Yelawolf: Ghetto Dreams [Excerpt From the November 2011 Issue]
07.02.12
“Can I get another cigarette, Zach?”
It’s a ardent September afternoon in Atlanta and Yelawolf is slouched on a settee in a corner of the warehouse-like Crossover Studios, bumming smokes from a photographer. Sporting a button-up shirt, khaki shorts with red truce signs printed on them, slip-on suede shoes and a beanie hat, the lapel rapper has just wrapped rehearsals for a show he is scheduled to function alongside his Shady Records label mates Slaughterhouse three days from now in New York Municipality.
Yelawolf, born Michael Wayne Atha, may bum the odd cigarette. But he isn’t much of a drinker anymore, a truthfully that he seems particularly proud of.
“I don’t drink at all before my shows anymore,” he says. “I hardened to get hammered back in the day…really, 2008 to 2009. I was really getting shitfaced before I went onstage. And it’s solely, like, I can’t rap. Then I feel like shit the next day, and you can only do that for so long before you’re even-handed like, ‘Man!’ There’s just certain lyrics I fair-minded can’t get out, technically, because I’m drunk. You don’t want to be sloppy drunk onstage. That’s not a fresh look.
Source: XXLMAG.COM
