Future: The Life Story Behind Rap's Trap Star

Kirkwood, Atlanta: Where Nayvadius Wilburn Grew Up

Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn was born on 20 November 1983 in Atlanta, Georgia, and grew up in the Kirkwood neighbourhood on the city’s east side, a place where music was not a hobby but a language spoken on every corner. Atlanta in the 1980s and 1990s was building the sound that would soon take over American rap, and the young Nayvadius was standing close enough to hear it being made. His cousin was Rico Wade, one of the founders of the Dungeon Family collective, the group that produced Outkast and Goodie Mob, and through Wade the boy from Kirkwood got a look inside the rooms where Southern hip-hop was being invented. He was not a child prodigy with a piano in the living room; he was a teenager hanging around studios, watching, listening, and learning how a beat is built before he ever thought of building one himself.

School did not hold him for long, and the streets of Kirkwood offered their own education, one that would later fill his lyrics with details no songwriter could invent. He has spoken about selling drugs as a teenager and about the friends he lost along the way, and those stories are not decoration in his music, they are the material itself. The name he first recorded under was Meathead, a nickname from his neighbourhood, and the early tapes he made under that name were rough, local, and largely unheard outside Atlanta. What mattered was that he was learning to write, learning to ride a beat, and learning that his voice, a low, drawling, slightly slurred instrument, could carry a melody as well as a rhyme. The Atlanta rap scene of the 2000s was full of voices, and his was different: slower, sadder, more melodic than the shouty trap that surrounded it.

The Dungeon Family connection gave him something most Atlanta teenagers never got: a door. Rico Wade brought him into the studio, and by the late 2000s Wilburn was writing hooks for other artists, including a contribution to YC’s 2011 hit Racks, and learning the unglamorous side of the business, how a song gets from a notebook to a radio station. He changed his stage name to Future, a name that sounded like a promise, and in 2010 he began releasing mixtapes under it, starting with 1000 and following with Dirty Sprite and True Story. The mixtapes were free, they circulated hand to hand and download to download, and they built a local following the way Atlanta careers have always been built: one neighbourhood at a time, one club at a time, until the whole city knew the name.

Pluto and the Arrival of a New Sound

Future’s debut studio album, Pluto, arrived in April 2012 on Epic Records, and it announced a rapper who did not sound like anyone else on the radio. The album featured the singles Turn On the Lights, Same Damn Time and Neva End, and it reached the top ten of the Billboard 200, a strong debut for an artist who had been a mixtape name a year earlier. What listeners heard was a new kind of trap music: beats built by producers like Mike Will Made It and Sonny Digital, full of space and menace, with Future’s voice floating over them, half-sung and half-rapped, using Auto-Tune not as a crutch but as an instrument. Turn On the Lights, in particular, showed the melodic side of his writing, a love song wrapped in a trap beat, and it became a radio staple that proved he could make a hit without raising his voice.

Pluto also established the pattern of Future’s career: relentless output, constant collaboration, and a refusal to wait for permission. He toured, he recorded, and he kept releasing mixtapes between albums, including F.B.G.: The Movie with his Freebandz crew, and he appeared on other artists’ records constantly, lending his voice to songs by Rihanna, Lil Wayne and many more. The second album, Honest, released in April 2014, featured the single Move That Dope with Pharrell Williams, Pusha T and Casino, and it showed him trying to balance the street sound of the mixtapes with the pop polish a major label wanted. The album sold well and reached number two on the Billboard 200, but Future himself seemed restless with it, and the records that followed would be the ones that defined him.

The real turning point came in 2014 and 2015, when he released a run of mixtapes that many critics now call the greatest hot streak in modern rap. Monster, released in October 2014, was dark, paranoid and brilliant, with production from Metro Boomin and Southside that sounded like a city at 3 a.m. Beast Mode, released in January 2015, was a collaboration with producer Zaytoven that stripped the sound down to piano and pain. And 56 Nights, released in March 2015, was named for the 56 nights his DJ, Esco, spent in jail in Dubai, and it was recorded in a burst of urgency that listeners could feel in every bar. These three tapes, released within six months, remade his reputation: he was no longer a promising newcomer, he was the most exciting rapper in America.

