Infinite Coles is Everything

From there, Coles’ writing got better, stronger. “Dad & I” was written and the now-viral “SweetFace Killah” came about. “Straight boys come up to me all the time now,” he says. “They’re like, ‘Bro, we love what you’re doing. You’re in a position to change the world, to change how the industry sees people and who they let in.’ And I was standing there like… damn. Coming from two straight men who weren’t being judgmental. They loved the art.”

Hip-hop blogs and tabloid-style headlines would follow — even Joe Rogan praised his talent and vulnerability. But getting on some hetero hip-hop ‘good side’ was never even Coles’ intention. In fact, he didn’t even wanna be a rapper. “In my family, there was a lot of ‘faggot’ talk in the raps, and it made me uncomfortable. It made me feel like I wasn’t supposed to like rap.”

When I first came across Infinite Coles, it was on “Bloodshot Red Eyes,” a one-off track from 2019 in which he sings in his soothing R&B falsetto. This is the type of singing that influenced Coles’ earlier music and still shows up on SweetFace Killah — tracks like “Thankful” feature his powerful belt and throwback 90’s R&B vocal singing, “If you want it, you can get it / all this love is neverending” followed by, “The scars on my body could’ve been much worse, but I’m still here.”

Other tracks like “Mama Song” and “Hummingbird” feel like internal mantras come to life, straight from the source. It’s a testament to Coles’ range and vigor in this shining moment he’s currently having. From rap to ballroom to R&B and pop melodies, SweetFace Killah puts Coles directly in line with his given name: Infinite. He doesn’t need to be just one thing — maybe he can be everything.

We sat down with Coles to talk about his huge 2025, wild TikTok fan reactions, and prayer.

How did we first meet? I honestly forget.

I forget, too. We be having too much fun. I feel like it was at that party by the ferry on Trinity. Club Glam? Yes, Club Glam.

Definitely Club Glam. I also feel like my first memory of you was this random song in 2019, “Bloodshot Red Eyes.” I love that song.

Aw, thank you my love. Yeah, that was my first song ever. With Richard Russell, XL Recordings.

Now you’re having this huge moment, which I’m so proud of. The songs blowing up, the TikToks, all the blogs… and so much of the attention tied to your dad, Ghostface Killah. How have you navigated that connection while also carving out your own name?

It’s been rough a little bit, but it honestly hasn’t bothered me. And I don’t mean this in a negative way, but… this was my plan. You know what I mean? I knew there’d be recognition just from using the name SweetFace Killah. I didn’t know it would get this big, but I knew something would happen.

Dealing with it doesn’t bother me. That is my father. I’m always going to be connected to him. He’s everybody’s top ten writer, top ten rapper. I’m never going to get away from that, so there’s no point in trying. But I do want to carve my own lane with my music. So yeah, it’s been fine.

The only annoying part is the comments — his fans telling me to kill myself, or that when they see me they’re gonna do something. It’s like… yikes. That part makes me nervous sometimes. But I’m dealing with it.

Have you gone to therapy for any of it?

No, not at all. I love talking to my friends. They’re my therapists. Especially the ones I’ve known for years, like Robot and Jazelle. They keep it real and tell me when I’m doing too much or not enough.

Honestly, that’s why all this new music is happening, and why I feel fearless right now. Jazelle and Robot have been on my ass like, “Shut up and do what you’re supposed to do. People are going to talk regardless. You can’t be 30 years old still looking for acceptance from a dad or a mom. You have to love yourself first.”

And they’re right. Even with other family members like my siblings. Suddenly everyone’s proud of me or reaching out. It’s annoying, but I’m trying to embrace it in a positive way.

But I don’t think it’s because I’m “having a moment.” I think it’s because they see me accepting myself. They see everyone else happy for me, and it hits them like, That’s my brother — why can’t I just do that too? It feels like they see the world loving me and want to join the bandwagon, but in a genuine way.

Why do you feel like this is happening now? It feels like everything just exploded all at once.

It’s because I’m being authentically myself this time. With “Bloodshot Red Eyes,” I was brand new. Even with my last project, I was brand new. I was living in the shelter. I basically just threw a bunch of songs I’d recorded onto one album. That was my last project.

Since leaving the shelter, everything has grown. In my own house, I created a space, an energy, where I can say what I want, be who I want. So now that’s showing up in my music, because I’m writing in a space that’s mine. There’s no judgment in my home, no holding back. I can be completely free. Most of these songs were written in my house after the shelter.

