![]() “In the beginning, it kind of frustrated me,” he explains. Without mentioning any of the aspirants to his throne by name or slighting them, A Boogie demands deference from these younger rappers. ![]() The acknowledgment of influence doesn’t necessarily imply theft as much as it does a shared awareness and similar inputs. It would be easy to accuse these rappers of biting, but the trained ear of young New York rap fans can hear the subtle differences between these artists who combine singing and rapping, and who often employ Auto-Tune to wax poetic about heartbreak and street life over melancholy piano keys and a booming low end. Look no further than the typical New York City public school kid’s playlist for evidence of his reach, or to the music coming from up-and-comers like fellow Bronx denizen Lil Tjay, A$AP Mob’s Smooky MarGielaa, and Brooklyn’s Jay Gwuapo for evidence of his influence. In the past five years, he’s ascended the ranks from a random rapper on SoundCloud to one of the most influential stylists in NY rap. Though he would never give himself the title, an argument could be made that A Boogie is the current holder of rap’s contested “King of New York” title-at least for his generation of artists. He asks no one in particular: “How much do you think a space like this in this building costs?” intimating that he’s looking for a hideaway where he can create and chill-a fortress of solitude away from distractions. ![]() Unlike his serious-as-cancer bodyguard, A Boogie-born Artist Dubose-is cordial and even demure as he takes in the view of the Statue of Liberty and the Hudson River from a 40th floor window. Today, Boogie’s crew only consists of essential personnel: a member of his Highbridge record label team a towering, expressionless bodyguard his affable publicist and a childhood friend turned personal assistant who helps him hunt for snacks around the office. But he is not with the typically inflated team of handlers and hangers-on one would expect to accompany a platinum-plus rapper. Yes, he’s on-brand-wearing a black hoodie beneath a shiny red Moncler puffer, with custom Elliantte jewelry clanking on his chest as he moves. On a frigid January afternoon in lower Manhattan, A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie strolls into Pitchfork’s office in One World Trade Center with a relatively small entourage.
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