‘Cannabis Is an Act of Rebellion’: Latin Superstar Farruko on Weed, Healing and Fighting the System

The Puerto Rican hitmaker says cannabis is bigger than business, framing the plant as medicine, resistance, and a way to challenge the machine that taught people to fear it.

Like many others, Farruko’s first encounter with cannabis didn’t come through a prescription or a dispensary. It came from the streets, from music, from leisure. It happened at home. Among friends, among chords, in the haze of long nights where a blunt of krippy or kush could go around until everyone’s eyes were too heavy to stay open. A relationship between the Puerto Rican artist and the plant that, if we wanted to, we could find in bars that have already become part of Latin reggaetón’s DNA: Los maleantes quieren krippy / toas las babies quieren kush, or Ya no quiere amor, quiere marihuana. (The hustlers want krippy / all the girls want kush or she doesn’t want love anymore, she wants marijuana.)

What began as a recreational experience gradually evolved over time, revealing another dimension. Cannabis was present in both artistic processes and chill moments, but also—perhaps without him fully realizing it—during moments of healing: medicinal treatments, slowing down, meditation, letting go. He discovered a sense of pause, introspection, and the physical relief offered by this alternative medicine, which helped him manage several health issues at a moment when, he says, taking too many pills was already doing more harm than good. Where some still see stigma, Farruko saw opportunity.

Once he understood that, the Puerto Rican artist—a Latin Grammy winner, recognized by the Billboard Latin Music Awards, and a musical collaborator with names like Daddy Yankee, Sean Paul, Bad Bunny, and Arcángel—decided to turn his personal and spiritual experience into a public defense of medical cannabis. He did it from Puerto Rico, and against years of stigma.

That intersection gave rise to Carbonnabis, his medical cannabis brand developed in and for Puerto Rico, with ambitions to reach the world: to make its way into homes, dispensaries, and the hands of anyone who may need the plant’s healing potential. Rather than a celebrity whim to add another asset or simply enter a rapidly growing industry, Farruko approached it as something personal, medicinal, and educational.

In conversation with High Times, Farruko talks about spirituality, natural medicine, prejudice, Puerto Rico, the industry, and reggaetón with a conviction that is unexpectedly clear: defending the plant, he says, can also be a way of waking up.

For Farruko, his relationship with cannabis was once part of everyday social life, part of the same urban culture that also shaped the music he was creating at the time. “I obviously used it recreationally before this whole shift toward making it fully medicinal began,” he says.

What changed over time wasn’t just his personal relationship with marijuana, but also the context surrounding it. As different countries began regulating its medical use and scientific research started to expand, Farruko found himself entering a very different conversation. It was no longer only about leisure or social culture, but also about health, treatments, and regulation.

But before getting publicly involved in that space, he decided to educate himself. “It took me a while to really study it, dive into the topic, learn about it, and find the right people to develop this project with,” he explains, referring to the creation of the brand.

The process wasn’t without doubts. The artist knew his decision could draw criticism, especially after the personal and spiritual changes he had gone through in recent years, which he had openly shared with his audience.

“I definitely had my doubts before getting into it, of course, because I’m coming from a moment in my life where I’ve changed a lot of things,” he says.

That learning journey ultimately transformed what could have been just another business venture into something far more personal. In his case, Carbonnabis does not appear to be an opportunistic venture within a growing industry, but rather the result of closely observing the shift in social perception around cannabis and the increasingly clear role it is starting to play in the medical field.

Behind Carbonnabis there’s more than just an understanding of the market or a reflection of the cultural shift around marijuana; there’s also a very tangible physical experience.

Farruko says that for years he lived with several health issues: recurring muscle pain, constant inflammation, episodes of gout, and difficulty getting proper rest. As often happens in these situations, treatment relied mostly on prescription medications. “I wanted to do it, especially because of my personal health conditions: I suffer from muscle pain, I have gout, and I get inflammation over the smallest things,” he explains.

