![]() Pump, though technically a legal adult, still seems like a child among a gaggle of grown-up handlers: a manager a publicist a producer, two “friends” who are much, much older than him two beefy bodyguards who carry that Louis Vuitton backpack filled with everything precious to him (his jewelry and weed) and an adorable, clumsy white puppy named “Esskeetit,” Pump’s tagline that, roughly translated, means “Let’s get it.” (The dog does not appear to respond to his near-unpronounceable name.) ![]() He’s hours late for our interview, hiding on the second floor, and when I check his Instagram I find he’s broadcasting live from the bathroom while our photographers and I wait for him to come back downstairs. He records a few Apple and Alexa promos for the album and drinks lean. In late February, I meet him at his Airbnb on the day of his second album’s release and he spends it largely wandering from room to room, smoking joints, looking at one of his two phones, or posing for photos for a T-shirt company he’s partnering with. Yet for someone whose career is largely built on an image of a person who doesn’t give a fuck, who’s never sober, and who at a very raw age has all the money in the world and none of the responsibilities of it, he’s surprisingly static in real life. Based on the amount of attention he gets from women, both his age and much older, homeboy’s gonna, like, get it. He has perfectly straight white teeth and thick, angled eyebrows and expressive eyes that sometimes droop when he smokes too much weed or drinks too much lean. His dreads, which in the past he’s dyed bright pink, turquoise, and purple, are currently a toned-down blonde with dark brown roots. He’s all high cheekbones and coy smiles, small in stature and frame, and no taller than 5'6". What teen wouldn’t find him totally compelling? His Instagram Stories are full of flexes: piles of cash and diamond chains and Lamborghinis and all the markers of what fame is supposed to look like. ![]() His face and body are tatted up with the types of drawings you’d tag your eighth-grade locker with he’s a high school dropout who raps about owning multiple overpriced watches and drinking lean (a soda and codeine cough syrup cocktail), who lives a consequence-free life in LA with little supervision and seemingly free reign to party at nightclubs and strip clubs despite not being old enough to drink. Rappers like 18-year-old Lil Pump are, seemingly, produced in a lab with the sole purpose of horrifying your mother. ![]() The gas stove that’s being used as a lighter makes me worry about everyone’s eyebrows because I am, among this crowd, more of a narc than a party girl. His crew reminds him they’re in the Louis Vuitton backpack that also holds more of his jewelry, but he continues to sulk until someone walks over and helps him locate them.ĭespite the missing cans, there are copious amounts of weed in this house - flecked on nearly every surface, in the dining room, on the kitchen table, and in the ash-covered sink. (He estimates that the jewelry he’s wearing is, alone, worth $1 million.) “What the fuck, man?” he says, ripping through the kitchen looking for his drugs, which come in pull-tab cans like flaked tuna. He’s stomping around a rented Airbnb in the middle of Los Angeles wearing four heavy diamond chains, two diamond bracelets with spikes, and two watches. ![]()
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