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News: A$AP Yams Mother Talks About Her Son’s Drug Addiction


A$AP Yams’ mother. Tatianna Paulino, speaks to Noisey on what would have been her sons 28th Birthday. Yams, who was 26 when he died of a drug overdose, helped to spread the A$AP Mob name worldwide. His mother speaks with VICE and Noisey about his life and addiction to drugs. Take a look at what she had to say below.

Today would have been my son Steven Rodriguez’s 28th birthday.

But at about 3 AM on the morning of January 18 2015, the phone rang displaying the number of his roommate. Steven, aka A$AP Yams, was the founder of the hip hop collective A$AP Mob; he would sometimes phone me from his friend’s number. But at this hour, I knew it wasn’t good. “Mama Tati, Steven isn’t feeling well.” I could barely make out the anxiety-ridden voice on the other end, and my heart began beating wildly.

It was Steven’s roommate and he continued, “We are in an ambulance headed to Woodhull hospital in Brooklyn.” “What? My God, is he alive?” I asked because I knew something was very wrong. Amidst the clamor in the background, he tried to reassure me that Steven would be fine.

Alone, confused, and desperate, I tried reaching my husband who was working at the time. I was unsuccessful. So, I called his brother who agreed to drive me to the hospital that was about to receive my son. I waited, for what felt like forever, until he finally arrived 20 minutes later. Despite the fact that neither one of us knew our way to the hospital from my Bronx home, we raced down the highway to see Steven. But less than 15 minutes into the drive, I received another call telling me that my 26-year old baby was dead.

“No, no,” I screamed in disbelief. Immediately, my brother-in-law stopped the car and joined me in my screams and disbelief. We sat on the side of the road for about 10 minutes in shock before continuing our long silent journey to Brooklyn.

My mind raced. I thought about Steven smiling, laughing, and him being a prankster. Sometimes when I arrived at home from work he would hide and then suddenly surprised me by saying, as loudly as he could, “boo.” He would laugh with his entire body. Other times when I was in bed asleep, he took great pleasure out of opening my eyelids with his fingers and asking, “Are you awake? Are you up?” His face would light up with the biggest grin.

He’s gone. We will never share those moments again. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t believe that my only child was dead.

To read the full story, head over to VICE.