UPDATE February 2nd, 2026: Mad Skillz has won a Grammy for Best Spoken Word Album. You can read about that HERE. In honor of that win here is our interview with him back in December.
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“A life lived through music, is a life well lived.” – Mad Skillz
Mad Skillz is a journey. Nine hip-hop albums. Two poetry albums. Three Grammy nominations. An elder statesman that’s not only delivered for Virginia since the 1990s, but consistently championed those who came after him. Few have ever elevated Richmond’s creative promise with such focus and clarity, shaping the contours of the city in ways that are both material and permeable. Because of that, Mad Skillz is also the destination.
When I caught up with Skillz before he left for a Grammy event in Miami last week, there was a stillness about him. A man fully in command of the moment, reflective and aware that membership into such an elite club requires more than just acknowledgment. It also requires foresight, cultivation, and an understanding of the politics that drive culture.
All of which is evident on his new poetry album, Words for Days Vol. 1, earning Skillz his second consecutive Grammy nomination following last year’s The Seven Number Ones. For the project, structured around a seven-day week, Skillz assembled what he called the “musical Avengers”: seventeen creative collaborators from Virginia, fourteen from Richmond alone. This included city nonpareils like Radio B and Ant The Symbol, Grammy nominated engineer, Michael Millions, along with newcomers like 18-year old singer-songwriter Love Jones and poet Steph Love from Norfolk, among many others.
While Words for Days Vol. 1 is undeniably Skillz’s album, it’s also their album. Each contribution carries a lesson learned. An observation shared. Or an insight gained—a rumination, as we navigate the days of our week before returning to the beginning and starting all over again. Such is the preoccupation of life. Such is the preoccupation of poetry, of words… for days.
Not long after our interview I ran into Radio B at a downtown event, who also performs on the track Thursday’s Struggles. Stepping aside to talk, he told me: “There was just a perfect moment that came together for this project.” When I asked about the scale of the ensemble Skillz assembled, he glanced over his glasses and smiled. “He was the perfect person to try something like this,” he said. “You have to have a certain level of cultural equity to call in the Avengers, right?”
Our conversation with Mad Skillz continues below.
Words for Days, Vol. 1
Congratulations on all of your success Skillz. I’ve been listening to Words for Days, for quite literally days now. The concept feels simple, but deceptively so. Was there a deeper, layered meaning behind the titling of the project?
I definitely knew that when people read that, they were going to think, ‘Oh, he could rap forever.’ But I knew the second thought was, this was an actual song for every day. And they wouldn’t pick up on that unless they listened to the entire project.
I always tell people—whenever you listen to the album, if today is Wednesday, I’ll start on Wednesday. I wanted something that could keep giving as people went and listened to it. So it was definitely an intentional, double entendre.
Since we’re journeying through the days of our week with you, what do you want listeners to discover as they move through the album? Because I feel like I discovered something new with each listen.
That’s initially, definitely, what I want people to feel. I want them to reflect on their own journey and how they feel on different days. What days they look forward to, what days they don’t. And ultimately, hopefully, we can call come to the realization that every day is a blessing.
Because I’m saying every day above ground is a blessed day, regardless of what happens during those moments. We’re blessed to see another day. It’s complex, but then when it spins back around, it’s actually very simple.
When you write with this level of introspection, observation, and vulnerability, how do you tap into something higher, more intuitive?
Just from experiencing everyday life. I try to think about—not only what I’ve gone through—but to also realize that people experience the same things. Maybe not in the same exact way, but if we’re on this planet long enough, we’re all going to experience grief, happiness; we’re all going to experience loss.
So I try to think about things that are relatable. I don’t want a person to ever listen to something that I make and not be able to relate to that. I know who my audience is, I know what my culture is—what we’ve seen, and what we’ve come from. So I always try and keep that in mind when I’m putting pen to paper.
You just described a spectrum of human emotion. When I listened to the album, I also balanced that against a sense of nostalgia for how things used to be. How do you reconcile where you’ve been, with where you see yourself going?
