YFN Lucci is a hit again after a numbingly dumb and deadly fall
Atlanta rapper YFN Lucci made a triumphant return to his hometown in the form of a sold-out concert last weekend at State Farm Arena.
Filling that venue shows you’ve made it. And that’s a good thing. Because a man, especially a convicted felon, needs to earn an honest living. And putting 15,000 butts in seats at State Farm shows you’re well on your way.
Or, that you’re back.
Lucci, born Rayshawn Lamar Bennett 34 years ago, was away behind bars for four years until January.
In January 2021, he was scooped up in a racketeering indictment orchestrated by Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis, which accused him a being a street gang leader.
The RICO case against Lucci was overshadowed by other RICO cases in Fulton against Atlanta rap star Young Thug and President Donald Trump. All three alleged ringleaders — Lucci, Thug and The Donald — are now walking the streets, which brings into question the effectiveness of such prosecutions.
(The defendants all enlisted the services of aggressive and pricey attorneys. Willis contends the prosecutions sent a message to gangs.)
Lucci’s “Welcome Home” show was said to be a heartwarming affair with a host of name-brand artists, including Rick Ross, joining him onstage, as well as his four children.
He kicked off the evening with “Jan. 31 (My Truth),” his first track released since his Jan. 31 release after a year in state prison. That followed three years in Fulton’s deplorable jail, where he was stabbed by a gang member.
The track “Jan. 31″ is notable because he refers to the death of his buddy, James Adams, who was shot to death in a bizarre gang-related gunfight in December 2020 and was the cause of his trouble.
Notably, at the time, Lucci was at the wheel of a Mercedes Maybach SUV, a brand-spanking-new, $200,000-plus toy gifted to him by a music mogul.
Within hours of receiving it, Lucci and three buddies, two armed with semiautomatic rifles, were cruising in the southwest Oakland City neighborhood, an area where they were likely to find trouble.
They did.
Surveillance video shows some locals buffing their cars parked along the street. Lucci’s white Maybach passed slowly by, drawing curious looks. Lucci’s vehicle sidled up to the curb four or five houses up the street (in front of a church). Then two passengers stepped out of the SUV and let loose with their rifles, wounding a man.
The other fellows on the street were barely caught off guard, because they dove for cover but immediately started firing back. Almost like they’ve done that before.
(Lucci attorney Drew Findling insists the others fired first.)
Lucci, who was driving, had ants in his trousers — and who wouldn’t? His vehicle lurched forward a couple times during the gunfight before speeding away under fire.
Adams, who stepped out from the rear driver’s door, was wounded and fell back into the expensive getaway car, dangling out of it as Lucci peeled around the corner.
Prosecutors said the dying Adams was pushed from the vehicle. “Treated like trash, some would say,” DA Willis said back in 2021.
A horrified witness told 911: “Someone (came) down the street with a man hanging out of the car. They just left him for dead.”
The thought of Lucci and Co. leaving a dying comrade behind on the street did not sit well in some corners and helped keep him in jail without bond.
The DA’s office backed away somewhat from the initial narrative. At Lucci’s guilty plea in 2024, prosecutor Shaniqua Christian said the passengers “attempted to pull Adams’, the decedent’s, body back into the vehicle but were unsuccessful. As a result, they left the body on Peeples Street and left the scene.”
Lucci was later charged with street gang activities, RICO and murder. Georgia law says if you’re involved in a crime and someone dies, even if he’s your guy, a murder charge applies.
In 2024, Lucci pleaded guilty to a single gang charge and was out in a year. Prosecutors said he did not have a prior conviction, nor was he packing the day of the shoot-’em-up.
In his song, “Jan. 31,” Lucci noted he faced “200 years” and was “never a rat,” because that is important on the streets.
No one wants to listen to a rat rapper.
His take on the shooting?
“Look, they say I threw my mans out?
“When you on a move, sometimes it don’t go how it planned out.
“You wouldn’t understand how a whole lot of trials and tribulations got me this far.
“Rest up ‘cause your grandson made it this far.
“Ayy, I’m just glad his last ride was the back of a ‘Bach.”
So, at least there was that.
The Maybach “oozes luxury with rear seats that recline and massage passengers,” TMZ wrote after Lucci was gifted the SUV but before the shooting incident became public.
Adams was surrounded in luxury — until his body hit the street.
I reached out to Lucci’s lawyers and publicist but did not hear back.
I am confounded by the duality of someone smart and driven enough to succeed in the cutthroat music business but also dumb enough to immediately load up a $200,000 vehicle with friends and firepower and go looking for trouble.
Many, if not most, rappers come from little, and the large majority don’t make it or, if they do, fade away.
“I’m from Summerhill; we don’t make it out of there,” he once told Vibe magazine.
He is one of the lucky ones. At least so far.
About the Author
Bill Torpy, who writes about metro Atlanta for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, joined the newspaper in 1990.
