Detroit native Linnon Stylz walks into the room with the kind of presence you don’t teach—just like his vocals, his music commands attention before he even says a word. His debut single “Robbery,” is a gut-punch of a record. It’s a full-on emotional indictment, dressed in smooth melodies and thumping bass lines, wrapped in the ache of betrayal.
The first time you hear “Robbery,” it feels like eavesdropping on a confession. The track opens like a slow burn, then detonates into a chorus that hits like cold truth. The repetition is captivating, like a man trying to convince himself of what just happened. You feel him still processing, still piecing together the wreckage.
Linnon Stylz’s voice—clear, cutting, and wounded—carries the kind of vulnerability we used to get from 90s R&B, back when singers bled on the mic and made you thank them for it. His style borrows from his influences—Usher, Ginuwine, R. Kelly—while keeping both feet planted in the now, with trap-tinted drums and moody harmonies that wouldn’t feel out of place in a Brent Faiyaz or Vedo setlist.
But what makes “Robbery” feel different is Linnon’s refusal to play it cool. There’s no posturing here, no fake flexes to mask the pain. He calls it like it is: unconditional love met with cold strategy. The writing is conversational and biting, almost freestyle in flow, and yet every word feels deliberate. When he says, “If it wasn’t for my momma, wasn’t for my brother, wasn’t for my baby mother, where would I be?”—it’s not just a bar, it’s survival.
Recorded at Detroit’s Star Factory Studios—a breeding ground for Motor City’s new R&B wave—the track benefits from production that knows when to let the vocals breathe and when to let them bite. Linnon credits the engineers there for understanding his voice inside and out, and it shows. There’s space in this track. Room for pain. Room for revelation.
“Robbery” doesn’t ask for pity—it demands a reckoning. It’s the kind of song you send at 2 a.m. to the one who left you wrecked. It’s also a warning shot: Linnon Stylz is not here to imitate or play safe. He’s got his own lane, and he’s speeding down it with the windows down and the past in the rearview.
He calls himself the “Newkingofrnb,” and you know what? He might not be wrong.