DS2, Drake and the Top of the Chart

Dirty Sprite 2, universally known as DS2, arrived in July 2015, and it was the album that turned a hot streak into a reign. It debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, his first chart-topping album, and it contained songs that have since become standards: Where Ya At with Drake, Stick Talk, Blood on the Money, and the closing track Codeine Crazy, a long, woozy, confessional song that many fans consider his masterpiece. DS2 was not a pop record and it did not try to be one; it was a trap album made with the confidence of an artist who knew his audience would follow him anywhere. Critics praised its cohesion, its production, and the honesty of its writing, and it has since appeared on lists of the best albums of the 2010s.

Two months later, in September 2015, Future released What a Time to Be Alive, a collaborative mixtape with Drake, and the pairing was a perfect match: Drake’s polish against Future’s grit, Drake’s hooks against Future’s melodies. The mixtape debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, giving Future two chart-topping releases in two months, and its single Jumpman became a cultural moment, its title borrowed from the Jordan shoe logo, its beat instantly recognisable in clubs and stadiums. The collaboration also began one of the most productive partnerships in modern rap, with the two artists appearing on each other’s records for the next decade, and it showed that Future could stand beside the biggest star in the world without shrinking.

The next two years were a flood. Evol, released in February 2016, debuted at number one. Then, in February 2017, he did something no artist had ever done before: he released two albums in consecutive weeks, Future and Hndrxx, and both debuted at number one on the Billboard 200. Future was the trap record, Hndrxx was the R&B record, and together they showed the two sides of his talent, the street rapper and the melodic singer, in a single fortnight. Mask Off, the flute-driven single from Future, became one of the biggest songs of 2017, reaching the top five of the Hot 100 and becoming a fixture of that summer. No rapper in America was working at his pace, and no rapper was working at his level.

The Wizrd, High Off Life and a Second Decade

After the twin albums, Future kept moving, releasing the collaborative mixtape Super Slimey with Young Thug in late 2017, the album Future Hndrxx Presents: The Wizrd in January 2019, and the collaborative project Wrld on Drugs with Juice WRLD in October 2018, a record made in a burst of sessions between two artists at the peak of their powers. The Wizrd, which featured the single Crushed Up, debuted at number one, and it showed a rapper settling into his thirties with his skills intact: the flow was still unpredictable, the melodies were still strange and beautiful, and the writing was still full of details that only he could provide. He also won his first Grammy in 2019, for Best Rap Performance, for his appearance on Jay Rock’s King’s Dead, a song that also featured Kendrick Lamar and James Blake.

High Off Life, released in May 2020, arrived in the middle of the pandemic, and its lead single, Life Is Good, featuring Drake, became one of the biggest songs of the year, reaching number two on the Hot 100 and spending months on the chart. The album debuted at number one, his seventh, and it featured appearances from Travis Scott, Lil Uzi Vert, Young Thug and many more, a roll call of the generation he had helped to create. The pandemic years slowed his touring but not his recording, and he kept releasing, including the mixtape Save Me in 2019, a seven-track EP that showed a more vulnerable side, with songs about heartbreak and regret that sounded nothing like the trap anthems he was famous for.

In April 2022 he released I Never Liked You, an album that debuted at number one and produced his first number-one single as a lead artist: Wait for U, featuring Drake and Tems, a song built around a sample of Tems’s Higher that became one of the biggest records of the year. Wait for U won the Grammy for Best Melodic Rap Performance in 2023, his second Grammy, and it proved that a decade into his career he could still make a song that sounded like the future. The album also featured the single Puffin on Zootiez and appearances from Kanye West, Gunna and Young Thug, and it confirmed that Future’s ear for a hook had not dulled at all.

Metro Boomin, Kendrick Lamar and the 2024 Comeback

In March 2024, Future reunited with producer Metro Boomin, his most important collaborator since the Monster days, for the album We Don’t Trust You, and the record became one of the biggest events of the year. Its lead single, Like That, featured Kendrick Lamar, whose verse, widely heard as a shot at Drake and J. Cole, ignited one of the most talked-about rap feuds in years and sent the song to number one on the Hot 100. The album itself debuted at number one, and three weeks later the pair released a second album, We Still Don’t Trust You, which also debuted at number one, giving Future two more chart-topping albums in a single month, seven years after he had done the same trick with Future and Hndrxx. The two albums showed that the partnership with Metro Boomin was still the most potent in his career, and that Future, at forty, could still set the agenda for the whole genre.

