NPR Music’s Tiny Desk concert series continues to celebrate Black Music Month honoring the anniversaries of landmark albums that have shaped the course of music and culture. Wiz Khalifa pulled up to celebrate 15 years of Kush & Orange Juice, looking like he never left the studio—cool, calm, and completely in his element. Watch Wiz’s Tiny Desk inside.
The Taylor Gang boss brought his signature laid-back energy to the intimate series, performing a smooth set of fan-favorite tracks that reminded everyone why his sound remains timeless.
Wiz delivered a vibey and nostalgic performance that tapped into the core of his early catalog. Backed by a band of Tiny Desk veterans, Pennsylvania natives, and his longtime collaborator DJ Bonics, the Pittsburgh rapper reimagined six tracks with a cool, jazz-laced polish. The set opened with “Red Eye,” gliding into a medley of mixtape classics like “Mezmorized,” “The Kid Frankie,” “Never Been,” and “Up.” Each song unfolded with a relaxed precision, merging live instrumentation with Wiz’s signature laid-back delivery.
But something was different. Throughout most of the performance, Wiz stayed quiet—focused, introspective. Even as NPR’s Bobby Carter prompted him to engage, he remained locked in. It wasn’t until the final song, “Crime Bud and Women,” that the moment cracked open. Wiping away tears, Wiz finally addressed the room: “You made me cry. F*** y’all!” he joked through emotion.
His father and close friends were in the audience. He was performing not just music, but memories. Kush & Orange Juice wasn’t just a mixtape—it was a moment in time that made Wiz Khalifa the people’s stoner-poet. And now, with Kush & Orange Juice 2 reflecting a more mature version of that sound, this Tiny Desk became a sonic bridge between past and present.
The performance didn’t rely on spectacle. It thrived in stillness, letting the music and nostalgia speak. With Kenneth Wright on bass, Uncle Bubz on keys, Russell Gelman-Sheehan on guitar, Kendall Lewis on drums, and DJ Bonics on turntables, the vibe was lush and stripped down—like a hazy, soulful jam session in your cousin’s basement.
Wiz Khalifa’s Tiny Desk wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was a love letter to a mixtape, a city, a time, and the people who’ve grown with him every high step of the way.
