Shola OG’s voice carries the weight of lived experience—every bar a reflection of the lessons learned in Malton, the realities of survival, and the search for something greater. In this interview, he delves into the environment that shaped him, the hard choices that came with growing up in a place where respect and risk walked hand in hand, and how those moments carved out his signature style—a mix of raw, unfiltered grit and melodic introspection. From spinning records as a DJ to managing artists, Shola’s perspective on the music industry is as sharp as his pen game, and with his upcoming EP Unit 7, he’s proving that self-awareness and faith are just as important as lyricism. Read on as he breaks down his creative process, the impact of personal loss, and why his music is about more than just telling his own story—it’s about making sure others see a way forward, too
Shola Og, welcome to A&R Factory! It’s a pleasure to catch up with you and explore the past, present, and future of your career. Can you tell us about your early life in Malton and how that environment contributed to the sound you create today?
I appreciate y’all having me. A lot of stages of my life unfolded there because I was there from childhood all the way up to adulthood. My childhood was filled with memories of times with my family—growing up in the house with both my parents and my three siblings. We had a lot of good times, going on vacations to America, doing little family activities around the city, like going to the theme parks nearby.
We also did what all families do—we fought, we argued, we ate together, we prayed together. My father really loved movies, so we were always up on the latest ones, and especially around Christmas, we’d watch a lot of them together. A few things really stuck with me to this day because my mother and father kept us structured. Saturday mornings, we’d have to get up early to do chores—I always had to do the laundry for everyone in the house. Sunday mornings, we’d always be in church, and we always had to take care of our homework first right after school. All of that taught me to be a neat and organized person, someone who knows how to prioritize things in life—and, of course, to have my faith in Yahweh.
As a teenager, I started to hang out more, exploring the neighborhood and the surrounding areas. I mean, as a child, I was outside with my people, but as a teenager, you couldn’t catch me inside—my parents didn’t even know what I looked like anymore, lol. When you’re a teenager, you start to explore ways to put money in your pocket. I had a few factory jobs I did with my boys, but we also used to break into cars, take things of value, and sell them on the streets. I used to do a lot of other things too. Some of my boys sold drugs, but I was never into that.
In Malton, we’re always about pushing a whip—we never wanted to be caught dead taking the bus. So when you get yourself a little bit of money, buy yourself a nice ride, and pull up with it, the ladies start to come through. My block, 3430, was the most active and most reputable block in the neighborhood at the time, so when you’re coming from there, the respect you get is higher. When you mix all that together—the fly cars, the money, the respect, the weapons, and the girls—it becomes an energy. And when you’re stepping outside with that kind of energy as a teen, the good times are really good. But then, when you come across dudes from other neighborhoods with that same energy, the good times can turn bad fast, and that’s when all the beef starts happening.
So my teenage years in Malton were defining moments that presented a lot of choices and obstacles.
Going into my early adulthood, you start to look at things a little differently. You start to understand the lessons your parents tried to teach you and the experiences that the OGs shared—especially if you’re like me and want to make something of yourself and add value to this world and the people around you. I lost a few friends along the way as a teen, so making it to adulthood felt good. I had a couple of kids and decided I wanted to do better for them, and that’s what I’ve been on ever since.
My father passed away from cancer about two months after I had my first child. I was 19, turning 20. It was a pivotal time when I felt I needed him the most. My family was crushed, but our extended family—the people of Malton—really held us down with their presence and support. That’s what Malton really is. It’s family. More than likely, if I know you, I also know your entire family because it’s such a small population.
Today, the music I make is a narration of my life in Malton and how it’s made me the man I am now. There are still so many things that need to be said in the music, but you’ll get it over time.
What prompted you to blend gritty beats with smooth, melodic flows, and how have your experiences influenced this distinctive style?
I’m naturally a quiet person. I can be in a room full of people having the time of their life, and I’ll be the one chilling. So naturally, my delivery on any beat is calm and smooth—I’m not trying to be someone I’m not just to make music. The gritty beats just feel like the music I grew up listening to in my neighborhood, so it feels like home.
In Toronto, growing up, we wanted to party to reggae and dancehall music—we didn’t want to hear anything else. But if the DJ did put on something else, it better be gritty. On car rides with the homies, smoking blunts, pulling up to the destination—we were listening to some gritty ish like Pac, Dipset, 50, DMX, The LOX, or Biggie. On a solo tip or when I’m with a lady, it’s always R&B.
How did your roles as a DJ and artist manager shape your approach as a songwriter and performer?
As a DJ, it showed me that music matters. The emotions people feel and show when you play their record—that’s why it’s important to keep it 100 real in your music. People feel that.
It also showed me that when you’re on stage, you’re the captain of the ship. The crowd goes where you want them to go—if you’re boring, the crowd is gonna be boring. If you give energy, the crowd will give it right back. If you want them to throw their hands in the air, that’s what they’ll do.
As a manager, it helped me to understand the industry better—how to read contracts, advance shows, how to have a proper rollout, etc. All of that is important to your success.
How do you transform personal hardship into the narratives within your music?
It’s just about giving people hope and encouragement. Most people think they’re alone in their struggles. Some don’t even know how to explain what they’re going through. So I make it a point to share, so they know they’re not alone.
That’s what I bring to the table. I talk about my struggles, but I don’t leave it there—I also make sure to let listeners know about the light at the end of the struggle so that they have hope and feel encouraged. That’s the mission that Yahweh gave me for my music.
How has reconnecting with your humble beginnings steered the creative direction of your forthcoming EP Unit 7?
I’ve been going through a tough time recently, and going back home mentally and emotionally, as I said earlier, just helps me remember who I am. My humble beginnings shaped me.
On the EP, I’m not necessarily giving you all the little stories that took place growing up—those will come with other projects. Unit 7 is more of an attitude. It’s more of “I’m here now, and I’m showing up as a man who knows himself better.” The way I talk, my mentality, the swagger—that is Shola OG.
As you look forward, how do you hope to use your music to inspire those who have experienced similar struggles to chase their dreams with resilience?
By continuously showing up for them with consistency in my messaging and in my moves. In this world, seeing is believing. The more they see, the more they believe—especially if the one doing it is a kid who grew up in a home or a neighborhood with stories just like theirs.
Not only that, but I’m working to be in a position to help in tangible ways. People have dreams and big ideas. People are going through tough times but have no way of getting them out, getting them funded, or no one to turn to for help. That, more often than not, is where the struggle is at. I just want to be used by Yahweh to help.
Discover Shola OG’s music on Spotify.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast
