12 Hours at Mardi Gras with Guapdad 4000

I pull over and find Guap’s manager on Instagram and tell him we need to set something up. After a few months of back and forth, I decided to fly down to New Orleans to intercept Guap during his tour with Wale on the first night of Mardi Gras.

This was a pivotal time for him because he was only days away from the unveiling of his single “Black Iverson” for his personal debut with COLORSxSTUDIOS for an NBA 2K special in-game performance.

These are the moments we shared:

4:30pm

I arrive in New Orleans on a mercifully tame, 75-degree and sunny day. I pull up to the storefront of the New Orleans rap legend Spitta Andretti aka Curren$y, where Guap’s team has been waiting to shoot a music video. I find Sam, a big guy with classic Oakland white man style, tattoos all over his arms, a big trimmed beard, a dapper haircut with a side-fade, and a dad fit consisting of black t-shirt, shorts, and clean grey New Balances. He is joined by his incredibly kind wife Stephanie. Sam is the head of the Twnshp record label, Guap’s only representation—Guap’s otherwise independent.

With them are Guap’s DJ, another Oakland man named Fran wearing a flyass fit with pink nylon shorts. I also meet Guap’s personal videographer Paul who’s wearing merch from Guap’s European tour with Denzel Curry as well as Guap’s childhood friend from Oakland named Six, wearing an all-black tactical fit with bright pink Maison Margiela trainers. Beside Fran, everyone is here to catch Guap on his tour.

Guap is sitting on a curb, blunt in his hand, with a smile on his face. “My man,” he says, “Where the fuck did you get your jacket?” I’m wearing a vintage Oakland A’s varsity jacket to celebrate the occasion. “I really, really like that jacket. I love anything Oakland, but it’s just fly as hell.”

4:50pm

Sam is remarkably stressed about the video delay and is worried it’ll cut into our shooting. I say we can walk over to the French Quarter whenever, which seems to stress Sam even more since he doesn’t want us to leave before Curren$y gets back. We start shooting.

I ask Guap how the touring has been so far. “I love it, man. Get to see the world, meet a lot of people, a lot of beautiful women. I like people. We eat well everywhere we go and the shows are never how you think they’re gonna go. Every place you think is gonna be the best show never is and the places you never expect would be the best always are. But it’s exhausting as hell and a n-gga needs to take care of himself and I don’t get to do that.”

He tells me he performed last night at the Fillmore with Action Bronson and Earl Sweatshirt. “The crowd was going crazy for it, we were being insane and running around. This n-gga Bronson picks Earl up and is carrying him around like it’s nothing. That n-gga’s so huge.” They tell me they took Earl out for his birthday and got him blackout drunk. “That’s what happens when you go out with us, you’re gonna get fucked up and we’re all gonna have fun. It’s written.”

Sam stops pacing around and yells, “Fuck it! We’re going to get some fucking daiquiris,” and he storms off with his wife toward the French Quarter.

5:20pm

We start chatting with Curren$y’s crew. “I really love it out here,” Guap says. “Y’all really have a great city.” They ask if he’s been around before. “Not to have fun. I’ve been out here for scamming shit but not like this.”

“Yo, you know what’s the best food I had in California?” Someone in Curren$y’s crew says. “McDonald’s.”

Guap laughs. “N-gga, what?! McDonald’s?! I thought you was aboutta say a taco spot or at least some fucking In-N-Out! McDonald’s? Why?!”

“I don’t know man, y’all cook it different over there. It’s like how the Popeye’s here is the best. It just is.”

Sam gets back. He hates his daiquiri.

5:40pm

It’s getting close to Guap’s call time and we decide to walk over to the French Quarter. I pull out my secret carrying case that I use to sneak goodies on airplanes and let him know that if he needs anything for the show I got him. He laughs and says, “You took that on the plane? That’s hard, bro, but I’m good. I’ve been trying to be very present for my shows.” I’m a little embarrassed and surprised. His shows all seem so hyped up that I would’ve imagined he had some help.

I start explaining to Guap why I wanted to do the piece in the first place, that I watched almost all of his interviews and discovered a deep, thoughtful inside to him that I hadn’t otherwise expected from his hyped-up songs. He smirks and says, “It’s funny you say that. I really don’t think that much at all about what I say or do. I just live very presently. I try not to overthink anything and enjoy life while I’m around. Because what is the point otherwise?”

Again, a little embarrassed, I get quiet. He keeps surprising me.

Sam points at one of the statues. “Why don’t you take one with one of those?” I say no since he was probably a slave owner.

“None of the statues down here are safe,” says Guap.

