I picked up a trombone approximately two weeks before I started rapping
11 years old and knowing nothing about a talent
Used to draw and storyboard
Thought I'd do some comics, work for Marvel, I'd be overjoyed
Hobbies of a lonely boy
Games, comics, art and church, didn't get outside much
Except when Momma got tired of me blasting with a loud touch
Put me on the porch to practice
So I developed habits
Consisting of not wanting anyone to be better at the the
Things I was doing
Fast forward to high school, college life pursuing
Sneaking in the rap, was told not to listen to it
They didn't understand I was impacted by the music
My dad felt differently
Had me in a studio in summers while uplifting me
Rapping straight scriptures thinking I would be in ministry
15, dropping more philosophy and history
Than I could understand, but pa**ion started to get to me
Band cla** playing rap beats on the instrument
They told me I acted too white to be interested
In anything hip hop, but then I would be spitting this
Stuff that thought was tight, though they still took some digs at me
Test prep, jazz band and I had the lyrics piece
No cares about ladies being into me
How do I land a full ride, that's what my inquiry was
Still wasn't taking rap serious, but I'd have these
Jams that I'd write
Hit the phone and rap them to my Dad late at night
Spit a little something in my cla**, if they'd like
Then hallway rap cyphers I had to ignite
And all the homies said I had
Jams, Jams, Jams
Jams
These Jams that I'd write (repeat)
Academic problem
Test scores rocking
Colleges are sending the kid scholarship offers
Raising money for a summer camp for art and Drama
They've never had a rapper who could go hard proper
Raised money selling a CD that I recorded
Stuff got sent to Creflo's label then aborted
Knew a guy at a Texas Christian book store who
Went to Church with Pimp C's mom and played my stuff for her (RIP)
She told him that my flow was nice but the beats were trash
Said I needed to learn mixing or my dreams were dashed
I knew nothing about that like I needed cla**
But you know I went to learning, so, don't even ask
Said I could do it on my own didn't need a pa**
Studied beats like it was Calc or Trigonometry
Part of me
Hoped that folks would hear my stuff
Other side still didn't take rap serious, but I had these
Jams that I'd write
Hit the phone and rap them to my Dad late at night
Spit a little something in my cla**, if they'd like
Then hallway rap cyphers I had to ignite
And all the homies said I had
Jams, Jams, Jams
Jams
These Jams that I'd write (repeat)
Senior year handles
Sheltered. Cut the radio like, "Momma, what's a bando"
Momma said, "boy that's what your cousin went to jail for"
I'm like "guess I'll scratch that off the list of what I'll stand for"
High school hallways, searching for identity
Thinking of my pops, he told me find it in the inner me
Cause in me I'm seeing He
Accessing with bending knee
But all I heard from every peep
Was talk about different degrees
Of blackness
Asking why I'm in advanced cla**es
Wasn't black unless I was out clowning with the black kids
Couple dots of chocolate in each would get this action
I guess it wasn't cool til we weren't rowdy in the back then
Still got the respect cause I was pretty dope at rapping
Copped a full ride and dipped out for college track then
No more brains bashing
Somehow I would grow fearful of
What would happen if I'd ever take rap serious
Still I had these
Jams that I'd write
Hit the phone and rap them to my Dad late at night
Spit a little something in my cla**, if they'd like
Then hallway rap cyphers I had to ignite
And all the homies said I had
Jams, Jams, Jams
Jams
These Jams that I'd write (repeat)