Before, I didn’t know myself. I wasn’t fully accepting of myself. And now? I’m here with my wigs on, my skirt on, my heels on, not giving a fuck about anything. That’s what it gives.

Do you think it was also just the literal physical space? In a shelter, you don’t have your own personal space.

Exactly. Your thoughts get mixed with everybody else’s thoughts and actions. I’d be thinking to myself, then look up to make sure a man wasn’t about to attack me. Men would come up to me and say, “Give me your food.” Stuff like that.

It was hard. I couldn’t focus on my art. Even when I wasn’t physically there, it was hard to write because I’d be like, Girl, I have to go back to that place tonight. So yeah — being in my own home let me be completely free and not give a fuck.

And around that time, my niece — but that’s my daughter — was born. That changed my life in the most amazing way. It made me feel like I had something to fight for. My sister has schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, really severe, so I had to take custody of my niece. That’s why I say she’s my daughter.

I feel like God gave my sister that baby because she was supposed to be mine. Everyone knows I always wanted a child, always wanted a daughter. I ended up naming her and everything. It truly feels like she’s mine.

She gave me a reason to fight. In the past, I didn’t know what I was fighting for. When she was born, it all came out of me. Tears every day. I pray every single day. I haven’t missed one in four years. That’s what it’s been like.

Tell me about that time in the shelter. What led up to it, and what was the process coming out of it?

Well, going into that situation… I don’t get along with my parents at all — mom or dad. Before the shelter, I was living with my mom, and my sister was there too. There was a lot of arguing, a lot of people not seeing my side, a lot of me feeling uncomfortable. My mom would tell me to get the fuck out of the house and not come back. It was just a lot.

My last straw — and I’m not trying to bash my sister, but this is my story — was when she did some weird shit. She’s schizophrenic and bipolar, so she switches sometimes. We had a little tussle, and she ended up calling the cops, telling them I tried to rape her. So I had to get out of that situation. I was like, Girl, you are not going to have six cops in my room questioning me about this and that.

And mind you, I had on a crop top and booty shorts because I was about to go to the gym. The cops were looking at me like, What is going on? Isn’t he gay? Is this a trans person? They were confused. I explained the situation, and they left me alone, but I was like, I’m not doing this. Something has to change.

I couldn’t afford an apartment, so I went to the shelter. I told myself, I’m gonna do this for 11 months and see what happens. And honestly, it was the best decision I’ve ever made. Even though it was hard and dark, something beautiful came out of it.

I’ve been in my home since 2021, and look — I made a beautiful album that’s literally taking off. I’m so grateful. I knew something big was going to come after the shelter. I could feel my music getting better, my writing getting better. Something felt different — and now look.

So the shelter might’ve been the best thing that ever happened, in a way?

Yeah. I learned a lot. Mind you, I had to take a ferry every single day plus a train. I’m from Staten Island, and the shelter was all the way in South Conduit in Queens — literally next to the airport. From my window, I’d watch planes take off and land. That’s how far I was traveling.

In the beginning, I’d cry on the train or on the boat. But after six months, I started to feel powerful, strong. I’d tell myself, After this, something is going to happen. I’m about to storm after this. I started embracing it. And that’s when my writing started changing — on the ferry, on the train.

When I got out, that’s when the writing really happened. But even while I was in the shelter and traveling back and forth, I could see the shift happening in me.

Tell me about the writing process, specifically for “Dad & I,” because that feels like the breakout track — along with “SweetFace Killah,” obviously.

“SweetFace Killah” was written a little later — maybe last year or the year before. But “Dad & I” was written as soon as I got out of the shelter and had my own space.

There was a situation happening where I was trying to call my dad for help. Because of my niece (my daughter). The only reason I had to get custody of her was because my sister had a moment, and they ended up taking my niece away. I wanted to commit suicide. It was crazy. I didn’t know what to do. My baby was getting taken away from me, and he was the only person who could really help. And he did nothing. He chose to do nothing.

So I posted something on Instagram. I don’t know if you remember. And it went viral. I just aired it all out. Like, If you’re not going to pick up for me, then here’s what’s going on. “Dad & I” happened right after that post. There was so much drama, and I was angry, but I’m the kind of person who doesn’t stay angry. I don’t hold grudges. I’m very forgiving. Even if I don’t talk to you, I’ll still love you. They’re our parents. We’re probably always going to love them, no matter what. That’s how I am.