Memories stay with me, there’s certain things you never forget about your journey, which allows you to be grateful when certain things happen in your life. So the memories are something that triggers emotions. They trigger a sense of gratitude.
When you are experiencing things, you’re like, ‘Wow, look where I am. Look at what this got me.’ When I just think about music, whether it’s good or bad, I think about how far music has taken me. A lot of people ask me a lot of times, ‘How do you continue to do so many different things?’ In one minute you’re teaching, the next you’re DJing, you’re writing songs for other people—now you’ve made a poetry album.
The music is the common denominator for all of it. You know me, I love music. I don’t know where I’d be without it. It changed my life. I’ve met so many amazing people through music. A life lived through music, is a life well lived.
When you finished the album, did you have a favorite day of the week?
That’s almost like asking—who’s your favorite child? All of them are special to me in different ways, once I knew the project would be listened to cohesively and in succession.
But was there one observation that really captured you, one specific thing that was more cathartic than the others?
Sunday Service. I felt that Sunday—it was just gospel, it was holy. Once I put together the video matching the visual to the words, it turned into something special. So that one probably sticks out the most.
Do you think we’ve backed away from the idea of truth-telling in favor of storytelling? We live in a world right now where fiction has become fact. Because I feel like you told a lot of truths on this album and those two things aren’t necessarily the same anymore.
Definitely. I would say we need both. Because we lack that in a lot of the music. And for us to have it, see it, and hear it—it’s almost like an anomaly now. We see so much stuff and question it as soon as we see it. Like, is this real? Let me go check a credible source. They show us so much that’s not based in reality.
And a lot of these companies we trust, or used to trust, it’s just an advertisement for them. They’re trying to make sure that they get engagement over truth. We are the product—our attention span, is the product. So I say, truth in storytelling is needed now more than ever.
We owe it to the people who trust us to give them the real. I’m saying in whatever format: song, instrumental, poetry, spoken word, gospel, folk country. I always tell people some of the best stories I’ve ever heard are country songs. They’re so vivid, I can see it.
There’s something to be said about being able to use your words and say what you’re saying— that’s a gift. So the people who have those gifts, be it a rapper, songwriter, poet, or whatever—that’s a gift. And I think they should exercise that because not everybody has that ability.
The GrammYs
You’re now a three-time Grammy nominee. What’s it been like to be elevated by your peers at this level—twice consecutively?
To know your work has reached a level to be Grammy nominated, and you have the chance to even walk home with one of those trophies, puts you in another stratosphere. It’s the highest level of music award that we have—music’s biggest night.
And to be in that class by yourself because your work stands up, you know? It’s one of those things, regardless of whether we win or lose, when the nominee gets called—a person will be ‘Wow, I’ve never listened to that. I’m gonna go check it out.’
It’s the same way we look at the Oscars, whoever wins Best Picture. I didn’t see that movie, but I’m gonna go peep that. So it ups the ante of the involvement in the listenership. So I’m proud to be a Grammy nominated artist, and I’m proud to share the platform and keep elevating the culture.
Can you give us an anecdote about the ceremony? For most people, I think it seems so mythologized, so esoteric. I was watching your interviews from the red carpet last year and it’s hard to imagine.
Chaos, is the first thing. Because there’s so much press there. You hop out of your car and head down this path, and you start to see all of these different outlets and people—you start seeing your heroes. Oh my god, there’s Stevie Wonder. You look to your left and there’s Baby Face.
Some people have figured out a way to make this moment their moment. The red carpet is chaotic, but so well worth it. I was on that carpet for an hour last year with my wife, who had never experienced it before. So to experience it with her in that capacity—we were in the car going home, like, ‘Yo, that was crazy, right?’ We were having those conversations and it was dope.
But chaos is the first word that comes to mind. It’s very chaotic.
As your category gets closer to being announced, what’s your level of excitement or anxiety like—what’s the rack of emotions running through you at that moment?
You’re sitting there, checking your phone, you’re leaning over, like—’What? Which one are they on?’ If you’re up for a category you get a list because they don’t want you to be on the red carpet when they announce it and you’re not there.
