Lord Sko: The Rapper Who Needs To Be On Your Radar
“Yeah, I mean, I think what makes my shit unique is that I’m just a good rapper, bro. You know what I’m saying?” And it’s true. Lord Sko—the youngest OG, reviver of rap’s Golden Era, and the self-acclaimed apex predator of NYC’s underground scene—is, unmistakably, a great rapper. I caught the 21-year-old at a pivotal time; fresh from his recent tour and soon to release more music, I sat with him at his family apartment in Washington Heights. Over some slices of pizza, we discussed the young rapper’s creative process, career goals, relationship with AI, and most importantly, his favorite sandwich.
I’ll start with that: cream cheese, bacon, and jam on a roll. Don’t hate it until you’ve given it a shot, because it surprised me—savory, sweet, and slightly tangy. Solid 9.5/10.
At a young age, Sko realized he had a talent for creative writing. After noting his poor performance as a math student, he described his relationship with English: “When it was like, time to do like, poetry unit and shit. Like in school, like, I was smoking motherfuckers doors. I was smoking motherfuckers boots out. I think I’m very visual.” Sko’s illustrative bars and melodic beats have led some to describe his style as (in his words) “that 90s shit”—something that Sko takes issue with. Though he finds responsibility and pride in upholding the energy of the Golden Era, Sko also fears being “pigeonholed” by labels. As a young rapper, he’s still constructing his sound and paving his own path—one influenced but not defined by pioneering legends.
As a self-proclaimed “kind of lazy” artist, Lord Sko pointed out the dangers of grinding and treating rap “like a 9 to 5.” His strength as a “lazy” rapper is that his “shit is real and it connects with people because it’s like all reflective of like shit that I see. And not just in the studio making shit up.” Rather than chasing trends or manufacturing stories, Sko pulls directly from his lived experience, letting spontaneity drive his creative process. For Lord Sko, his lack of structure doesn’t represent a diminished ambition – but a commitment to making his art feel genuine and grounded in reality.
When asked about his goals as an artist, Sko saw his future in three stages. First, he expressed his desire to leave a real impact on fans. On his most recent tour, Sko often found himself jumping off stage after his set and hanging out with the crowd by the merch booth—he expressed that if people are giving up their time and money to support him, the least he could do in return is kick back and offer some time of his own. The second endeavor he sees himself undertaking is much more logistically complicated: “I always say like, I’ma probably dip off to L.A., have an era where I just get mad addicted to drugs. Fucking disappear for a few years. Pop out, have my head shaved like you. Get like a paparazzi picture of me. Like, yo, he shaved his head. And then, everyone’s gonna start tweaking about me. Like, yo, is he good? Like, what the fuck’s going on? And I’ma just drop like the illest album of all time and nobody’s gonna care.” That’s proof enough that Lork Sko isn’t just a kid regurgitating 90s music – he’s creating his own (slightly delusional) vibe. With his head buzzed and “the illest album of all time” dropped, Sko will explore his third undertaking: expanding his brand. He sees himself making an appearance through a few cameos—popping up in movies as “the drug dealer, the fucking tweaker, or just some dude.” Artists need to know their strengths—and Sko is effortlessly exhibiting this trait in the characters he’ll hopefully portray.
As the slightly exhausted, hot-button topic of Artificial Intelligence continues its growth, Lord Sko and I found ourselves discussing it in relation to his music. First, Sko mentioned that he had “made music videos that had AI in them”. However, soon after their release, he wanted to take them down, saying “they just look so corny and everybody hated them. Like, I just think it was really stupid. I really, really, really regret doing that.” He adds, “But the second thing I will say about AI, that I have used in my music, is samples. Because the sample game gets mean out here, dog.” Though he takes issue with using large language models in his music, he, on rare occasions, has explored the AI music world. Sko confessed, acknowledging his ethical qualm, that he has prompted AI to make jazz songs at specific tempos, with certain influences, before chopping them up and creating his own samples.
With more music soon to drop and an impressive creative progression already underway, Lord Sko is bound to soon break the ceiling of Underground Rap. If you’re just getting into his discography, I would recommend giving Superstition and Life Like a spin. These tracks highlight his evolving sound—as he learns to space out his bars and embrace his melodic possibilities.
As I left his apartment, the last thing Sko told me was that if he could be any aquatic animal, he would be a walrus because “them motherfuckers is chilling, dog.” It tracks. Everything about him—the laid-back grind, the dream about disappearing to L.A., even the questionable sandwich choice—is rooted in authenticity. If Lord Sko keeps trusting that instinct, his ceiling isn’t the underground. It’s wherever he decides to take his story next.