Later in 2024 he released Mixtape Pluto, a solo mixtape that debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, his eleventh chart-topping album, and it sounded like a return to first principles: dark beats, long verses, melodies that drifted in and out of focus, and a rapper who sounded completely at ease with himself. The mixtape’s success proved that the audience that had found him on DS2 was still there, a decade later, and that his sound, which had once been called strange, had become the default language of American rap. Producers across the genre now build beats in the style he and Metro Boomin invented, and young rappers now sing the way he sang, which is the surest sign of influence there is.

Beyond the albums, Future has built a business. His label, Freebandz, has released music by artists he mentored, including Young Scooter, and he has invested in ventures outside music. He has also become a fashion figure, appearing in campaigns and on runways, and his style, a mix of streetwear and high fashion, has been copied by a generation. The Kirkwood teenager who once recorded under the name Meathead is now one of the most successful rappers in American history, with more than a dozen number-one albums and a catalogue that runs from Pluto to Mixtape Pluto without a break.

The Sound That Changed Rap

Future’s sound is built on three things: a voice, a feeling, and a producer. The voice is low, melodic and slightly slurred, and it uses Auto-Tune the way a guitarist uses a pedal, to bend notes and stretch syllables until they sound like nothing else on the radio. The feeling is melancholy, even in the party songs: his music is full of late nights, bad decisions, money, drugs, love and regret, and the sadness is what makes the records last, because it gives the listener something to hold on to after the beat fades. And the producer, whether Metro Boomin, Zaytoven, Southside or Mike Will Made It, provides the frame: beats that are spacious, ominous and beautiful, with room for Future’s voice to wander.

His writing is often underestimated because it sounds so casual, but the best Future verses are full of images that stick: a codeine cup, a late-night drive, a phone call that never gets answered, a friend who is gone. Codeine Crazy, from DS2, is the clearest example, a seven-minute song that moves from paranoia to tenderness to resignation without ever raising its voice, and it is the song fans point to when they argue that Future is not just a hitmaker but a writer. The drug references in his music have been controversial, and he has said that the songs reflect a life he lived rather than a life he recommends, a distinction that matters even if it does not settle the argument.

The influence is everywhere. The melodic trap that dominates American rap in the 2020s, from Lil Baby to Gunna to Young Thug, descends directly from Future’s work in 2014 and 2015, and the Auto-Tune singing that is now standard in hip-hop was, when he started doing it, a strange and risky choice. He did not invent Auto-Tune, and he did not invent trap, but he put the two together in a way that nobody had, and the combination became the sound of a decade. That is the definition of an innovator: not the first to do a thing, but the first to do it so well that everyone else has to follow.

Where He Stands Now

As of 2026, Future is one of the most decorated rappers of his generation, with two Grammy Awards, more than ten number-one albums in the United States, and a run of hits that stretches from Turn On the Lights in 2012 to Like That in 2024. He is also, at forty-two, still recording at a pace that younger artists struggle to match, and still setting the terms of the conversation in rap, as the Metro Boomin albums proved. The Kirkwood neighbourhood that raised him is still in his music, and the Dungeon Family studio where he first learned to write is still part of his story, but the audience is now the whole world.

He continues to tour, to record, and to release music through Freebandz, and the next chapter of his career will be watched closely, because few rappers have sustained a peak as long as his. The boy who changed his name from Meathead to Future made a promise with that name, and twelve years after Pluto, the promise still holds: the sound he invented is still the sound of the future, and he is still the one making it.

The Freebandz Years and the Mixtape Habit

One habit explains more of Future’s career than any single album: he never stopped making mixtapes, even after he became a star. Long after Pluto and DS2 had made him famous, he kept releasing free tapes, short EPs and loose singles, and the habit kept him close to the audience that had found him first. The mixtape habit also kept his sound honest, because a mixtape does not have to please a label, a radio programmer or a brand partner, it only has to please the streets, and Future’s mixtapes, from Monster to Save Me to Mixtape Pluto, are where his most adventurous and most personal music lives. The habit is also a business decision: a rapper who releases constantly stays in the conversation, and Future has stayed in the conversation for more than a decade by never going quiet for long.

