Lola Brooke exudes an outsized warmth for someone who stands at 4'9". The Brooklyn-born rapper has just arrived at the Arista Records office in Manhattan — after traveling around the country for music video shoots —but she wants to know how you're doing.
It’s a pivotal time for Brooke, who released her debut album, Dennis Daughter, on Nov. 10. "Dennis’ daughter" is Brooke's first nickname, so the release is additionally personal.
"It’s like the album’s my baby and I’m going into delivery soon," she jokes. And yet, amidst all this, Brooke is centered, calm and ready to be seen as the real woman behind her Brooklyn-tough stage presence and charismatic cadences.
Raised in Bed-Stuy by a single mother with whom she shares an airtight bond, Brooke was no stranger to spending long hours alone when growing up. She filled the time journaling, watching 50 Cent music videos and, around 2016, posting DIY freestyles online. Thomas was working full-time at a local men’s shelter while trying to make a name for herself in music; eventually she decided to go all in and signed with a production company.
The rest, you could say, is history, though Brooke isn’t one for cliches. She began generating a constant flow of witty, biting lyricism, displayed on singles like 2018’s "Bipolar," 2019’s "Cash Out," and 2020’s "My Bop." Her 2021 track "Don't Play With It" — with its inventive verses and drill influence — went viral on TikTok, cracked the Billboard Hot 100, and was certified gold.
It’s been a whirlwind adventure for Brooke ever since: punctuated by nominations for Best New Artist at the BET Awards, Best Breakthrough Hip Hop Artist at the BET Hip Hop Awards, and a spot on the coveted 2023 XXL Freshman Class list.
But Lola Brooke doesn’t like resting on her laurels; she’s set on attaining real staying power in the industry. For that to happen, she first wants to peel back the layers — revealing herself to the world as someone who’s experienced grief, pain, love and triumph, as well as an artist who’s not afraid of honest, hard work.
"I used to be embarrassed about my story," Brooke reflects. "No matter how many horror stories I have in Brooklyn and New York in general, I always love to go back — it just always keeps me in the space of knowing that dreams do come true."
Brooke spoke with GRAMMY.com about her creative process, her dream collabs, the influence of her upbringing, and what people still get wrong about the artist born Shyniece Thomas.
I listened to the entirety of Dennis Daughter many, many times through, and I’m so excited for its worldwide reception. What was it like to finally get those words out?
Opening up about my vulnerable side was definitely a release for me, because you can't run from your reality. When I'm in the studio, it's hard for me to really focus on other things if I don't first speak about what I'm feeling at that very moment.
When I did "Vacant Heart" on the album, for example, I just spilled the beans. I'm only doing music because I get to express myself. I was the only child with a single parent — my mom raised me — so I was writing in diaries, in journals, all the time. That's what I've always been most comfortable doing.
In one of your previous interviews, you said that you started rapping for self-confidence reasons — that it helped you, in a sense, "come into yourself" and speak your truth. How have you created a better relationship with yourself through your songs?
[My songs are like] me talking to myself. So instead of listening to somebody else's story, I listen to my very own. I don't know no other way to do it, you know? This is my passion as an artist. Listening to my music betters myself. I used to be embarrassed about my story. Now, when I put it on a track, it's already out there. There’s no running back. I'm challenging myself to keep moving forward.
Your sound is consistently passionate and engaged. Were the hardest songs the ones that featured more vulnerable themes in your life, or those that were more technically difficult?
It was difficult for me to find a moment to actually do a song dedicated to my [late] father Dennis. That took a very long time. When I finally found the moment, that song just flowed. Every time I speak on my dad, I get emotional when it comes down to music. It was hard for me to finish the song, so I just had to take a breather. That was the most difficult part of the project for sure.
I just wanted people to teach themselves how to bond with loved ones that are no longer here. They’re gone, but you don't have to feel like it's over. I still feel my dad’s energy all the time. Hopefully, I encourage people to write letters or to put their feelings of grief for their loved ones in songs.
There are no shortage of big name features on Dennis Daughter, including Coi Leray, French Montana, and Bryson Tiller. Who is your absolute dream person to work with?