So “Dad & I” came from that place. I wanted to tell him how I felt without being disrespectful. Because I knew some people would see “SweetFace Killah” as the disrespectful one — not me, but other people. “Dad & I” feels more like… us sitting in a conference room or a therapy room. Just me and him, talking, and me finally telling him how I feel.

Yeah, “Dad & I” is more sentimental. “SweetFace Killah” is more bark more bite.

Yeah. And you haven’t really heard me rap like that. “SweetFace Killah” was my first rap song.

Were you writing raps before that?

No. I just go back and forth with Robot and Jazelle. We joke and try to diss each other. Robot is the best rapper. He can freestyle off the dome, and I’m over there mumbling my shit.

But after “Boots,” I started getting into rapping. I was watching something on TV — I forget what — and that’s how “SweetFace Killah” came about. I just started going yada yada yada and made a voice memo. I went to the studio and played it for my producer, and he was like, “Let me try to make a beat to it.”

I recorded it and I hated it. I was like, “No, I sound weird. I don’t like how I sound.” Everyone around me was like, “Girl, this sounds fire.” And I’m like, “No, I’m not doing this.” They said, “You’re just not used to hearing your voice like this.”

Then I accidentally sent it to the label. Literally on accident. And they were like, “Infinite, what’s this? ‘SweetFace Killah’?” I was like, “Oops, sorry, that wasn’t meant to be sent.” And they were like, “No, this is a banger.”

I told them, “It’s not going on the album. Everyone’s going to think it’s a diss.” They fought me on it. Eventually I was like, “You know what? Put it on there. Whatever.” And I guess they were right.

What’s been the craziest TikTok or reaction video or internet take you’ve seen through all of this?

I wouldn’t call anything crazy. Everything has been so positive and beautiful, honestly. Yeah, there are men talking shit on little podcasts with 100 followers, thinking they’re doing something or hurting someone. And I’m just like… next.

But my heart has been so full of gratitude. This is all I’ve ever wanted — to finally be seen and heard. I’ve been the underdog for so long. My brothers got chances to be on my dad’s albums or go to the studio with him. My cousins too. And I love them — they’re amazing — but I always felt like I was the most talented one and no one wanted to give me a chance. The fact that it had to happen like this is unfortunate, but I’m still so grateful. So when people make their TikToks or reaction videos, it feels more beautiful than crazy.

One video that stood out was a guy talking about how powerful it was for me to get on TikTok and share my story about my dad. He said it helped him open up about his own father putting a gun to his head, and that I was breaking generational curses for him. Then another girl made a video saying the same thing. Someone else said her dad heard the song and reached out to her for the first time.

I didn’t think it would go that far. To see people connect with my story — and realize I wasn’t alone — feels so good. I’m glad they feel that same way too.

Are you nervous for the full album to be out, since these songs had such a huge moment? Do you feel pressure to deliver?

I literally feel that. I keep telling my friends, “Y’all, it’s eight days left. I don’t know what to do.” People are in my inbox saying it’s going to be Rap Album of the Year, and it’s not a rap album.

Everyone thinks it’s going to be rap or straight R&B/hip-hop. I don’t really know what it is. I just know it’s me. I love ballroom, I love hip-hop, I love R&B, and I love house. So I’ve been trying to mix all of that into one sound.

Everyone keeps telling me it’s better when people get something they didn’t expect. Even though people think it’s a rap album, they might love it more because it’s not because they’ll finally see what I’m really giving. So I hope it works out that way.

But yes, I’m nervous. Everyone thinks it’s something that it’s not. And I wish I had more rap songs, which I’m doing now, but I didn’t know any of this was going to happen. Now I’m like, oh God… am I supposed to be a rapper too?

I mean, “SweetFace Killah” is such a strong track. You can just have that one and come back with more rap later.

Right, right. And I’m definitely doing that now. I just released a feature with my bestie Mali Melizon on her song “Conti,” featuring me, Brooke Candy, and Aaliyah Interlude. My verse goes off. I rapped, and yes — it’s so cunt, it’s so fab. And I’m like, Yo… I’m really a rapper. I’m getting better. And believe it or not, it feels easier to rap. I don’t know why.

I know you love Tierra Whack. What other rappers did you love growing up?

I didn’t listen to any hip-hop growing up. In my family, there was a lot of “faggot” talk in the raps, and it made me uncomfortable. It made me feel like I wasn’t supposed to like rap.

