Pitchfork: You told Rick you went through “800 intros” while putting this album together, why is the first track so important to get right?

G: Whatever world you create, that’s what people are going to be stuck in. That’s why I’m really keen on the intro and the tracklist. I don’t want the album to feel like one consistent vibe, but rather that you’re going through a lot of emotions at the same time; I was balancing a lot mentally when I did this album, keeping a lot of things in mind. So if you don’t like dance-y stuff, then you’ll like sing-y stuff; if you hate my fucking voice when I sing, then you’ll like the rap shit; if you hate all that stuff and wanna be basic, then you’ll like another record. So I’m really trying to do that and stay me and then, I don’t know, grow as an artist.

I also didn’t want to curse as much. Travelling changed that. The more people I encountered, the more I realized what an impact my music has: I can’t say I wanna beat niggas ass all the time, I can’t just say “bitch” for the sake of filling a word in.

Pitchfork: What made you realize that that was important? A lot of performers still curse a lot when they’re speaking to a bigger audience.

G: It’s more about the actual human interactions. Somebody would meet me and be like, “You helped me with the death of my father.” And there was another kid at a Dallas show that couldn’t get in, so he stood outside for at least four hours to give me a portrait that he created. Those are the things that make me feel like I have to do better for them. And as I’m getting older, things are changing, my life’s changing. Eventually, I want to become a father. By the time I’m 30, I’m going to look back, and then what? So I thought about all those angles and started to be more honest.