Freebandz, the label he founded, is the other half of that habit. Named for the idea of freedom, the label has released music by artists he believed in, including Young Scooter, whose street anthems made him a fixture of Atlanta rap, and it has given Future a home for his own releases that no major label could offer. The label is not a vanity project, it is a working company, and it reflects the lesson he learned from the Dungeon Family: the artists who last are the artists who own their work. He has also used Freebandz to mentor younger Atlanta rappers, passing on the same kind of guidance Rico Wade once gave him, and the circle, from Dungeon Family to Freebandz, is one of the most satisfying arcs in his story.

The collaborations that fill his catalogue are a map of modern rap. He has worked with Drake, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott, Young Thug, Gunna, Lil Baby, Kanye West, Rihanna and dozens more, and the list is not a collection of favours, it is a record of who wanted to work with him and when. The Drake records are the most famous, but the Metro Boomin records are the most important, because Metro Boomin is the producer who understands Future’s voice best, and their work together, from Monster to the 2024 albums, is the spine of his career. He has also appeared on pop records, on soundtracks, and on songs by artists far outside rap, and each appearance shows the same thing: a voice that can fit into any song without losing itself.

His influence on fashion and culture runs alongside the music. Future’s style, a mix of designer labels and streetwear, of sunglasses indoors and jewellery that catches the light, has been copied by a generation of young men, and his appearances in fashion campaigns have made him a fixture of a world that once ignored rappers. He has also become a presence on social media, where his lyrics are quoted, his outfits are dissected, and his every move is watched by millions. The fame is not an accident, it is the result of a career built on consistency, and the consistency is the result of a work ethic that has never slowed down.

My Take:

Future is the rapper I think about when people ask me what trap music actually is, because he is the one who turned it from a regional sound into the language of American pop. Before DS2, trap was a style; after DS2, it was the default, and the reason is not complicated: Future found a way to make a trap beat sound sad, and sadness is the emotion that lasts longest in a song. Listen to Codeine Crazy, listen to the verses on Monster, listen to the way his voice droops over a Metro Boomin beat, and you hear a rapper who understood that a hit is not enough, that a song has to hurt a little to be remembered, and that understanding is what separates him from the dozens of Atlanta rappers who came up beside him.

The 2014 and 2015 mixtape run is, for me, the greatest hot streak in modern rap, and I do not say that lightly. Monster, Beast Mode and 56 Nights, released within six months, are three different records with three different moods, and together they show an artist working at a speed and a level that nobody else was matching. Monster is the paranoid one, Beast Mode is the grieving one, 56 Nights is the urgent one, and the fact that he made all three while also recording the album that would become DS2 is almost hard to believe. I think the streak matters because it proves that Future’s best work happens when he is moving fast, when he is not overthinking, when the tape is rolling and the idea is fresh. The albums are great, but the mixtapes are the soul of the career.

DS2 is the album I return to most, and the reason is its cohesion. It is a trap album, yes, but it is also a mood, a single long night stretched across eighteen tracks, and it works because Future and Metro Boomin trusted the mood enough to let it carry the record. Where Ya At, Stick Talk, Blood on the Money, these are songs that work in a club and in a car and on headphones, and Codeine Crazy, the closing track, is a seven-minute confession that no other rapper of his generation could have written. I have heard people call DS2 a drug album, and it is, but it is also a loneliness album, and the loneliness is what makes it last: the drugs are the detail, the loneliness is the subject.

The Drake partnership is one of the most interesting in rap, because the two artists are so different and so well matched. Drake is polished, careful, pop-minded; Future is raw, unpredictable, street-minded, and together they make records that neither could make alone. What a Time to Be Alive is the proof, a mixtape that sounds like a holiday, two stars enjoying themselves, and Jumpman is the proof of its staying power, a song that was still being played in stadiums years later. But the partnership is also a story about influence: Drake, the biggest star in the world, wanted to sound like Future, and that tells you who was really setting the agenda in 2015.

The twin albums of February 2017 are the boldest move of his career, and I still admire the nerve of it. Releasing two albums in two weeks, one trap and one R&B, and having both debut at number one, had never been done before, and it has not been done since. The move worked because it was honest: Future really is two artists, the rapper and the singer, and the two albums let each one have a full record instead of fighting for space on the same one. Mask Off, from the trap album, became the song of the summer, and the R&B album, Hndrxx, gave us some of his most beautiful singing. I think the fortnight is the moment his career stopped being a story about potential and became a story about history.

High Off Life and I Never Liked You are the albums that prove the second decade was not a decline. Life Is Good is a perfect pop-rap record, a song that Drake and Future could have made in their sleep, and it became one of the biggest songs of 2020 because it sounded like joy at a moment when joy was scarce. Wait for U is an even better record, because Tems’s voice gives it a ache that Future’s voice alone cannot reach, and the combination of the three voices, Tems’s sample, Drake’s verse, Future’s hook, is a masterclass in collaboration. The Grammy for Wait for U was deserved, and it was also a reminder that Future, a decade into his career, could still make a song that sounded brand new.

The 2024 Metro Boomin albums are the chapter I find most fascinating, because they show a forty-year-old rapper doing the most consequential work of his career. We Don’t Trust You and We Still Don’t Trust You are not nostalgia records; they are aggressive, current, angry records, and Like That, with Kendrick Lamar’s verse, set off a feud that dominated rap for months. I do not think the feud was the point, though. The point was that Future and Metro Boomin, a decade after Monster, could still make a record that the whole genre had to answer to. That is a rare thing: most partnerships fade, most sounds date, but this one got sharper, and the two number-one albums in a month proved that the audience knew it.

His voice is the instrument I keep coming back to, because it is so strange and so effective. It is low, it is slurred, it is soaked in Auto-Tune, and it should not work as well as it does, but it does, because Future uses the Auto-Tune the way a singer uses vibrato, to bend a note until it expresses something words cannot. Listen to the way he stretches a syllable on Codeine Crazy, or the way he lets a melody dissolve on a song like Neva End, and you hear a vocalist, not a rapper who sings. The voice is also the reason his influence is so wide: young rappers do not copy his lyrics, they copy his sound, and the sound is the voice.

The writing deserves more credit than it gets. Future’s lyrics are often dismissed as simple, or as drug talk, and some of them are, but the best of them are full of images that stay with you: a cup, a car, a phone, a friend who is not there any more. He writes about a life of excess with a sadness that undercuts the glamour, and that tension, the party and the price, is the subject of his best work. I think the criticism that his music glorifies drugs misses the point, because the songs are full of the cost: the paranoia, the loneliness, the mornings after. He is not selling a lifestyle, he is reporting on one, and the report is honest even when it is uncomfortable.

Freebandz and the business side of his career matter too, because they show an artist who learned from the Dungeon Family that ownership is the goal. He has signed artists, he has built a label, he has moved into fashion, and he has done it without losing the sound that made him famous. The Kirkwood teenager who watched Rico Wade build a collective is now building one of his own, and the artists he mentors, the producers he works with, the young rappers who copy his flow, are all part of the same project: an Atlanta sound that started in a dungeon studio and now belongs to the world.

If I were introducing someone to Future, I would not start with the hits. I would start with Monster, then DS2, then We Don’t Trust You, because that sequence shows the arc: the mixtape that announced him, the album that crowned him, the comeback that proved he was still the one to beat. And I would tell them to listen on headphones, late at night, because that is when the music works best, when the beats have room to breathe and the voice has room to wander. Future is not a rapper for the morning, he is a rapper for the night, and the night is where his music lives.

There is a final thing I want to say, and it is about longevity. Most rappers peak for three years and spend the rest of their careers chasing the peak. Future has been at or near the top for more than a decade, from Pluto in 2012 to Mixtape Pluto in 2024, and the reason is not luck, it is work: the mixtapes, the collaborations, the relentless recording, the willingness to try a new sound, the refusal to stop. He named himself Future when he was a teenager in Kirkwood, and the name turned out to be a description, not a wish. The future of rap arrived in 2012, and it is still here, and it still sounds like him.

The mixtape habit is the part of his career I admire most, because it is the part that costs him the most and earns him the least. He could have stopped making mixtapes after DS2, could have released an album every two years and lived off the royalties, but he did not, and the reason is that the mixtapes are where he is free. Monster, Beast Mode, 56 Nights, Save Me, Mixtape Pluto, these are records made without a label’s notes, without a radio single, without a marketing plan, and they are the records that his real fans love most. I think the habit is also a form of discipline: a rapper who releases constantly cannot hide, cannot coast, cannot pretend, because the next tape is always coming, and the audience is always listening.

