My hip-hop story begins in 1982. I was six years old. My older half brothers had a huge influence on me musically. They would introduce me to Michael Jackson and Prince, as we were a divided household between the two. To set the record straight, Iād argue you today Prince was cool but Michael Jackson had no peers. So back to hip-hop, in between one of their recitals (my brothers sang and dance with big afroās and even appeared on the Gong Show, at least thatās how legend goes) they turned on the radio. Planet Rock by Afrika Bambattaa. The beat automatically made me move. I couldnāt hold a note like my brothers but rhyming on a beat genuinely seemed like my calling. I would rap the song so much my mom promised if I got good grades sheād buy me the album. Shortly afterwards I was hogging the record player with my one owned album. That same year I heard The Message by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. It was then I fell in love with rap. A couple of years later I would witness and be a fan of some of Hip-Hopās biggest super groups. Run DMC I could word for word almost all of their songs. I was so impressed at my own memory I began writing my own lyrics with the beat in my head, which I would then tell my homey Big Howard and he would beat box and add all kind of cool effects. We would perform in the boys bathroom in elementary and impress the other students. Then we would do impromptuās damn near anywhere. Run DMC were wordsmiths with catchy lyrics. 2 Live Crew came out saying everything I knew my momma wouldnāt allow me to say, so of course I took a liking to them. The Beastie Boys showed me Hip-Hop was growing, actually growing bigger than the original plan as an outlet for a low income African American male to be successful by rhyming. Everything changed in 1987. I was laying on the hood of my momās car with my Walkman headphones on, back against the windshield, tossing a rock up and catching it. On comes LL Cool J, the baddest mutha Iād ever heard. I tossed the rock up and missed it instantly cracking my momās windshield. I ran in the house and told her some boys just passed through throwing rocks and hit her windshield. Sorry about that lie mom! All these years I had been hearing groups, then here comes this solo act I could relate to. Everyone was a group when we competed at school and abroad, I was always the only solo artist. LL Cool J became my favorite. Iām Bad, Kanday, I Need Love, all forever my favorites. His nemesis M.C. Shane also was one of my favorites. The very next year in 1988 shit got super real. The Geto Boys, a group from Houston on my side of town was gaining major traction, I knew then I wanted in. Skip to 1992, my sophomore year at Booker T. Washington. I was now locally known as E-Love or The Kid. I had ripped boys lyrically on both sides of town, as we would meet at different malls in the city and compete. I remember attending a club with some older friends I use to hang out and do illegal shit with, theyād get me into anything in the city. One club night in particular there was a rap performance by a group called the Trinity Garden Cartel. The lead artist was bold and direct, it was like seeing an older version of myself. D was more hustler than rapper, but that sat fine with me. Without saying a word to me he singlehandedly let me know that I could rap professionally, and possibly be one of the best to do it.
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