It’s a really good song, not only because of the strong message, but also because HOODLUM’s mumbly, leaned-out rap-sing sounds naturally chopped and screwed and gives his memories the feel of a melancholic dream sequence. On his standout tapes, such as 2023’s Southside Story and last year’s Brown in America, with the simmering, sample-heavy Texas funk of his go-to producer, bigtexjohnny, as the backbone, HOODLUM uses his flow—which, on occasion, is nearly inaudible—to dig into nostalgic, hardened scenes of hustling, getting high, and hanging with friends and family amid fears of death and going broke.
And “Better Dayz (Freestyle),” isn’t the first or last time HOODLUM has tackled political turmoil head on. A few years ago, after the end of the the first Trump administration, he wrote “B.I.A (Brown in Amerikka),” where, in a groove that recalls the heyday of G-funk, he sang, “And it was all good ’til ICE started rolling through the hood,” alongside stories of drug deals and crooked cops. The song’s video apparently got him his first YouTube strike. Then, this week, following the protests against ICE in Los Angeles that led to President Trump sending in the National Guard, and ICE’s ongoing sweeps at court hearings and on college campuses in San Antonio, he dropped a snippet of new song “Burn It Down” on his Instagram account. “Say they coming for us, they can’t take us all,” he says, fired up, over a gloomy piano riff. It’s not a protest anthem, just a moment of rage and confusion that comes from watching your hometown get torn apart.
One evening, earlier this week, I had a FaceTime conversation with HOODLUM. He smoked and spoke candidly while kids played in the background. We chatted about Texas rap, the effect ICE has had on San Antonio, and his role as a marquee rapper from a city that doesn’t have too many, especially in a social media climate where information is buried by algorithms looking to push and normalize the ultra-conservative political agendas of Silicon Valley and the Trump administration.
Pitchfork: What’s the main difference you’ve noticed between living in Houston and living in San Antonio?
HOODLUM: Houston is more mixed. In my neighborhood, there’s only, like, one other Mexican family. Everyone else is white, Black, Arab, or Asian. Where I’m from on the southwest side of San Antonio, it was either Black or Mexican. It’s small and big at the same time, and everyone is really together.
I know a large portion of the Black population came to San Antonio after Hurricane Katrina, so did you have a big local scene growing up?
Not really, but there was some. There was this guy named J.Randle. There was King Kyle Lee and Liveola. Sometimes Chamillionaire would come down from Houston and go to the flea markets on the southside, sign people, and throw them on CDs. But it was never a big scene; it was always on the backs of Houston.
Did you grow up listening to a lot of Houston rap?
Some, but my first CDs were probably OutKast’s Southernplayalistic and that one AZ album [Doe or Die]. I always wanted to go to New York. I liked 2Pac. Wayne. Bankroll Fresh. A lot of Latin music, too. I liked stuff with a lot of samples. I always wanted to sample stuff like Curtis Mayfield, the Isley Brothers, and Sunny Ozuna.
What’s the last song you heard that you thought would make a cool sample?
Probably Frank Sinatra, “Jesus Is a Rock.” There’s this one part that I feel like me and John [aka producer bigtexjohnny] could make really dark, turn it into some “I Feel Like Dying” type shit.
Who are your favorite Texas rappers of all time?
Z-Ro, because of the melodies and beat choices. He would rap on fuckin’ Sade or whatever. Devin the Dude, I’d always listen to his Greatest Hits (Screwed). He’s the one person I really want on my next album.
Where does your flow come from? The slow, croakiness of it is so extreme. Was that directly inspired by anyone?
At first, it kind of just happened and I started just pushing it even further. But I was really into Wayne and I just started trying to drag my voice out as long as possible over all these Curtis Mayfield samples or whatever.
I can see that, especially the Wayne of Tha Carter III sessions or even a tape like Dedication 3 when he just sounds so gone.
One of my favorite Waynes is when he rapped on “Dear Summer,” or the era when he was really into New York. That’s part of why I liked New York so much.
You mention New York a lot, but one thing I’ve always liked about your writing is that I feel like I have some sort of image of San Antonio without ever having been there. Is that intentional?
It’s just all I knew. I didn’t know anything outside of San Antonio until my music started blowing up and, all of a sudden, I was in, like, Europe and shit, Norwegian kids rapping my lyrics, tripping me the fuck out. I’m just documenting my life, and people don’t always pick everything up because I’m rapping so slow, but, if you catch it, I’ll be saying some shit. Like “Brown in Amerikka,” I wrote that years ago just because they [ICE] would just be in the neighborhood everyday from the morning ’til 4 o’clock. We would know not to answer the door.
Does writing about what’s going on politically in your neighborhood come naturally to you?
At first, not really, because it was never something I did intentionally. I would just be writing what’s going on in my head. Like, I remember we couldn’t even have holidays—Thanksgiving, Christmas, July 4th—because those are the days they would come gather up your whole family. It was just fucked up.
How’d you get better at writing about it?
I liked how Wayne did it when Katrina hit. Like “Georgia… Bush” isn’t just rapping your ear off about it the whole time. It’s still a Wayne song. So now whenever I do get into politics, I make sure that it still sounds like my songs.
