The reason why Ludacris lied about his grandmother dying
It’s not right, but lots of people have done it. It’s morning, you’re hungover, and a gruelling day of work beckons. You want nothing to do with it, so you contact your boss from bed to let them know you won’t be in today.
But you’ll need a good excuse. You’ve recently pulled a sickie, so you can’t do that again. There’s only one thing for it. The nuclear option. You’ll have to let your boss know that, sadly, “tragically”, there’s been a loss in the family. Poor old Granny has passed in the night.
It’s a grim lie to tell just to get out of work, but people do it. As a matter of fact, it’s known that a world-famous rapper has been involved in this story in the past. Ludacris has admitted to telling this well-worn fib once, but, in fairness, his reason was better than most. He wasn’t just taking the day off for its own sake. He was trying to build his rap career.
Before he was a professional rapper, Ludacris interned at a radio station in Atlanta towards the end of the ’90s. It was through this job that he met Timbaland, who was establishing himself as a superstar producer around this period. Luda, who held aspirations of becoming an artist in his own right, desperately wanted to get in with Tim.
Speaking on The Bootleg Kev Podcast recently, Ludacris recalled how he gave Tim his demo, which the producer liked enough to invite him to Virginia. Tim was recording an album there, and he wanted Luda to contribute. This was a huge opportunity.
The problem is that Luda wasn’t contracted with the radio station, so he couldn’t just ask for time off. So, he needed to lie. And he needed to lie in a way that didn’t draw any further questions.
“My grandmother just died,” he told his bosses, “and I have to go to the funeral in New York.”
The story landed as intended, and Luda was allowed to take the time off work. He met with Tim in Virginia, where he recorded the track ‘Fat Rabbit.’ This featured on Tim’s Bio: Life from da Bassment, the producer’s first solo album. It consisted largely of Tim-produced tracks featuring other people’s vocals.
This is the moment Luda’s rap career really took off. His own debut album came out a year later, and he was on the way to stardom. It all started with a bleak lie, but, morally dubious as it may have been, you’d have to concede it was worth it.