They go quick, ‘Hey, that person isn’t here. We’re going to move forward, but accept this award on their behalf.’ And then they go to the next thing. So it’s very anxiety driven and very high pressure when you’re waiting for it to happen. But I’ve always wondered what happens after you win because they whisk you off somewhere.
It’s almost like going behind the wizard’s curtain. So I’m like, ‘Ok, what do they do on that side?’ Hopefully we’ll get to find out at some point before I’m out of here—what it’s like to be on the other side.
Do you have any pre-ceremony superstitions, any manifestation rituals?
Last year on the inside of my suit I had three pins. One pin was of my mom, the other was DJ Clark Kent, and the third one was Richmond. So I have three buttons that I put on whatever I’m wearing. So I’m definitely gonna do that again this year.
Do you write your acceptance speech in advance, like mind-mapping that out way in advance or do you do it the night before?
The night before, I put it on my phone as the screen saver, so even if I locked my phone I could just tap the side and it would pop up. [The speech] is quick, fast, because they don’t give you a lot of time. It might be 40-45 seconds—that’s it.
That’s it?
By a minute the music’s coming on.
No one can manifesto anymore?
No, you’re not gonna get that off. But I’ve timed other people’s speeches to see what I can get in. But I’ll have it on my phone as a screensaver and we’ll take it from there.
I don’t mean for this question to sound reductive, but do you still see cultural value in the big awards ceremonies?
Yes. Because nobody can take it away from me—number one. Number two, I told all of my friends that are on the album and have contributed to the nomination, ’Bro, that shit will probably be on your obituary when you leave here.’ That’s how special it is.
If you dedicated any part of your life to music and you made it to the Grammy’s even to be nominated, that doesn’t happen to a lot of people. So take pride in that, in the fact that you worked on an album that was nominated. Because that’s a conversation piece.
And if anybody ever goes, ‘Oh, what album was that,’ they don’t have to look it up. You’re not on the back file or tucked away down at the bottom. No, it’s right there—in this particular year, it was nominated for a Grammy. To be able to have that, it’ll stay with you forever.
You’re in an elite club.
Yeah, you’re in an elite club. It’s music’s biggest honor, so I take it very seriously.
Elevating Voices from Richmond and Virginia
You use your platform to uplift local artist, producers, and engineers. On Words for Days, there are seventeen different creatives from Virginia on the album. Fourteen are from Richmond. You wear the city’s pin inside your jacket during the ceremony. Why is that commitment still so important to you, especially at your level?
Because nobody did it for me—nobody in ’91,’92,’93. It was just me swinging this sword by myself. What type of elder statesman would I be, if I didn’t? It’s no different than me seeing someone outside the Siegel Center leaving a VCU game and they ask me, ‘Yo man, how do I get my song on?’ I’m not going to gate-keep information.
I’m also at the point in my life where seeing them go through the process is way more enjoyable for me. Because these are things that they probably didn’t think were possible. Who would I be if I wasn’t educating people, because I want people to see that it’s possible. It might not happen today or tomorrow—it happened for me after 30 years of rapping.
I don’t want someone to have to wait 30 to get it. I know you’re talented. If I find something and I feel it fits you creatively, we can lock-in and make something dope. I’m not interested in views, likes, or comments. I’m interested in helping people in this city get to the next level.
I’ll get a DM from so and so at Sony Records. They’ll call me and ask me about a local artist, ‘Is that legit Skillz, is he a real person in the game?’ I get those types of calls everyday, because there’s nobody else to call. Those little things happen all the time behind the scenes. And I’ve been helping people for as long as I can remember.
You’ve brought up being an elder statesmen twice now. Do you view that as being integral to the legacy you’re leaving behind?
Richmond is just as talented of a city as anywhere else, right? We got dope artists, producers, writers, poets, beat makers, band musicians, videographers—there’s a lot of dope people in this city that make dope art.
If I can’t stand up and and shine my light on them then what was it all for? I don’t want nobody to have to go through what I did in the game, you know what I mean? And it’s easier now. They got phones, social media, they can get to people quicker.
