Cairo, Illinois rapper 36 Mudd steps into a new chapter with “Soul Steppin,” a deeply personal three-track single shaped by the loss of his brother Terrell Johnson, known as Folkz36, who passed away in 2022. At just over seven minutes, the project is brief on paper, but its emotional force, street-rooted presence, and spiritual charge give it the weight of something far larger than a standard release.
Coming out of Cairo, Illinois, a small town made up of roughly 40 blocks, 36 Mudd has built his name on a sense of reality that feels hard to fake. After gaining momentum at home, his breakout single “My Way” carried his sound beyond local recognition, connecting him with listeners in surrounding cities, across state lines, and eventually within the wider hip-hop landscape. What separates 36 Mudd is the lived-in quality of the music. His voice and delivery matter, but the deeper pull comes from the way his lyrics land. They feel less like performance than testimony.
On “Soul Steppin,” 36 Mudd turns pain into motion. The project works as a tribute to Folkz36, a meditation on grief, and a declaration that loss does not stop the soul from moving forward. The cover art sets that tone immediately, using a dark, monochrome, street-documentary-style image that feels intimate, heavy, and memorial in spirit. Shadowy figures, dim lighting, and the stark parental advisory stamp give the release an underground intensity, while the title “Soul Steppin” points to something more interior: walking through pain, carrying memory, and surviving with purpose.
The opener, “Different” with Folkz36, drops listeners directly into 36 Mudd’s world. Built around ominous, stripped-back production, the track leans on cinematic piano lines, haunting synth textures, and sparse atmospheric detail. Heavy 808s and deep, booming bass keep it grounded without swallowing the emotion, while crisp snares, punchy kicks, and sharp hi-hat rolls give the record its restless backbone. Mudd’s delivery is confident, conversational, and commanding, carrying calm assurance with a quiet menace that makes each bar feel deliberate.
The second track, “Found Em,” settles into a more laid-back rhythm while keeping the same haunted edge. It is emotionally driven, giving 36 Mudd room to perform from a place that feels genuinely personal. The production leaves enough space for the feeling to breathe, and that restraint helps the emotional pull hit harder. This is the kind of record that does not need to explain itself at length. The weight sits in the tone, the presence, and the soul behind the performance.
The closing track, “All I Ever,” moves the project into a hypnotic Southern trap lane. Its production is simple by design, repeating just enough to strip the record down to its essentials, with booming 808s, open space, and catchy vocal patterns pushed to the front. The song lands as a self-empowering hustler’s anthem, turning struggle into celebration without losing sight of what came before it. With memorable hooks and anthemic verses, “All I Ever” gives “Soul Steppin” a triumphant edge, ending the project with resilience and forward motion.
Across its three tracks, “Soul Steppin” captures 36 Mudd in a moment of transition. He remains tied to the block, the losses, the memories, and the environment that shaped him, yet the music makes clear that he is reaching toward something larger. The project never dilutes his identity in search of wider appeal. It sharpens it. This is street music with a soul, trap music with a memorial heartbeat, and a personal tribute that also feels like a statement of arrival.
With “Soul Steppin,” 36 Mudd shows that his story reaches beyond Cairo’s 40 blocks. It is a story of pain, loyalty, survival, brotherhood, and elevation. As he keeps moving from the streets toward the big stage, this project stands as one of his most meaningful releases yet.