Managing those symptoms meant taking pills frequently to control flare-ups and pain. Over time, however, the side effects began to take a toll.

“The excess of pills was already hurting me,” he recalls. “Every time I had inflammation, the pill I took would upset my stomach.” On top of that came another common consequence of high-stress routines and constant public exposure: rest became increasingly difficult. “I wasn’t sleeping well, and I started looking for alternative medicine,” he says.

It was in that context that cannabis began to take on a different role in his life. What had once been part of leisure or musical culture slowly began to appear as a possible therapeutic tool.

When asked whether he truly found a working alternative in the plant, Farruko doesn’t hesitate. That turning point—between the fatigue of pharmaceuticals and the search for a more natural medicine—would ultimately become one of the main forces behind the creation of Carbonnabis.

Beyond its medicinal dimension, Farruko also describes his relationship with cannabis from a more intimate place. Not necessarily as a direct tool for writing music or altering his creative process, but as a way to slow things down, something that can naturally coexist with those activities.

“I use it to meditate, to think, to step away and have my own space, and, of course, to rest,” he explains.

In his account, something appears that many users recognize: the moment before using it as a ritual in itself. The simple act of pausing, preparing the flower, and stepping away from everyday noise. A gesture that, in the middle of packed schedules and constant stimuli, becomes an excuse to slow the pace.

“Your brain is juggling so many things all day…,” he says. And for him, that moment of pause begins even before anything is lit. “From the process of breaking it down, having it in your hands, rolling the blunt, you’re already doing it… it’s like therapy. It’s the perfect excuse to stop, think, and take a few minutes for yourself.”

In that way, a simple gesture starts to take on a different meaning. Not so much an “escape,” but a way of reclaiming moments of introspection. “Human beings rarely stop,” he says. “We’re always moving fast.”

Between the noise of the digital world, the pressure of work, and constant public exposure, that small moment of pause—for some almost invisible—can become, in his words, a way of listening to yourself again.

That entire personal journey eventually took concrete form in Carbonnabis, the medical cannabis brand Farruko launched in Puerto Rico. Its name blends Carbon Fiber Music, his production company, with the word “cannabis.”

The project, he explains, is mainly aimed at patients seeking relief from everyday but deeply widespread conditions: stress, anxiety, and muscle pain.

The genetics developed for the brand are designed around that balance. Farruko describes it as a hybrid variety created to combine different therapeutic effects, with broad aromatic profiles meant to make the experience more approachable and personalized.

“It’s a hybrid plant that has that balance,” he explains. “With my plant, we’ve focused more on the medicinal side than the recreational.”

The birth of Carbonnabis isn’t only about seizing an opportunity in a fast-expanding industry. For Farruko, it’s also about something broader: helping change the conversation around cannabis. “It’s more personal, and about educating,” he says. “People have demonized the plant a lot.”

In his view, that demonization coexists with an obvious social contradiction. Substances such as alcohol, tobacco, or even sugar—whose negative health effects are widely documented—remain part of everyday life with far less controversy.

“Everything in life, if you don’t use it the right way, will have consequences,” he explains. “But we see, for example, alcohol is legal, tobacco is legal, sugar—which is the most dangerous drug—is legal. It hasn’t been subjected to the same kind of campaign against it that marijuana has.”

He adds: “There’s also no moment where you stop. Someone who drinks often loses control; one drink turns into many until they’re being carried off the floor. I’ve never seen someone under the effects of cannabis alone, fighting or acting aggressively. Obviously, it doesn’t affect everyone the same way, but most patients and people who use it recreationally don’t behave that way,” he explains.

That double standard, he suggests, has deeper roots. If he had to explain why such a clear distinction exists between some substances that are not only legal but socially legitimized and marijuana, Farruko points to two reasons: “I think it’s big interests and double standards,” he says.