Freebandz deserves more attention than it gets, because it shows an artist thinking like an owner rather than an employee. The Dungeon Family taught him that lesson, and he learned it well: the label is not just a logo on a record, it is a way of keeping the money, the masters and the decisions in the hands of the people who made the music. Young Scooter’s career, the artists he mentored, the young Atlanta rappers who cite him as a reason they started, all of it is part of the same project, and it is the project that will outlast the chart positions. Future the rapper is a star; Future the label owner is a builder, and builders leave something behind.

The fashion side of his career is fun to watch, because it shows how far rap has travelled since he started. A teenager from Kirkwood who once recorded under the name Meathead is now a fashion figure, appearing in campaigns and on runways, and the transformation is not about vanity, it is about power: the power to be seen, to be taken seriously, to walk into rooms that once closed their doors to rappers. I enjoy the style, the sunglasses, the jewellery, the designer clothes, but I enjoy what it represents more: an artist who refused to stay in the box the industry built for him.

And there is the simple fact of the catalogue, which is now so large that it is hard to hold in your head. More than ten number-one albums, two Grammys, dozens of hit singles, hundreds of features, and a run that stretches from 2010 to 2026 without a break. I have tried to make a playlist of his best songs and given up, because the list never ends, and that is the point: a career this long, this productive and this consistent is rare in any genre, and in rap, where careers are often short, it is almost unheard of. The future he promised when he chose his name is still arriving, and he is still the one delivering it.

What I admire most about Future is the sound itself, because he turned Auto-Tune from an effect into an emotion. The voice on a Future record is not trying to sound perfect, it is trying to sound like a person who has had a long night, and the long night is the point: the slurred melody, the ad-libs that arrive like sighs, the way a hook can feel both triumphant and exhausted at the same time. I think about the mixtape run of 2014 and 2015, Monster, Beast Mode, 56 Nights, DS2, and What a Time to Be Alive with Drake, five projects in about a year, and about how that run changed the sound of rap, because every rapper who came after him, from Lil Uzi Vert to Young Thug to Playboi Carti, learned from the way he made sadness sound like a party, and the party, which is the point, is still going, in every trap record that uses a melody where a verse used to be.

Frequently Asked Questions

Where is Future from and what is his real name?

Future’s real name is Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn. He was born on 20 November 1983 in Atlanta, Georgia, and grew up in the Kirkwood neighbourhood on Atlanta’s east side. His cousin Rico Wade of the Dungeon Family helped bring him into the studio world.

What was Future’s first album?

His debut studio album was Pluto, released in April 2012 on Epic Records. It included the singles Turn On the Lights, Same Damn Time and Neva End, and reached the top ten of the Billboard 200. Before that he had released the mixtapes 1000, Dirty Sprite and True Story.

What is DS2 and why is it important?

DS2, short for Dirty Sprite 2, is Future’s third studio album, released in July 2015. It debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, his first chart-topper, and includes Where Ya At, Stick Talk and Codeine Crazy. Critics now rank it among the best rap albums of the 2010s.

Did Future really release two number-one albums in two weeks?

Yes. In February 2017 he released the albums Future and Hndrxx in consecutive weeks, and both debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, a first in chart history. He repeated the feat in 2024 with the two Metro Boomin albums We Don’t Trust You and We Still Don’t Trust You.

What is Future’s biggest song with Drake?

His most successful collaboration with Drake is Wait for U, featuring Drake and Tems, released in 2022 on the album I Never Liked You. It reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 and won the Grammy for Best Melodic Rap Performance in 2023. Their earlier mixtape What a Time to Be Alive (2015) produced the hit Jumpman.

What happened with Future and Metro Boomin in 2024?

Future and producer Metro Boomin released two albums in 2024, We Don’t Trust You in March and We Still Don’t Trust You in April, and both debuted at number one. The single Like That, featuring Kendrick Lamar, reached number one on the Hot 100 and sparked a widely discussed rap feud.

How many Grammy Awards has Future won?

Future has won two Grammy Awards: Best Rap Performance in 2019 for his appearance on Jay Rock’s King’s Dead, and Best Melodic Rap Performance in 2023 for Wait for U with Drake and Tems.