Drake is not a happy camper. After the Toronto rap star gave the virtual middle finger to the media and claimed he would no longer do magazine interviews (we made the cut-off just in time, huh?) following some bold statements about Macklemore and Yeezus, Rolling Stone unleashes the feature on the Canadian wild child in full, which is chock full of borderline shade but overall, his signature blunt honesty. Peruse the piece that launched a thousand tweets and then some below:
I’m done doing interviews for magazines. I just want to give my music to the people. That’s the only way my message gets across accurately.
— Drizzy (@Drake) February 13, 2014
Drake is worried that his waterfall is too loud. He rises from a wicker armchair and walks toward a control pad in the corner of his flagstone patio. “I want to be sure your tape recorder gets everything,” he says, fiddling with some settings. It’s a sunny January afternoon in Hidden Hills, California, a gated community where Drake owns a three-acre compound, 30 miles up the 101 from Los Angeles. A hundred feet from the patio, across his enormous swimming pool – the rippling waters of which contain two very big statues of voluptuous women, on their knees, in bikinis – what was a pummeling cascade becomes a whispering drizzle. Behind the falls, you can now see a man-made grotto, tricked out with a wet bar, illuminated wading pools, flatscreen TVs and a dozen other details that take time to register fully. Are those iron torches, affixed to the grotto’s interior walls, belching flames? They are. Is that a pair of majestic elk, fashioned from stone, standing sentinel up top? Yes – they match the stone giraffe you may have noticed out front, next to the driveway. Off to the right is a standalone, 25-seat movie theater; a combination tennis-basketball court; a mechanical bull; and a half-dozen stables for horses that Drake does not own. “That’s a water slide that comes from the top,” he says. “I’m obsessed with, like, residential pools. One of my goals in life is to have the biggest residential pool on the planet.” Back in his native Toronto, Drake is in the early stages of building a place on the city’s outskirts that will include “an Olympic-size pool inside the house,” he says. Until that’s done, this is his pleasure pad; built in the 1970s, with 12,500 square feet of space, the property is as eccentric as it is grandiose. The vibe inside is part dude ranch, part gentleman’s manor, part Medieval Times: rustic wooden beams stained a deep chocolaty brown; marble-top side tables; vaulted fireplaces; craggy, cavelike walls. “Originally, I had a sign outside that said the yolo estate,” he says – he popularized the acronym, which stands for You Only Live Once, in a single – “but it got stolen three times, and it was getting a bit costly to replace it, so I just changed it to the street number. I love that some kid has that sign in his bedroom.” When Drake, who’s 27, brings women here, he delights in flipping a switch beside a bookshelf, which swings open to reveal his bedroom. “This house was the desktop image on my computer years before I bought it,” Drake says. He’s wearing black basketball shorts, red socks pulled up to the knees and a black T-shirt decorated with white spiders; his beard is landscaped just so. “I was like, ‘What are the world’s craziest residential pools?’ and when I searched online, this came up.” In 2007, a then-unsigned Drake tried, and failed, to hunt this place down during an L.A. trip. In 2009, the compound hit the market with an asking price of $27 million. The seller, a steakhouse-chain restaurateur, “was at a low moment,” Drake recalls. “He needed money.” In 2012, Drake snagged the property for $7.7 million. “I stole it from him!” he says. Read on here. Photo Credit: Rolling Stone