For him, the reasons are political, economic, and tied to powerful incentives. “Everyone has their own interests at play. That’s no mystery, and everyone is going to look where the business is. This is a fight that’s been going on for years, for centuries, I’d say, where the plant has been demonized.”

That shift in the conversation—from prejudice to education—is exactly where Farruko wants to position Carbonnabis. But beyond the cultural narrative, the brand also operates within the concrete structure of Puerto Rico’s medical cannabis industry.

Currently, Carbonnabis products are available in 68 dispensaries across the island, where patients can access different formats from the brand. The lineup includes flower, vapes, and edibles, and so far, the reception has been strong.

“Right now we have gummies, vapes; the quality we’re offering, people have really loved it. The reviews and feedback from the public have been incredible,” he says. In fact, demand has been so high that “it’s almost sold out already. We’re about to drop the second release,” he adds.

Upcoming launches will also include new vape models, new designs, different genetics, and edible products like chocolates. The strategy, he explains, is to maintain a constant rotation of varieties to meet the expectations of a public that knows the market well and demands quality. “We’re changing the strains all the time so people can always find something new,” he says.

One particular feature of the project is that the strains don’t come from existing commercial varieties. Instead, they were developed specifically for the brand. “These are strains that belong to us. It’s not like we took a strain that already existed out there with a name. This was built completely from scratch,” he explains.

Within that framework, Carbonnabis aims to make medical cannabis more available to patients through a more accessible approach, one oriented around the specific needs of each individual. The idea, he says, is that anyone walking into a dispensary can find a product designed for their particular condition. “So they have the opportunity to obtain a plant designed for their condition,” he says. “They can walk in and say, ‘Look, my joints hurt, I can’t sleep, or I have X condition, what do you recommend?’”

And for patients who don’t feel comfortable smoking, the range of formats opens up other options. “If the patient doesn’t like flower, then they have the option of a gummy, a drink, baked goods,” he explains.

Ultimately, the intention is simple: to move medical cannabis out of the territory of stigma and turn it into just another tool within personal health and wellness.

For Farruko, the potential was always there. Together with his partner Eli Estrada, he began developing the project some time ago. “We were looking for a way to do it because cannabis has always caught my attention, and I always saw its potential because it’s a flower. It comes from nature. It must have something that can help us, because nature is designed for that. I never bought the story that it was something bad. We just had to find the right way to use it. To understand it,” he says.

That way, he reveals what the main goal had always been: “I knew that this way we could help a lot of people. The vision was to enter this space and grow, because I think it has huge potential, and it’s something new for many countries where the market is just beginning to open.”

The plants are developed in collaboration with First Medical, one of Puerto Rico’s medical cannabis operators. For Farruko, that decision also reflects a clear objective: strengthening the local industry.

“I did it with the full intention of helping farmers here and supporting cultivation in Puerto Rico, so the industry keeps moving forward on the island,” he says.

Looking ahead, the project also includes plans to expand beyond the island and eventually open its own physical dispensaries. For now, however, the focus remains on consolidating its presence within Puerto Rico’s medical cannabis system.

For Farruko, part of the reason Carbonnabis could take shape on the island has to do with how much the medical cannabis system in Puerto Rico has matured in recent years.

The artist lives there and has watched that evolution up close. Today, he explains, the island has a wide network of dispensaries, multiple locally cultivated brands, and a regulated system that allows patients to access specific products based on their medical needs.

Access operates through a regulated medical framework: patients must obtain a license accompanied by a professional recommendation, after which they can purchase different products within the system. “I really like the way the system works here, where everything is done through a license you obtain with a medical recommendation,” he explains.

That process also includes evaluating each patient’s specific needs, something Farruko considers one of the most important advances in how medical cannabis is approached today. “They check what conditions you have and recommend what type of cannabis you should use depending on your case,” he says.

The result is a market that goes far beyond traditional flower. In Puerto Rico’s dispensaries today, multiple formats coexist, designed for different patient profiles: edibles, oils, topical creams, capsules, and infused beverages. “It’s incredible how much it’s industrialized and progressed,” says the artist.

