For more than half a century, Smokey Robinson was the gentleman of Motown. The voice of smooth soul. The poet of romantic pain. And above all, the friend to everyone. Or so we thought.

Now, at 85, with his eyes sharper than ever and his voice still dipped in velvet, Smokey has dropped a truth bomb no one saw coming. In a rare interview that’s already setting the internet on fire, the legend named the ten singers he hated the most. And the word he used wasn’t “dislike.” It was hate.

Why now? Why this list? Why these names?

Smokey’s answer was chilling: “I don’t have time to pretend anymore.”

To the public, Smokey Robinson always wore a smile. But behind closed doors, there was another story—a story of betrayal, envy, disrespect, and heartbreak. As he puts it, “Motown was a family. But not all families are loving.”

He recalls recording sessions that turned ugly. Backstage fights whispered about but never confirmed. And phone calls late at night that should never have been made. Smokey didn’t name names for decades. He says he did it for the “peace of the industry.”

But now, that peace no longer matters.

When the interviewer asked if he would start with the person he hated the most or least, Smokey simply said, “Let’s begin with the liar.”

That’s when the first name dropped—and it stunned the room. An artist still living, still touring, still beloved by millions. The kind of voice you’d hear on a Sunday morning, with coffee and nostalgia. But to Smokey, that voice carried secrets.

“He smiled in my face,” Smokey said, “and then went behind my back to steal songs, manipulate producers, and try to erase me from deals I created. I saw it all. And I said nothing. Until now.”

No further details were given. Just a nod, and a bitter half-smile.

What makes the list even more controversial is that not all ten names were from the Motown family. Smokey’s list included artists from the 80s, 90s, even a few from the 2000s. One particular singer, who once called Smokey “a father figure,” made the cut because of “a deep betrayal that involved money, lies, and lawyers.”

Another, a global pop icon, landed on the list for “disrespecting the culture” while using Motown aesthetics to sell records. Smokey’s words were clear: “You can’t take from the house of soul and spit on the foundation.”

Fans are already speculating wildly about the identities behind the accusations. But Smokey refused to give full names—just clues, memories, and scars.

Some of the people on his list had nothing to do with music collaborations. One, he said, “broke up a family.” Another “left someone close to me in rehab while chasing fame.” And perhaps the most painful: “One of them used my kindness to cover up their own abuse.”

Smokey’s voice broke when he said this. The interview room went silent. And for a moment, it wasn’t about fame or soul music—it was about a man who had been wounded deeply, and who had held that pain in for decades.

Out of the ten, Smokey revealed that there was only one person he had truly forgiven.

“She came to me. Looked me in the eye. Apologized. Not for the cameras, not for headlines, but for real. And I could feel it in her soul. That’s the only reason her name won’t be here today.”

But the rest? Smokey said they can deal with their legacies on their own. “I gave grace for too long. That chapter’s over.”

The interviewer asked the obvious question: “Why now, Smokey?”

His answer:
“Because truth matters more than image. Because I’ve watched too many fake tributes to people who didn’t deserve them. Because some of these names still walk around like heroes. And because I’m 85. What are they gonna do—cancel me?”

He laughed. But it wasn’t the usual soft Smokey chuckle. It was sharp, defiant. A man reclaiming his story.

Within hours of the interview airing, fans and celebrities flooded social media. Some begged for names. Others speculated. A few even claimed they knew who was on the list, referencing old beefs, old rumors, old red-carpet side-eyes.

But Smokey didn’t flinch.

When asked if he’d release a memoir revealing everything, he said:
“I’ve written the songs. Now I’m writing the truth. Let the world decide if they’re ready.”

In the end, whether we ever learn all ten names or not, Smokey Robinson has done something most legends never do—he’s ripped the mask off the past. And he did it not to destroy others, but to finally live free.

“I’m not bitter,” he said. “I’m honest. There’s a difference.”

And with that, the man who once wrote love songs for a generation, just penned his rawest line yet.