Chapter 4, Part 4
THE SINGLE MOMENT THAT CHANGED MY ENTIRE LIFE
My fans always ask me, “What made you start rapping?” Most people rap because it’s just a part of society and culture now and they wanna be cool. I had to do it because I honestly didn’t have much of a choice. I had to adapt to my environment or face ostracism. It was already hard enough being myself.
The single most important thing that came out of the entire experience at PFA was me needing a way to actually fit in with the other kids and be more than just the white kid that no one liked because I was different.
Being the only white kid in the school made it extremely hard for me. Kids always ganged up on me. I was never called by my actual name. I was always referred to as “White Boy,” and I guess almost every other stereotype you can imagine.
I’d get picked on not only because I was white, but because I was fat, I was short, and I tried to be smart which made it worse. I also had a big mouth and had no problem talking shit back when they started to pick on me. I never once found a way to make friends with the kids at the school.
It was the same process day in and day out.
I’d get picked up by a van, get to school, and get in the line to be checked for weapons.
I’d go to class from the line downstairs except it’d be in another line to go up the stairs.
Do work as fast as I could to beat the rest of the kids.
Eat my thermos of ravioli lunch.
Go home and repeat.
When they finally moved me from the upstairs classrooms (the softer ones) to downstairs (where the hardcore classrooms were) I witnessed a much tougher system of kids.
The kids got tougher and more aggressive. The environment was less controlled, and instead of breaking up the fights, they let the kids fight it out downstairs because breaking it up caused teachers to get hit.
I got moved downstairs after too many violent incidents with other kids upstairs had occurred and I was getting double- and triple-teamed in fights because so many kids hated me.
It was like after 20 violent token strikes you are moved.
So shit got tougher. I was fighting even more and getting picked on even more. I had to find a way to fit in with these kids or I’d always get picked on.
Two weeks after being downstairs I witness something that changed my life.
Two students were talking shit about each other – the same shit that generally would turn into a fistfight – but for some reason was leading to “Ohhhhs” and “Ahhhhhs” by all kids in the classroom, similar to an actual physical altercation, except no punches were being thrown.
I sat there and watched these two students shit-talk each other while rhyming. I had no idea what was going on. Then other kids jumping in and shit-talking too. I was so confused, why is nobody swinging? Why are they so calm after kid A called kid B’s mother a dirty bitch.
I remember the very first line I heard to this day “With that pimple on your nose you look like Rudolph” because the kid he was talking to had this HUGE pimple on his nose. Everyone started laughing and I had an epiphany.
The kids are laughing, they respected him for saying that. Even the other kid laughed.
I love talking shit to kids that pick on me, and they respect it? I NEED THIS! I instantly started writing shit-talking jokes on my note pad. I started making them rhyme.
Eventually, I started battling, and the fighting started turning into battles that made all the kids love me.
My Tattoo of a white kid battling a black kid.
I finally fit in, in some small way. This had such a huge effect on me being accepted in my life, I continued doing it for years and years. I wrote every day – day in, day out -and I studied other battle rappers and battles.
When I finally hit puberty, I shot up like 4 inches and got thinner. I also was faster and more able to fight back.
I worked my ass off to make those kids respect me
When I was finally a bit larger than 5 feet 2 inches, I could fight and stand a chance. Since I was battling so much, sometimes kids would hate losing to me, even if they had planned out a battle days in advance.
I practiced so much, it was all I had and was all I would do. You could tell I practiced almost too much. I had no friends so I’d just go home and I’d write. I would win the battles and they would get mad, and we would fight, except now, I started winning both battles.
Something happens after you get into 100 fights. You actually learn how to do it.
THAT’S WHAT THE TATTOO OF BOXING GLOVES IS FOR
Who had more experience? The black kid who just fought the white kid and a few other people 10 times. Or the white kid who fought all the black kids who fought 10 people, 100 times.
Either way, I really got my act together because after I earned a way to actually fit in, the fighting and other issues that made it harder to excel on the school’s level system just stopped.
So I made it to Level 5, Day 28. After this next page, I’ll explain how I was removed from the school, forcefully.