That context—an expanding industry, a regulated system, and a growing community of patients—is the environment where Carbonnabis aims to establish itself before considering international expansion.

The growth and momentum of the cannabis industry are undeniable, and, looking back now, they also seem almost unstoppable. Globally, of course, but if we turn our attention to Latin America, the progress stands out even more. Uruguay, after all, became the first country in the world to legalize marijuana, and that momentum can also be seen in places like Argentina, Colombia, and, of course, Puerto Rico.

The strong presence of the Latin community and its unique characteristics creates an interesting contrast with the markets that usually dominate the conversation, such as the United States or parts of Europe, especially when you look at the number of entrepreneurs emerging from these regions.

For Farruko, the goal was always clear: “I wanted it to be something grown in Puerto Rico, something that could come out of there, so the farmer could not only see opportunities within the island but also show the world that Puerto Rico can stand alongside markets like Los Angeles or Denver.”

In his view, the island doesn’t just have the musical talent that has turned it into one of the most influential cultural epicenters of the past few decades… it also “has the potential” in agriculture, business, and science to position itself within the global cannabis industry.

But before thinking about international markets or competing with long-established hubs like certain cities in the United States, Farruko believes the first step is strengthening what already exists at home. “Prioritizing Puerto Rico, because it’s my home,” he says firmly.

The logic, he explains, is simple: build a solid foundation locally before expanding to the rest of the world. “You have to be strong at home first before you can go out.”

In that sense, Carbonnabis also works as a way to reclaim local identity within an industry that is often dominated by large capital or narratives disconnected from the communities that historically lived alongside the plant.

For Farruko, the growth of the cannabis industry in Latin America is closely tied to those communities. “First, you have to understand who we are at the root,” he says.

If there’s one point where the conversation becomes more delicate, it’s when the plant enters into dialogue with faith.

In recent years, Farruko has spoken publicly about his spiritual transformation, a personal process that also marked a shift in his public and artistic life. Because of that, he acknowledges that his defense of medical cannabis can raise a few eyebrows.

“In my case, it’s always going to be something uncomfortable for the public,” he admits.

The tension appears especially among more conservative religious circles, where cannabis still carries decades of moral stigma. “Orthodox groups in that space, or religious people, you could say, tend to attack the plant and its use,” he explains.

However, Farruko believes many of those criticisms stem more from cultural interpretations than from concrete religious doctrine. “The Bible doesn’t specify anything about cannabis,” he notes. “It doesn’t say it’s bad. It’s simply not there.”

For him, the key is not absolute prohibition, but responsible use. A logic that also appears in many spiritual traditions through the concept of free will. “When something is used the right way, it can bring multiple benefits,” the artist says.

He also draws attention to what he sees as a broader silence—from both religious groups and society at large—about the consequences and risks of other types of widely accepted medical treatments. “Maybe science and chemicals are harming human beings, and this could help counter that in some way; help patients find a better quality of life without damaging their liver. We see how pharmaceuticals affect the liver and can really tear it apart. They relieve you in the moment, but the condition is still there,” he says.

He also points out that the relationship between plants and spirituality is nothing new. Throughout history, different cultures have used plants with psychoactive properties within rituals, ceremonies, and spiritual practices.

For Farruko, that historical context helps explain why today’s debate is often shaped more by recent prejudices than by a broader understanding of human traditions.

In his personal experience, cannabis has not only been part of his creative process or his moments of rest, but also a tool that helped him manage physical pain and periods of stress. “I know the benefits it has. I know how many people it has helped, and how it has helped me too.”

Defending that position publicly, he acknowledges, isn’t always easy. But he chose to do it anyway. “I’ve defended it with everything I’ve got.”

To explain his stance, he often turns to a phrase found in scripture that, for him, captures the balance between freedom and responsibility: “Everything is permissible for me… but not everything is beneficial.”

