Joe and Jada - Jay Pharaoh does HILARIOUS Joe and Jada impressions, talks Eddie Murphy, Jay-Z & Rick Ross stories, SNL journey

Welcome to the Joe and Jada show, where every episode’s a movie; today we’ve got a shape‑shifting assassin with diamonds on his voice, a fearless original who froze Saturday night and made the country look up—give it up for Jay Pharoah.

What’s your go‑to impression, the one people won’t stop asking for?

It changes with the crowd—some swear it’s Eddie, others say Denzel or Hov—so I just lean into whatever the room wants and have fun.

Even Hov jokes I’m the ‘fake Jay‑Z,’ then laughs and tells me I’ll never get Beyoncé, which is wild and hilarious every time.

How did Virginia shape you, and when did you know the voice work was a path?

I grew up 757, same soil as Pharrell, Timbaland, Missy, and the Clipse; church kid, always mimicking folks, from the choir stand to family cookouts.

I did The Rock in church, got myself in trouble for saying the wrong thing, and learned quick that timing and boundaries are part of the craft.

SNL is like the country’s nightclub on a Saturday—how did twenty‑two feel under those lights?

I had stage legs from theater and three years on the road with Charlie Murphy, so I came in loose, then hit a wall when sketches got pulled and I second‑guessed myself.

I locked back in, took on Obama, and turned the pressure into pace; that run became a core chapter for me.

Artists ride waves; you can be up, cool off, then climb again—consistency and craft beat quick hits.

Facts; I sat in my car looping voices—Hov, Cassidy, anyone—until the tone was seamless, and I stayed focused to make it out of a town where people get stuck.

We both came up as big kids and had to change; one day I realized you don’t see many old heavy guys and flipped my habits.

Same—bullied, sensitive, then I toughened up, kept the humor, and dropped the weight; it’s a head game first.

Comedy’s stadium‑big now; from Russell Peters to Fluffy and Kev, the ones who win keep swinging non‑stop.

You can’t be lazy here—consistency is the cheat code.

Hustle talk—Khaled never skipped a shift, and Ross will rock Africa one night and Memphis the next; that man turned a mansion into a paid‑off party.

I spoofed Ross and he hit me like, that store idea’s fire; he’s got land, animals, and a blueprint for squeezing value out of everything.

Would Eddie still torch the stage if he came back?

No doubt; he’s watching everything, and when he touched the Mark Twain stage he reminded everyone why he’s different.

Give me your five.

Robin Harris, Bernie Mac, Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock, and Dave Chappelle—while Pryor sits above all of us as the spark.

People loved the back‑and‑forth era, but some of that rap friction was life‑or‑death; I’m grateful we squashed things with 50 after Chris Lighty passed, and peace won.

New music—when’s it landing and what’s the story?

Album drops June fifteen with a single in May; it’s called The Odyssey, a sci‑fi arc about power, purpose, and finding out love and God matter more than everything you chased.

It mirrors my life—early access, money, and then the realization none of that fills you; and no, you don’t need drugs to make great music.

Game show life—what’s hosting taught you?

It’s live‑brain work and human connection; you calm nerves, keep it playful, and guide chaos—think Family Feud meets Wipeout, now in season three.

Steve Harvey’s an uncle figure who’ll tell you straight how to build to syndication, and that’s the target.

We ran a new joint for the room, warm melodies over grown‑man talk, and the hook had everybody locked in.

Then I dropped a harder record with chest‑out energy and clean pockets—the kind you drive to and feel taller after.

I’m big on lyrics and cadence—you delivered both; I’m downloading the project.

Make some noise for Jay Pharoah—multi‑hyphenate, relentless, and family now; The Odyssey is a must‑grab, and we appreciate you blessing the set.