Yugoszn Is Just Getting Started

The first time Yugoszn realized people were actually listening to his music, he was walking out of his house. “Someone came up to me and was like, ‘Yo, that song is mad.’ And i’m there asking, ‘Which song?’” he laughs. “It was a track I had made on my phone, just playing around. My brother heard it. My mom liked it. Next thing, people in my neighbourhood were talking about it. That moment? That was the switch. I knew I could really do this.”

He’s speaking to me over a video call, eyes bright with the kind of fire you only see in someone who knows they’re onto something real. Yugoszn—rapper, singer, producer, storyteller—is building a world, and it all started with Lionel Richie tracks on a Saturday morning. “My parents weren’t artists,” he confesses. “But they loved music. You’d wake up on Saturday to Lionel Richie or Michael Jackson, and you just knew, it’s time to clean the house. Sundays? Gospel in the morning, Celine Dion in the evening. That definitely shaped me.” It’s the kind of memory you can tell he’s replayed in his head a few times. Not out of nostalgia alone, but gratitude. “Even though it wasn’t intentional, it influenced me. Music became a safe space. A place I could just be me.”

There’s a long list of artists who influenced Yugoszn’s musical DNA. Michael Jackson tops it, naturally. “Sometimes I watch his performances and I’m like… the way people just faint when he’s on stage, the aura, the energy, it’s unreal. He’s a legend.” but it was Eminem who opened the door to rap. “I literally started rapping because of him. I’d hear him go fast and I’d be like, ‘Can I do that too?’ So I tried. Next thing, I’m making verses. That’s where the madness started.” He laughs, then drops a string of names in quick succession: 2Pac, 50 Cent, J. Cole, Davido, Burna Boy, Wizkid. “They all played a role. Big shout out to them, for real.”

The fear of judgment nearly made us miss the talent called Yugoszn. “If I liked a song I made, cool, I wouldn’t show it to anyone else. But when people started reacting, I knew it was real. That song I made on my phone was the first one I ever uploaded.” That was the start. What followed was a string of moments—some small, some seismic—that began stacking into a real career. Songs going viral on TikTok. Dropping an EP. Getting shouted out by fans in countries he’d never visited. “‘Solitude’ did numbers in China,” he says, eyes wide. “Like 600,000 views on a Chinese app. And I’m seeing China in my Spotify demographics. I’m like, ‘These guys don’t even speak English, how do they get what I’m saying?’ It was crazy.”

When I ask him how he writes, he almost grins. “I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me this,” he says. “It’s chaos. Honest chaos.” Yugoszn creates music pacing around a studio. Melodies come to him mid-shower or on the bus ride home. No notebook. No schedule. Just energy. “When we made ‘Solitude,’ I literally woke up at my producer Salami’s house and he was building the beat. I was just waking up, got in the shower to wash my face, and the melody came out of there with me. The chorus idea? Came to me on the bus ride back home. I recorded it on my phone on the bus. Everyone was looking at me crazy.” There’s no formula. No calculated genius. Just raw instinct and emotion. “That’s art, man. It’s unpredictable. And I love it like that.”

When Yugoszn dropped a verse on a track with Canadian rapper Connor Price, he didn’t expect it to spark a debate about his nationality. The collaboration, which was part of Price’s Spinning the Globe project, was supposed to spotlight Nigerian talent. Instead, some Nigerian listeners doubted his real identity. “They said I wasn’t Nigerian, I was born in Lagos. I’m from Imo State. what do you mean I’m not Nigerian? ” Yugoszn laughs . He leans forward on the call, voice steady but passionate. “Let me just say this to everyone seeing this, I read the comments. On TikTok. On Instagram. Maybe not all, but a good 50%. I see what people are saying.” and even if he doesn’t always respond directly, Yugoszn answers with his music.

By the time Toxic Love dropped, he was already fielding criticism from Nigerian fans who didn’t quite know what to make of him. “I have songs where I literally sing in Igbo,” he explains. “Go listen to ‘Love and Highlife’. I made that with my people in mind. Even some unreleased tracks, I went full Igbo on them too. So when people say I’m not Nigerian, I just laugh.” but it still stings. Not because he feels the need to prove anything, but because he knows how easy it is to be misunderstood when your sound is hard to box in.“I can’t help how I sound,” he says. “It’s a gift. It’s not like I woke up and said, ‘Let me sound international today.’ It just flows that way. I’m just a vessel.”

Rather than clap back, he went to the studio. Toxic Love, a dark, swaggering drill track, was the result. “It was my way of saying, ‘I can do this too.’ You want bars? Cool. Let’s rap.”

A new collaborative project is on the way—a chaotic but beautiful body of work with his friend Mustafa. “We’ve got a song called Friday Fever. It’s about shaking off life’s stress. You listen to it on a Friday after a rough week and just vibe.” Even the way he talks about Friday Fever is cinematic. The excitement pulsing through him is contagious. I couldn’t help but get excited myself. “It’s not just music to me. it’s the universe speaking through us. it’s divine.” He pauses, then adds, “I’m just doing the Lord’s work, man. That’s how i see it.”

As we begin to wrap up, Yugoszn circles back to the fans, the ones who’ve stayed and the ones just tuning in “I get so caught up in the moment and forget to film these bits when we are recording, the ideas—things i know my fans will love.” He smiles. “There’s a lot coming. Even during this call, i’m thinking of a new song i need to finish.” “There’s a lot coming,” he says again. “And I mean a lot. More songs, more moments. More behind-the-scenes. If you’re on TikTok or Instagram, watch closely. You might even hear a track that’s not even out yet.”

Listen to Toxic Love