By Rifan Muazin 
The atmosphere inside AARMY, the elite New York City-based fitness sanctuary, is often described as a cross between a high-octane dance club and a grueling military boot camp. For the uninitiated, the sight of a darkened room filled with stationary bikes, strobe lights, and bodies moving in synchronized, rhythmic patterns can be intimidating. This was the exact scene that greeted a newcomer before their first session, prompted by a viral video of Harlem’s own Ferg—the rapper formerly known as A$AP Ferg—pushing himself to the absolute limit. In the footage, Ferg is drenched in sweat, his legs a blur of motion while his upper body executes complex choreography. It is a display of athleticism that rivals his stage presence, and for those who follow his career, it signals a profound transformation. After the class, the physical exhaustion is real, but it is eclipsed by a "euphoric high," a mental clarity that Ferg has now codified into his newest musical era.
Ferg’s passion for cycling is not merely a hobby; it is the heartbeat of his upcoming creative output. His latest single, "Cycle," released as a harbinger for his next project, serves as an anthem for this lifestyle. Built on an upbeat, funky, 1980s-style pop drum beat, the track is designed specifically for the cadence of a high-intensity spin class. "Come meet me at cycle class," he sings, bridging the gap between the gritty streets of Harlem and the polished floors of boutique fitness studios. What makes this dedication more remarkable is the timeline: despite his proficiency and the intensity of his commitment, Ferg has only been partaking in indoor cycling for approximately three months. In that short window, he has pivoted his entire brand toward wellness, a move that feels both revolutionary for the rap genre and deeply personal for the artist.
The Harlem-raised rapper has been a proponent of physical fitness for much of his adult life, a discipline born out of tragedy. Following the death of his father from kidney failure when Ferg was just 17, he became obsessed with the mechanics of the human body. This early loss forced him to confront the fragility of life and the systemic health issues that often plague urban communities. This newfound dedication to health, coupled with his recent discovery of cycling, has become the primary influence for his upcoming album, Uptown Baby. Described by Ferg as a "workout album," the project seeks to capture the kinetic energy of his morning routines while paying homage to the rollerskating and BMX cultures he witnessed growing up in Harlem.
The transition into cycling was not an immediate choice for Ferg. Initially, he was a devotee of AARMY’s "bootcamp" sessions—high-intensity interval training (HIIT) involving floor mats, heavy weights, burpees, and jump squats. While he used outdoor running for his cardio, the trainers at AARMY eventually convinced him to try the bikes. "I looked in the class and I looked at these people and I’m like, ‘They’re maniacs,’" Ferg recalls, citing the daunting choreography. However, his competitive nature took over during a "Level Up" challenge, where participants vie for the highest number of classes completed. Soon, Ferg was doing back-to-back bootcamp and cycle sessions, discovering that the "smooth" motion of the bike provided a perfect counterbalance to the high-impact nature of his other workouts.
This shift in focus represents a broader trend within the hip-hop community. For decades, the genre was associated with a lifestyle of excess, but a growing cohort of artists—from Styles P and Stalley to Common and Method Man—are redefining what it means to be a "mogul" by prioritizing longevity and physical health. Ferg’s approach is rooted in a "rewiring" of the brain. He notes that seeing older women in his classes "killing everybody" served as a humbling reminder that fitness is a marathon, not a sprint. His philosophy is simple: "How you do one thing is how you do everything." For Ferg, the discipline required to make a bed in the morning, maintain a clean living space, and push through a 45-minute sprint on a bike is the same discipline required to craft a hit record.
Ferg’s deep dive into health is also a response to the "metaphysical aspect of our existence." He speaks of the body as a "machine" that requires specific fuel and maintenance. This perspective was sharpened by the loss of several close figures in his life, including his father, his grandmother, and A$AP Yams, the visionary co-founder of the A$AP Mob. "Once you become successful and you can afford everything in life, there’s only one thing left really to do and it’s to really focus on your health," Ferg explains. He views health as the ultimate luxury, noting that designer clothes and riches are worthless if the body is too frail to enjoy them. This realization has led him to experiment with extreme forms of detoxification, including a 25-day juice cleanse and extended periods of plant-based eating, where he eschews "animal flesh" in favor of chickpeas, seitan, and tofu.
Beyond the stationary bike, Ferg’s athletic roots lie in the streets of Harlem, specifically within the world of BMX. Long before he was a global rap star, he was a "jiggy" bike rider, performing tricks and "blocks on a willy" (wheelies) until his arms burned and his hands were calloused. This connection to bike culture led to a close bond with Nigel Sylvester, the world-renowned professional BMX athlete. Ferg’s inspirations also include the late Dave Mirra, an X Games legend whose "finesse" and attitude Ferg seeks to emulate. While his schedule rarely allows for the dangerous stunts of his youth, the spirit of BMX—the risk, the balance, and the street-level grit—remains a core component of his identity.
Uptown Baby is the sonic manifestation of this journey. The album, which Ferg says is 95% complete, is heavily inspired by "The Rooftop," a legendary Harlem skating rink that served as a cultural incubator in the 1980s. The Rooftop was more than just a venue; it was where hip-hop, fashion, and street culture collided. Icons like Slick Rick, Doug E. Fresh, and Biz Markie were regulars, and the music played there—curated by DJs like Brucie B—helped birth the New Jack Swing movement. By blending the "skate album" aesthetic with modern fitness culture, Ferg is attempting to create a new subgenre: music that functions as a high-performance tool for the body while remaining rooted in the history of his community.
In comparing Uptown Baby to his debut studio album, Trap Lord, Ferg sees a natural evolution. While Trap Lord was a cultural phenomenon that defined a specific era of gritty, dark New York rap, he views his new project as a "newborn" that must find its own way in the world. The aggression of his early work has been replaced—or perhaps refined—into a focused, clean energy. He describes his morning workouts as his "caffeine," a natural stimulant that sets the tone for his professional life. This professionalism is a point of pride for Ferg. Even when performing at high-end clubs like Marquee and returning home at 3:00 AM, he maintains a strict rule against "sloppy" behavior. "You can’t be out here sloppy and drunk and stupid," he asserts. He views his role as a provider of the party, a professional who stays "on point" to ensure the safety and enjoyment of his community.
The nutritional aspect of Ferg’s life is equally calculated. While he doesn’t rely heavily on supplements, he occasionally incorporates vegan, plant-based protein into his shakes. He is a proponent of intermittent fasting and is currently seeking detailed blood work to tailor his diet to his body’s specific needs. A skilled home cook, he takes pride in preparing broiled salmon, grilled beef ribs, and seasoned garlic rice. This level of control over his intake is a far cry from the chaotic lifestyle often attributed to touring musicians. It is a deliberate choice to maintain the "clear, clean, crisp" energy that allows him to function at a high level across multiple disciplines.
Ultimately, Ferg’s new direction is about more than just personal health; it is about community reconnection. He laments the "social media age" where physical interactions are replaced by digital ones. To promote his recent "skate party" activations, he went back to the basics: handing out physical flyers. For Ferg, a flyer is a tangible piece of history, something that can be framed and saved, unlike a deletable post. He is excited about "breathing" and "getting his vision off," using his platform to remind his audience that the physical aspect of life—the sweat, the movement, and the community—is where true fulfillment lies. As he prepares to release Uptown Baby early next year, Ferg isn’t just dropping an album; he is inviting the world to join him on a ride toward a more disciplined, healthy, and vibrant existence. Whether on a BMX bike in the streets of Harlem or a stationary bike in a Midtown studio, Ferg is moving forward, one pedal stroke at a time.