I don’t get any enjoyment out of doing it by myself. I’m at a point in my life where I don’t want to rent out the amusement park and only take my family, right? I want to call the homies and be like, ‘Yo, bring your kids, man.’ That excites me more than just being the best rapper in the game.
What was it like to manage such a large ensemble of creatives?
Oh, man, it was insane. The crazy part was—we did two days at Space Bomb, and the first day was just music. It was just all musicians. Shit, we did 48 tracks in one day. So I got enough music for Volume Two and Three.
Is that happening?
I might! Win or lose, another album’s coming out. Because we have so much more music, and we got a lot more stories to tell. I have fun man, just standing back and watching the creatives create.
Looking outward, what’re you seeing in the world right now? We’ve covered a lot of ground in this interview, but are you feeling optimistic, cynical, somewhere in-between? Because you’ve had a great year, but this hasn’t been a great year for a lot of people.
I still see a lot of disadvantage. I still see a lot of people that don’t treat other people like human beings. I don’t see as much love, and I see division. That’s what compelled me to put people in a room and make something together as a unit.
Slowly but surely, without me even realizing what I was doing, I’m building a team—almost like a musical Avengers. But I’m still seeing that division. I know what’s going on outside my window and what people are faced with on a day-to-day basis, who might not be as fortunate as we are.
You know, we may do music for a living and we’re blessed to be able to take of our families through that, but a lot of people don’t have that. So I’m never too far away from what my community and what my people are dealing with. And just people in general.
Man, because it ain’t even just my people or people that look like me. It’s everybody that don’t look like that, and even some people that do look like that. The division, nothing good is ever gonna come from dividing people.
FInal question. What’re you listening to? What’re you reading, watching? Any recommendations can we give the readers.
Viola Davis has a very good book. Black Thoughts, was also very good. The Upcycled Self, I enjoyed that. As far as what I’ve been listening to: I’ve listened to De La Soul’s new album, Cabin in the Sky—I love that. I listened to Nas and DJ Premier today. I had a chance to sit with that, I like to ride to albums. I’m also still listening to Kendrick and J Cole.
I’ve been watching a lot of scripted TV shows—I’m watching a show right now called Pluribus, written by Vince Gilligan. So those are the top things I can think of right now. I’m not trying to focus on anything negative, salacious, or gossipy. You know, shade, tea, those kinds of programs—I’ve been off that.
Skillz, always great seeing you. Thanks for such a fantastic in-depth interview.
Thank you for having me.
The Ensemble
Seventeen creatives from across Virginia contributed to Words for Days Vol. 1, supporting Skillz in earning the 2026 Grammy nomination in the Best Spoken Word category, including:
Musicians: Alexander Mack, Bee Boy Soul, Bassman, Ty Bizzy, Matthew Steele, and Ant The Symbol
Poets: Radio B, Nyesha Fox, B Lovee, Poetry Lives, and Steph Love
Engineers: Michael Millions and Alex De Jong
Singers: Kia Bennett and Luhv Jones
Songwriters: Luhv Jonez and Jae Writes
Author’s Note: Of all the brilliant verses on this album, one of my favorites comes from Norfolk based poet, Steph Love. On Tuesday’s Thoughts, she reflects: “I’ve been gathering my greatness to place it in a grave. Taking its life away as if it’s not worthy of breath. Misplaced my motivation, when I mistook imposter syndrome as a real person.”
For days, I thought about this verse. About the character of the imposter. About ego-death. And how we can mask one with the other. When I asked her how these things might connect, she told me, “There’s this confidence there, but a voice trying to kill it, so I feel like it’s a battle within itself (myself).” For most, that battle is perpetual, an ongoing expression of the obscurity we face when pretending to be something other than what we actually are.
I’m not sure my interpretation of her words was correct, but it forced me to experience the space I occupy in a different way. Yet that interpretative power is precisely what makes Words for Days, such a potent body of work. “I love that this is art and it can be interpreted any way,” she told me. “I love what can be done with words.”
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