The previous night, Lanez sold out a 450-capacity sweat box in northern Paris, his third jam-packed set in two nights. He cycles between wearing only socks and Margiela sneakers on his feet. He is traveling in a loose black hoodie and sweats after being reprimanded by French border agents for his shirtlessness. ![]() His past few days have been a foreign-accented blur of interviews, shows and afterparties, Ubers, and relatively constant doses of the primest hash he can get his hands on. It’s Sunday morning and the Toronto-based rapper/singer, who turned 23 in July, has barely slept - four hours since Wednesday, he estimates. ![]() ![]() His eyes flicker back and forth with the passing Beneluxian landscape like he’s trying to make it slow down, see it all. Tory Lanez is leaned against the window in the bistro car of a Holland-bound express train.
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