “Feliz Cumpleaños Ferxxo” are not just hits. They are statements, songs that say: I am here, I know who I am, and I know who my audience is. I find that confidence attractive, because it is not arrogance. It is the calm that comes from knowing the craft and trusting the work.

The 2023 breakthrough still impresses me when I think about it in full, because it was not one song. It was four or five songs, all in the same year, each one working in a different way: “Luna” with ATL Jacob, “Perro Negro” with Bad Bunny, “La Bebé” with Yng Lvcas, “Classy 101” with Young Miko. Most artists would be happy with one of those in a career. Feid had them all in twelve months, and he did it without changing his sound or his identity. I think that is the mark of a songwriter at the top of his game, a man who had so many good songs ready that the year could not contain them. It also tells me that the breakthrough was not luck. It was a dam breaking after years of pressure building behind it.

I want to say something honest about the stadium shows in Medellín, because they are the image I keep returning to. A boy from Medellín, who started by writing songs in studios in that city, standing in the Estadio Atanasio Girardot in front of tens of thousands of his own people, all of them in green, all of them singing his words back to him: that is not just a concert. It is a homecoming, and it is the kind of moment that justifies a whole career. I think about what it must have felt like for his family, for the producers who worked with him when he was unknown, for the friends who heard those first notebooks of lyrics. It must have felt like the city itself was saying thank you, and like Feid was saying it back.

There is a lesson here for anyone who makes things for a living, and it is about the value of being useful before being famous. Feid was useful to J Balvin, to Nicky Jam, to the producers of Medellín, long before he was famous himself, and that usefulness built him a reputation, a network and a skill set that fame alone could never have given him. I think young artists should hear that clearly: being useful is not a lesser thing than being famous. It is the foundation of fame that lasts, because the people you were useful to remember you, and they come back to you when you are ready. Feid’s career is proof of that, and it is proof that the slow road is not the boring road. It is the road that gets you there in one piece.

I also think about what Feid means for Colombia, and I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that he matters beyond music. Medellín spent decades known around the world for violence, and the generation that grew up after that violence has had to rebuild the city’s reputation one song, one film, one football match at a time. Feid is part of that rebuilding. When audiences in Madrid or Miami or Mexico City sing his songs, they are not thinking about the old Medellín. They are thinking about the music, and the music is the new Medellín. That is a real contribution, and it is one that no marketing campaign could have achieved. It took a songwriter, a singer and a decade of work, and it worked.

If I were recommending Feid to a new listener, I would start with “Luna”, because it is the song that opens the door, and then I would go straight to “Perro Negro”, because it shows what he can do alongside the biggest star in the genre. After that I would play “Hey Mor”, because it is pure joy, and then “Feliz Cumpleaños Ferxxo”, because it explains the green world and the fans in a way no biography can. That is my honest path through his work, and I think it gives a new listener the four corners of the story: the melody, the ambition, the fun and the fans. Everything else is a deeper exploration, and it rewards the effort.

What I expect from Feid next is more of the same, and I mean that as a compliment. I do not expect him to reinvent himself every year, because he does not need to. I expect him to keep writing songs that are easy to remember and hard to forget, to keep collaborating with the artists he respects, to keep playing stadiums in Medellín and arenas around the world, and to keep the green world growing. The career has a shape now, and the shape is strong, and the most interesting thing about it is that it still has room to grow. I will be listening, and I expect to be surprised, because the pattern so far is that the best song is always the one he has not released yet.

I also think the “La Bebé” remix deserves more attention than it usually gets, because it shows something specific about Feid’s judgement. The original song belonged to Yng Lvcas, a younger Mexican artist, and Feid could have treated the remix as a favour or a side project. Instead he treated it as a real record, brought his best writing to it, and helped turn it into a global hit. That generosity is a pattern in his career: he lifts the people he works with, and the rising tide lifts him too. I admire artists who understand that collaboration is not a competition, and Feid has understood it from the start, back when he was the songwriter helping someone else’s song become a hit.

There is one more thing I notice about Feid, and it is the absence of noise around him. He does not court controversy, he does not pick fights in public, and he does not turn his private life into content. In the Latin music industry, where drama often sells as well as songs, that restraint is a choice, and it is a choice that has served him well. The audience talks about his music, not about his arguments, and the music is strong enough to carry the conversation on its own. I think that is the healthiest relationship a star can have with fame, and I think it is one reason the career has lasted and will keep lasting.

Finally, I want to say why this story stays with me. It stays with me because it is a story about a man who learned a trade properly, who was useful to others before he asked others to notice him, and who never forgot the city that made him. That is not a glamorous story, and it does not make a good headline, but it is an honest one, and honesty is what lasts. When the charts change and the trends move on, the songs will still be there, and the green crowds in Medellín will still be singing them. That is the measure of a career, and Feid has already passed it.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is Feid’s real name and where is he from?

His real name is Salomón Villada Hoyos, and he was born on 19 August 1992 in Medellín, Colombia. He performs under the name Feid and is also known by the nickname Ferxxo.

Did Feid really write songs for J Balvin before becoming famous himself?

Yes, Feid worked as a songwriter in Medellín and was among the writers of J Balvin’s 2015 hit “Ginza”. He also wrote for other artists, including Nicky Jam, before stepping forward as a recording artist with “Que Raro” in 2016.

What is Feid’s biggest song?

“Luna”, his 2023 collaboration with ATL Jacob, is widely considered his biggest song, reaching the Billboard Hot 100 and becoming one of the most streamed Latin songs of the year. “Perro Negro” with Bad Bunny and “La Bebé” with Yng Lvcas were also major global hits in the same year.

Has Feid won a Latin Grammy?

Yes, he won Best Reggaeton Performance at the Latin Grammy Awards in 2024 for “Perro Negro”, his collaboration with Bad Bunny from the album Mor, No Le Temas a la Oscuridad.

Why is the colour green associated with Feid?

Green is the signature colour of his Ferxxo brand, used on album covers, stage design and merchandise, and his fans wear it to concerts. It became a badge of belonging for his audience, most visibly at his stadium shows in Medellín.

Which Feid album should a new listener start with?

Start with Ferxxo 100 from 2022, which includes “Hey Mor” and “Feliz Cumpleaños Ferxxo”, and then listen to Mor, No Le Temas a la Oscuridad from 2023, which includes “Perro Negro” and “Luna”. Together they show his rise from Latin star to global hitmaker.