I honestly didn’t start listening to rap until Nicki Minaj came out. I didn’t even listen to Lil’ Kim like that. I loved her, but she didn’t make me want to rap. Nicki did. Nicki made me fall in love with flow, character, cadence. She made rap feel beautiful. She was someone I could relate to.

And through her, I started listening to men. Lil Wayne is one of my favorites. Eminem. Kendrick Lamar. And I’m like, Oh my God, where have I been?

You were born into rap, so it makes sense you didn’t want to be in it.

Yeah. My brothers and cousins were always rapping for fun. I always wanted to be part of it and just wasn’t. So I’d go hang out with my girl cousins instead. Like, girl, I’m brushing dolls’ hair.

This whole thing feels so symbolic. It’s healing, but it’s like… you’re healing without your father. You’re reaching out, but it’s almost like you’re reaching out to a ghost.

Yeah. And like I said, it feels like something I just had to let out. Am I looking for him to respond? To hit me up? I don’t know. I just knew I needed to tell my story. Writing these songs and putting out this album — that’s my therapy.

Does he talk to your other siblings?

Yes.

Wow. So it’s just you?

Basically, yeah. It’s insane. And I probably made it worse now by shining. You know what I mean? He’ll probably never hit me up now — because I’m about to be all in his face, like Nicki Minaj said, he see my sexy ass every time he scroll.

Exactly. It could go either way. It might make him mad, or maybe it’ll bring him to a place of reflection.

Hopefully it’s the second option. Straight boys come up to me all the time now. I was in the city the other day, smoking, and these two boys walked past me, then turned around and came back like, “Wait, are you SweetFace Killah?” And I was like, “Yeah, girl, whatever.”

They were like, “Bro, we love what you’re doing. You’re in a position to change the world, to change how the industry sees people and who they let in.” And I was standing there like… damn. Coming from two straight men who weren’t being judgmental. They loved the art.

And I realized: This is possible. There are going to be people who don’t like me, but there are also men outside my community who will accept me, love my art, understand it, relate to it — while I can still have my wigs, my skirts, my heels. That’s so beautiful to me. I wish the whole world could be like that. But it has to start somewhere, right?

There have been gay or queer trailblazers like Lil Nas X, or Pabllo Vittar in Brazil, but they didn’t have your storyline.

Exactly. Pabllo in Brazil, giving it down. They call her the Beyoncé of Brazil. But yeah, it’s different.

It’s a “PR headline” that you’re Ghostface Killah’s son, but it’s not a headline to you. It’s literally your life. You’re just living your truth.

Right. Literally. That’s all it is.

And you sing. Like, no one really sings anymore the way you’re singing — it feels very ’90s throwback, real vocals. You posted that reel of you belting the “Dad & I” part in the studio. And now you can rap too. You’re so versatile.

I’m so excited. I’m so happy, girl. I really am versatile down. I want to do it all, and I’m going to make sure I do it all.

It’s so interesting. I don’t really know much about Wu-Tang or rap as a world, but it’s wild to watch you become this bridge for straight men, like Joe Rogan fans, who love rap culture.

And I feel like I can. If I keep going and working, the bridge will be for everyone. A$AP Ferg hit me up and invited me to his UGG party. I went, and he comes right up to me and gives me a huge hug. And I’m standing there looking like myself — beat face, hair done — and I’m like, Wow, this is crazy.

We exchanged numbers, and he texted me a few days later like, “Yo, meet me at my studio.” I was so nervous, but I went. And I brought Robot to break the ice.

It really does feel like a gap I’m bridging. And I hope that’s exactly what it is, because I think we need a change in this industry.

People forget where hip-hop originated — literally from disco music, which was so rooted in queer culture. House music, ballroom — the girls were rapping over disco and house beats in the Bronx. But so much gets taken from us and turned into something else, and then they try to erase us from the narrative.

I always say: there’s a problem with us until you need us to dress you for the Grammys. Now you don’t care if I’m measuring your thighs, but you have a problem with me rapping. Meanwhile, y’all took so much from us.

And now straight men are saying, “clock that tea,” “no shade,” doing the Vogue duck walk. They don’t even know where half of it comes from. But it happens. Everything is cyclical.

I definitely feel that bridge forming, and I hope that’s what I’m creating. People like Lil Nas X, Saucy Santana — they opened doors for me to be able to come in and give what I want to give.