We pull over to a small park alone and I shoot him in front of some trees. He puts on a face, serious, hard, pink $15,000 diamond grills flashing. Once I shoot and look up from my viewfinder, he’s smiling at me, which he does every time I shoot him. He seems extremely intent on making me feel safe and welcome.

He looks down to the ground and then begins to look all around the ground. “Dead pine needles all over the ground,” he says. “These aren’t supposed to be here. These don’t even match the trees that are above us. I can tell they’re from California.” He then picks up something that’s sticking out of the ground. “This is twine. You can make a basket out of it.” He starts to twist the twine around. “Wonder what it’s doing here.”

6:30

We’re walking toward a line of people, all very tall and business-looking except for the person in the middle, whom I lock eyes with and I put on a big goofy smile. Earl Sweatshirt. He smiles back and then walks up to Guap and daps him up. “Oh, n-gga, what?!” Says Guap.

“N-gga, it’s my birthday.” Says Earl. I say happy birthday, he says thank you, and turns us around and tells us to turn around because we’re going to get food. As we pass people, Earl tells the passing tourists that it’s his birthday with great joy and excitement. No one responds, but he doesn’t care.

“Yo, y’all got me mad vulnerable last night,” he says. “I don’t get like, that y’all had me fucked up.” I ask them to stop so we can shoot with a big bird statue. Earl starts yelling at people to stop and respect the shoot. One older white couple walks through the shot and Earl yells out at the woman, “Hey! Hey!” She stops and stares, in disbelief and offense that he yelled at her. Then he says, very calmly, “It’s my birthday.” She looks confused like she’s supposed to get something that she isn’t. As they walk away, we hear the husband say, “I think it was that guy’s birthday,” as if his wife had done something wrong.

We enter the restaurant, a crab shop, but Sam says we need to go back to Curren$y’s because we need to shoot the video; I grimace at the missed opportunity to eat, especially with one of my favorite rappers. Guap tells Earl that he should link up with us at the venue; we don’t see Earl again.

7:40pm

The shoot with Curren$y finally gets done. The roads to the venue are blocked off for the parade so we have to walk through. We start making our way through a chaotic, intoxicated crowd raging from every age range. Somehow, we lose Six and Paul. Sam and Stephanie stop by their hotel. Guap and I make our way to the venue. He’s carrying his two tote bags of clothes. I ask him if he needs any help. “Nah, I’m good, bro. This is my exercise for the day.” He’s quiet and has a calm presence. He seems to be mentally preparing for the show.

While we’re walking over we’re remarking on the chaos of the streets. A guy covered in dirt flings himself face-first at a metal parking sign and then falls face-first into the ground and a kid walks up and laughs at him. “Chaos.” Guap says.

We find Fran and settle in the green room where we meet a couple of people from Wale’s crew, including his cousin Cam who is also a rapper. “Do y’all want some mushroom chocolate?” We all say no. He looks distressed, “Are we gonna be the only n-ggas on shrooms?” He ass. No one answers. “God damn. Aight.”

12:30am

Guap and I are sitting together outside after the show while we wait for Fran to finish at the merch table. Guap tells me he’s trying to decide where we should go next. We could go to a hookah bar with Wale’s team, or we could go to a strip club someone told Guap about, or we could go get food somewhere, or we could just roam the streets. I’m growing extremely hungry and I begin to wonder what’s taking so long for him to decide. His attention is fixed on a strange type of garbage truck I’ve never seen before that seems to have collected everything that has accumulated on the streets over the course of the parade. The back of the truck raises and dumps out into a large dumpster in the street. A waterfall of what must be booze, piss, and whatever other liquids that Mardi Gras generates fall into the dumpster. He’s not thinking about the next thing at all. He’s totally present with what’s in front of him.

“He’s a pro.” Guap finally says. “Not a single drop has spilled into the street.” Another truck comes up behind and the back portion starts to rise faster. “Look,” he says. “He’s racing him.” After performing the same task faster, the truck jiggles. “Damn,” says Guap, “imagine being so good at something so particular that you can top someone else at it.”

A crowd of people starts to leave the back of the concert hall, Wale’s whole team minus Wale. They’re going to a hookah bar that we’ve been invited to. A group of gorgeous women in expensive-looking dresses pile into a black Escalade, followed by Wale’s team. One of them is lagging behind, Wale’s manager. He looks distressed. “Hold up!” He screams at everyone as they get into the van. “Hold the fuck up! Where is that girl I was speaking to? Where is she!” The team and the girls all look confused and anxious. One of them says that the girl in question must have fallen behind. “Call her!” He screams with great desperation. “Call her right now! No one is going to that club without her!” Guap and I look over at each other and turn away from the group so they can’t see us laughing. Eventually, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, looking quite flushed and almost embarrassed that she caused such drama, comes hurrying to the car. “Baby, baby,” says Wale’s manager, “do not scare me like that. I really thought you’d be crazy enough to leave without saying bye.” They all piled into the car and sped away. Guap and I finally let out our laughter.

“That n-gga was desperate for the hoes and I can’t blame him.”

2:00am

We meet back up with Fran, Paul, and Wale’s cousin Cam. We decide to take a walk down Bourbon Street. It’s not the craziest I’ve seen Bourbon Street get, but people are certainly happy that Mardi Gras is back. Guap walks a little ahead of us, observing the crowds in silence.

I catch up with Guap and ask him what he’s looking for. “I’m just going where the night takes us.” He says. “I love looking at people. I love seeing what people do when they don’t think they’re being watched.” Men drenched in sweat and beer, falling over each other and calling out to women who couldn’t be bothered to look their way. Girls on balconies flashing their tits and throwing beads out into the streets. A man surrounded by a pack of paralyzed kittens and dogs who have clearly been drugged. One girl goes up to them attempting to pet one of the cats who immediately hisses at her.

We stop for a moment to decide which bar to head into. Out of nowhere, a horse runs into me and the cop who was riding it pushes me out of the way. I scream out at the cop. “Damn!” Guap says. “Why they gotta make the horse a fed?!”

“That horse didn’t wanna be a cop,” says Fran, “why they gotta take something beautiful and make it so evil?”

We all get some daiquiris and try to find a club to roll into. A few white guys who are beyond fucked up run up to Guap. “Are you a Jets fan?!” Guap looks confused and then realizes the letterman jacket he’s wearing which is from Curren$y’s merch line; it’s modeled after the New York Jets merchandise. The guy puts his hand on Guap’s shoulder and Guap subtly pushes him away. “Nah, I don’t really know anything about the Jets, just a jacket.”

The man looks as if Guap has insulted his mother and he starts poking Guap in the chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed that if you’re wearing a Jets jacket you’re a fucking Jets fan for life!” Guap starts poking him back, harder, saying, “Just a fan of clothes, that’s all.” It gets tense for a moment, and I wonder if they’re about to start fighting. Then, Guap makes a couple of jokes to cool everything down and we walk away. Then, he falls over onto Six, laughing, saying, “I assumed you were a Jets fan for LIFE! What the fuck!” We all start laughing.

This moment is a tell, like many of the tells I’ve observed while following Guap around, that he has avoided the ego and the drama of the rap game all together. He could have bossed up and all of us together would have probably fucked these kids up that were getting in his face. But he isn’t interested in that. All day, I’ve noticed him, watching him, just like he is watching everyone else. He’s already a superstar, but he’s still the kid from West Oakland who used his wit and his smarts to get out, and he did it by being the type of person who notices things that other people don’t. He’s so present, beyond any ego or his fame. He’s really right here with you.

And he’s such a son of Oakland too, a product of the Hyphy era. Everywhere we went, no matter whether it was a fan or a store clerk or someone in the street, he was always kind and was always trying to make people laugh. It’s like he’s on this mission to bring positivity to those he comes into contact with in the same way that the late Mac Dre did, the patron saint of the Hyphy Era. It was an era of inclusivity, embracing the diversity of the Bay Area. Even Guap’s team is a testament to that, having all sorts of California folks around him, even himself being half Black and half Filipino, a true Bay kid. The Town's too small to be on some competition shit. Everyone wanted to put Oakland on the map and they did it by having fun and spreading it as far as they could through their music.

It’s why I found myself so confused by his genuine presence. He wants to give his performances his all while sober, so that he can do his best to make you feel present with his music. I may feel ready to rob a bank when I hear “Wells Fargo” because Guap is making me feel like he’s just as in it as I am. But it takes someone who has fought for and mastered a love of life and all its little moments to be able to get you to that place. It’s not through drugs or partying, that’s just the setting the music deserves because it gets you higher than you thought you could. It’s through being here, now, with yourself and your world, knowing you could still be in Oakland, reminiscing on a time that has come and gone. But it lives on in people like Guap who are intent on doing the superstar lifestyle differently: with intention, with love, with everyone.

4:00am

I’ve taken as much as I can and Guap and his crew decide to head back to the tour bus. We all exchange some love and Guap and I share a hug. “Thank you, my man.” He says. “Thanks for keeping the Bay in your heart.”

Always, I say.