Meek Mill. I also love Rihanna. I kind of want to tap in with Jay-Z — [he] inspired me as a "business musician." Now I'm looking at things totally different. I would love to get some real feedback from him — as an artist, as a recording artist. With Meek Mill, we already collaborated on a song, but it was kind of an introduction for us. We felt comfortable working with each other, and now it's time to, like, really lock in and make some good music.
You’ve often spoken about feeling honored that bigger, older artists have been kind enough to "pass the torch" to you by letting you open for their sets or collab on their tracks. Are there any artists who you would pass the torch to?
I don’t look at anyone as being underneath me, because I feel like I'm still the underdog and I'm still trying to make a wave. But once I do get to the point where I "made my stamp," I would love to pass the torch to whoever may be that new, up-and-coming artist. One thing I know is that I never look for handouts. So I will always tell younger artists: don't look for handouts.
You once said that you always won the "class clown" superlative in school; yet you were also around many things growing up that weren’t laughing matters at all — like poverty and substance abuse. Tell me a little about that part of your life.
When I left my job, it was Feb. 14, 2017. Best day of my life. But I still do think about working at the shelter, I still do miss that energy. It kept me well-grounded. I was inspired by the people that I was catering to at the shelter — they got some crazy stories. But the people in the shelter were going through things because they got a divorce, or their parents got sick and didn’t have any money to take care of themselves.
My father was an addict. My mom was a single parent, struggling. Now, I try to connect back with it because it shaped me into who I am today. Like, this is where you came from. These are the streets that you used to walk on. And now you get to travel and come back to the nest whenever you feel like it. I feel connected with my childhood and with Brooklyn very, very much.
What does your mom think of your current fame?
Sometimes I gotta sit back and accept my mom accepting the new me. It does feel good to know that she embraced me as an artist. She raised me really well to know that Shyniece is never going nowhere, so I think that's why she embraced Lola so much.
My mom’s been a trooper. She’s been supporting me for a very long time now, and she's excited about her daughter being a celebrity. I tell her all the time, like, Mom, I don't know what you’re talking about. I'm not a celebrity! She's very much invested in my life, for sure.
I love my mom’s presence. I don't even have to speak to her — as long as I know she’s in the next room, that does a lot for me. She was actually here a few days ago….She packaged me up good.
What’s something many people still don’t understand about you?
I'm a lover girl. Like, I love love — Brooklyn girls know how to love! I love people who are affectionate, I love different types of love languages… So that's why I came up with doing "You" with Bryson [Tiller], to give another side of me. I don't want people to feel like I'm unapproachable, but I also want them to approach me with respect. I’m relatable and I’m human. Just like everybody else.
If you could speak to the young Shyniece now — the one who once told her grandma that she intends on becoming a rapper after watching a Kriss Kross video — what exactly would you say?
I have these old videos of when I would, during a bad day, record myself saying things like, "oh my God, today was just so tragic." You're gonna always have those days, no matter how much success you have, how much money you have. So to my younger self, I would say: "You're always going to have bad days, but it's what you make it."
Now that I'm flourishing as an upcoming artist, I have different problems. You're always gonna have problems. So just don't stop, basically. The challenges never stopped, they just got bigger and bigger.
Oftentimes, rappers speak of feeling betrayed by the communities which they managed to rise beyond. Have you experienced this in your life?
Before all these great things started to happen to me musically, I wasn't getting phone calls from people. People weren’t checking on me. And now they try to guilt trip me, like, oh, you don’t answer your phone! Or, you’re so hard to contact! But I used to speak to them only once or twice a year anyway.
Now they’re calling every two weeks. They’re all like, I just want to check on you! Check on my mother; that’s checking on me. Check on things around me that I might not be able to get to now as fast as I would like to.
Success changes the people around you because they can't accept the fact that you are now a new person, in a good light. Nobody should be ashamed to grow. When I was trying to figure it out, I could only count on one hand how many people were there for me. People love to say: You were the caterpillar, but I was the branch! You wasn’t no branch. You was the rain!
I don't expect support from people, I just expect support from myself. But if I happen to find some people who help me live through my dreams, I thank God for it.
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