Between faith, natural medicine, public controversy, and ancestral traditions, Farruko ultimately offers a simple idea: the issue isn’t necessarily the plant itself, but the relationship each person chooses to build with it.

Toward the end of the conversation, Farruko returns to an idea that runs through the entire interview: changing the social perception of marijuana is not something that will happen overnight.

The plant carries decades—even centuries—of cultural, political, and media-driven stigma. A reputation that, as the artist himself notes, cannot be undone with speeches alone. “Once something gets a reputation, it sticks,” he reflects. “That’s the reputation the plant already has.”

In his view, transforming that collective perception is a slow process. It doesn’t depend solely on arguments or public debates, but also on real experiences that allow people to question what they have taken for granted for years.

“It’s going to be very difficult to change people’s perspectives,” he admits. “But it happens through actions, not through words.”

For him, that shift begins when people can approach the plant from a different perspective: by researching it, experiencing it, and observing its real effects, rather than the narratives that have dominated the conversation for decades. “By experimenting and proving that it’s different from what we were told,” he says.

In that sense, Farruko sees a parallel between cannabis, his music, and his own career. All three, he says, share something in common: they all emerged in contexts where questioning the established order meant going against the current.

“I see it as an act of rebellion against an oppressive system.”

But he clarifies that this is not a destructive rebellion. Rather, it’s one that aims to open conversations and expand the way we understand certain things. “The plant, the music, and my career are acts of rebellion,” he says. A rebellion that, in his view, has a clear purpose “on a positive level.”

More than confrontation for its own sake, the goal is to spark curiosity, invite people to question assumptions, and open space for new ways of thinking.

“Wake up… not everything we’re told is what it really is,” he says. “It’s always good to question. It’s always good to educate yourself.”

Within that intersection of music, spirituality, natural medicine, and public education, Farruko seems to have found a way to align his artistic present with a personal cause that, for him, goes far beyond business.

Although cannabis now occupies a central place in his public discourse, Farruko still thinks about his present through music as well. In fact, one of the projects he’s currently preparing looks backward in order to better understand the origins of the genre he helped take to the world.

“I’m about to release an album that I recorded in Panama,” he reveals.

The choice of location is no coincidence. For Farruko, Panama holds a fundamental place in the genealogy of reggaetón, even though that chapter is often overlooked when the history of the genre is told.

“Panama was a pillar for recording reggae and reggaetón in Spanish,” he explains. “It planted the seed for what would become the reggaetón genre.”

The trajectory, as he sees it, is fairly clear. First came Jamaica, where reggae and dancehall were born, genres that would later become key foundations for many reggaetón classics. Then Panama, where the first Spanish-language adaptations began. And finally Puerto Rico, where the genre took the shape that the world recognizes today. “Puerto Rico gave it our essence, and that’s what we now know as reggaetón.”

With the new album, Farruko says he wants to do exactly that: refresh the collective memory and bring the roots of the movement back into the conversation. “With this album, I wanted to remind people of that history… to bring back that sense of orientation and education.”

Throughout his career he has experimented with different sounds—trap, Latin pop, electronic music—but Farruko insists that reggaetón remains the DNA of everything he does.

“I’ve never limited myself,” he says. That creative openness, he explains, doesn’t mean abandoning the genre’s origins—it means expanding them. “I’m a descendant of reggaetón. That’s what’s in my genetics.”

Over time, he says, his musical curiosity has only grown wider. “I’ve become even more of a fan of creating, of expanding my ear, my creativity.” But even when he explores new sounds, one thing remains unchanged: the rhythmic essence that gave birth to the genre. “Without losing the essence, which is reggaetón. The roots.”

Because, as he says with a laugh, there’s one element that always returns. “The tumpa tumpa is always going to be there.”

At the end of the day, that rhythm is more than a musical structure—it’s part of a generational identity. “We grew up listening to reggaetón, and it’s what allowed us to travel the world and become who we are today.”

