“I’m Not Done Yet”: Eminem’s Raw Kamikaze Interview Redefines the Rap God’s Legacy

When Eminem finally sat down for his first extended interview following the surprise release of Kamikaze, the world was braced for impact.
The album—an unfiltered barrage of lyrical precision and public takedowns—had reignited debates about the rapper’s relevance, his temper, and whether Slim Shady still had something to prove.
What no one expected was what followed: sixty minutes of fire, fury, and startling honesty.

A Mic and a Mirror

The cameras rolled in a Detroit studio that looked half recording booth, half confession box.
Wearing a hoodie pulled low and speaking without notes, Eminem immediately set the tone:

“I’m not done yet. People act like I’m a relic—but I’m still learning how to be me.”

Over the next hour, Marshall Mathers dissected his career with surgical precision.
He tackled every headline that had dogged him since Kamikaze dropped in 2018—Machine Gun Kelly’s diss track, Joe Budden’s podcast criticism, and the backlash over a lyric about Tyler, the Creator.
But between the punches, listeners heard something new: reflection.

“It’s easy to be angry,” he admitted. “It’s harder to figure out why you’re angry—and what it costs you.”

Calling Out the Critics

Eminem’s most viral moments came when he turned the spotlight outward.
On MGK’s feud, he smirked:

“That wasn’t beef. That was me reminding folks I’m not your retirement plan. You want relevance? Write better bars.”

When asked about Joe Budden—his onetime protégé turned critic—Eminem’s tone hardened.

“I respect what Joe did for the culture, but don’t rewrite history. You don’t get to call me washed when you learned to swim in my wave.”

The Tyler controversy, however, drew a different side of him. He paused, rubbing his hands before answering.

“That one…I went too far. I was angry, and anger makes you blind. I apologized privately. Whether people forgive me or not, that’s on them.”

Legacy and Loneliness

Beyond the headlines, the interview exposed the isolation of a legend aging in public.
Eminem spoke openly about the pressure to remain perfect in a genre obsessed with youth and dominance.

“Hip-hop’s like boxing—you’re only as good as your last round,” he said. “But when you’ve been swinging for twenty-five years, you start to wonder what you’re fighting for.”

He confessed to obsessively rewriting verses even after recording them, fearful that one lazy rhyme could eclipse decades of work.

“People call it paranoia. I call it respect for the craft.”

At one point, his voice softened.

“You spend years building walls to protect yourself, and one day you realize you’re trapped inside them.”

A Rare Glimpse of Vulnerability

Perhaps the interview’s most talked-about moment came when the host asked what scares him now.
Eminem didn’t hesitate.

“Being forgotten. Not by fans—but by my daughter, my friends, the people who know me when the lights are off.”

He laughed nervously, then added:

“I used to write like I was immortal. Now I write like time’s catching up.”

That admission spread across social media within minutes, spawning the hashtag #RapGodRemembers.
Fans flooded timelines with clips of his quieter answers, praising the honesty of a man who built an empire on bravado.

The Man Behind the Myth

The conversation also touched on sobriety, creative burnout, and his complicated relationship with fame.
Eminem credited therapy and late-night studio sessions for keeping him grounded.

“Music still saves me,” he said simply. “Every time I think I’m done, a beat shows up and tells me I’m lying.”

He acknowledged that Kamikaze had been written in frustration—“a middle finger to everybody”—but admitted that it forced him to confront his own insecurities.

“I was mad because I cared. You don’t swing unless the fight means something.”

When asked what success looks like now, he smiled.

“Peace. And maybe making an album my grandkids won’t have to Google to understand.”

Fans React: From Shock to Respect

Within hours of airing, the interview dominated global trending lists.
Clips racked up millions of views; critics called it “Eminem’s most human moment.”
Longtime fan forums buzzed with disbelief at his calm tone—no theatrics, no alter egos, just Marshall.

One viewer wrote,

“For the first time, he didn’t sound like he was rapping—he sounded like he was healing.”

Another posted:

“He didn’t just defend his legacy; he redefined it.”

A Legacy Still Unfolding

As the interview wrapped, the host asked what he wanted people to remember.
Eminem leaned back, silent for several seconds, then said:

“That I told the truth—even when it hurt me.”

The words hung in the air—part confession, part warning.

After decades of dominance, controversy, and reinvention, The Rap God reminded the world that beneath the myth beats the heart of a writer still haunted by his own reflection.
No gimmicks. No costumes. Just Marshall Mathers, face-to-face with the only rival left: himself.

“I’m not done yet.”
Three words that once sounded like defiance now echo like a promise.
And for millions of fans, the message is clear: Eminem may have made peace with his past—but his story is far from over.