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)