Joe and Jada - Fat Joe & Jadakiss’ kids Azzy & Jae’Won talk growing up with famous dads, Timothée Chalamet & get pressed for Father’s Day gifts

Father’s Day energy right out the gate—I’m cracking jokes about going from furniture sales to Pharrell’s Louis Vuitton, then asking what I’m getting, and boom, my daughter pops in and flips the room.

Happy to be here, and yeah, my own podcast is real work—way more than people admit.

I trek through Hermès lines for birthdays, and somehow I still get socks on Father’s Day; you ever really lace me with something good?

I did—premium kicks, and yes, I covered it.

Our dog Bear even hustles me—jumps around in private, then limps in front of me like he needs a doctor, smart enough to guilt-trip the house.

Here’s free game about parties—the music’s loud, the drinks are flowing, and people promise the world; once in a while someone means it and that changed my life, but most of the time it’s just party talk.

You can get robbed without a weapon—apps, fakes, smooth talkers—losing money that way stings even more when you care about the piece.

When did it click that your dad was famous?

Classmates told me before we ever talked about it at home because we kept life quiet and normal.

When did money feel real to you?

The first time I paid my own taxes; now I watch every account and every invoice.

I love that you didn’t wait on a cosign—you built a show, hired a team, and invested in yourself; how do you make your own lane without getting trapped in my shadow?

Some days I block out the noise and just stack wins, and other days I accept it’s harder and keep moving anyway.

You have to do the work—no shortcuts—and I see you doing it.

Hip-hop used to demand a hood résumé, and kids of rappers still get judged as soft; it’s better now, but bias lingers, and even teachers sometimes test celebrity families, so you learn to carry the chain in love and in smoke.

Gatekeepers are real—I’ve lost deals over industry beef—and I’m still learning daily while pushing toward generational security; stay in the room long enough and the right doors open.

I once moved with so many people that a guy couldn’t even hand me a two-million-dollar check at Jimmy’s; don’t scare the money unless you’re so hot they have to bend the rules.

If my plans sound unrealistic to people, I know I’m aiming right.

I keep goals to myself—cement the name, live comfortably, and make sure the whole family’s good.

For Father’s Day, skip the fancy dinner—bring me a fire cap or sneakers and I’m happy, Burger King run included.

Salute to the real dads and to the moms doing both, and if you’ve been absent, you can change that today—show up, give time, give love; Crack and Kiss, we out—peace.