For him, understanding where reggaetón comes from is also a way of protecting its cultural identity at a time when the genre has gone global and often loses sight of its Caribbean roots.

From the raw beginnings of reggaetón—an evolution that Farruko himself was clearly part of, alongside milestones like Daddy Yankee’s Gasolina in the early 2000s—to today, when the genre has become a global phenomenon that emerged from Latin neighborhoods and exploded in clubs across Europe and the United States, the idea remains the same: never forget where it all came from.

“What becomes popular isn’t always the foundation. It’s not always the one who cleared the path,” he reflects. “The people who come later, when the road is already paved, move forward so easily and comfortably that from the outside people say, ‘That’s the guy who did it.’ When that’s not really the case.” And adds: “That’s why it’s always important to give credit and bring attention back to how it all started, how the whole movement was born.”

Amid that reflection on the genre’s roots, Farruko also pauses to consider broader cultural shifts. “Over time, imagine… books… people don’t even like them anymore. They prefer them on an iPad or on their phone,” he says. “Times change, and we have to find ways to educate, to package information, and pass it on in the ways technology, humanity, and each generation keep evolving.”

Reflecting on the future of new generations—and of reggaetón itself—while trying not to sound “too conspiratorial,” Farruko believes we’re already living through a massive transformation that affects the entire music industry: the way we consume music.

In the streaming era, access is immediate. But something about the symbolic value music once had seems to have faded.

There was a time, he recalls, when getting your hands on an artist’s music involved an almost physical search: finding the cassette, buying the album, sharing it with friends. “Having a cassette or a record from your favorite artist felt like a treasure. Getting the music was hard. Seeing how your favorite artist lived was almost impossible because there were no social media showing their lives… So when you saw them, it was like seeing an alien, something out of this world,” he says, laughing.

That difficulty made every album feel special, something to keep and listen to for years.

“Those moments were appreciated more. It was more artisanal. Now with digitalization—which has helped us a lot, because I grew up in that world and my career expanded through social media and platforms—we still have to find ways to preserve information,” he says. “Over time everything evolves, technology keeps growing, and we move further away from the physical. We have to find ways to preserve those moments, those creations, so they keep traveling through time and new generations can keep discovering them.”

Today, with nearly the entire catalog of recorded music available in the cloud, that relationship has completely changed. And for Farruko, that also creates a new challenge for artists: finding ways to preserve those creative moments for the future.

Between the plant, the music, and the spiritual journey that has shaped his recent years, Farruko seems to have found an unexpected common thread: questioning the status quo. Whether through an album that revisits the roots of reggaetón or a brand seeking to change the conversation around medical cannabis, his goal remains the same: wake people up, offer perspective, and leave behind something more than just songs.

Before the conversation ends, one final question inevitably arises: what would happen if the Farruko of fifteen years ago, the one behind Chulería en Pote, the young artist taking his first steps in reggaetón, were to meet the Farruko of Carbonnabis today?

The answer comes with a mix of humor and reflection: “We’d probably laugh at each other,” he says.

In his mind, the encounter would be almost surreal: two versions of himself separated by years of experiences, success, personal crises, and spiritual transformations. “One wouldn’t believe where he ended up, and the other wouldn’t believe how it all started.”

The Farruko of today—entrepreneur, established artist, promoter of a medical cannabis project, and a public figure who openly speaks about faith and purpose—acknowledges that the road wasn’t without its hardships.

So if he could tell his younger self anything, it wouldn’t necessarily be about music, fame, or business. “I’d have a lot to say so he wouldn’t have to take as many hits as I did,” he says with a laugh. “It would be a pretty intense conversation.”

But, at the same time, he knows many of those lessons can only be learned by living through them.

Between music, spirituality, and his effort to change the conversation around medical cannabis, Farruko now looks back with the awareness that every stage—even the difficult ones—became part of the same journey.

One that, as he puts it, is still being written.