Chapter 1
The Seed of Purpose
"The moment I knew I was meant to create."
Part 1: Early Inspiration
There’s a picture of me as a toddler, holding a toy guitar in one hand, staring at the camera like I already knew something the world didn’t. Back then, I didn’t know what music was or what it could mean—I just knew it made sense to me.
The church was my first stage. Every Sunday, I’d sit in the pews, swinging my feet, waiting for my dad to preach. His sermons were about faith—believing in what you couldn’t see. Even as a kid, I thought deeply about it. Do you believe? I’d ask myself. And the answer was always simple: Yes.
After church, I’d race to the drum kit. The drummer would step away, and I’d grab the sticks and bang away without a care. No rhythm, no plan, just joy. I loved the energy, the connection. It felt like I was part of something bigger than myself, even if I didn’t have the words for it yet.
As I got older, faith became more than a feeling. It was also a culture, a set of rules and expectations I didn’t always understand. Being the son of a pastor, there was pressure to act, speak, and think a certain way. But watching my dad create sermons from scripture and real life taught me something: faith wasn’t just about following—it was about creating. And that realization stuck with me.
"This is where the journey began."
Part 2: Discovering Music
I didn’t know music would be my outlet until I saw what it could do.
It was a quiet evening at a church in Camden, New Jersey. Mali Music wasn’t famous yet, just a man and his guitar, leading the room in worship. But the way he played—it felt like he was speaking a language no one else could. Even without lyrics, the music reached people in a way words couldn’t.
That night, I realized music was more than sound. It was power.
When I got home, I started creating. My first studio wasn’t much—just an old laptop and a beat machine sitting on my bed. But to me, it was everything. It was where I could turn my questions into sound, my faith into action, and my identity into music.
I didn’t know what I was doing yet, but I knew why I was doing it.
“That night at the concert taught me what music could do, but I still had to figure out what I could do with it. And when I told my parents my plans, everything I’d started to believe about myself was put to the test.”
Part 3: Realizing Potential
One Sunday after service, my dad preached about faith as small as a mustard seed. I sat in the pews, holding onto his words, and decided it was time. I needed to tell my parents.
“Mom, Dad,” I said later that evening. “I want to pursue music full-time.”
The room went quiet. My mom gave me that look—the one she gave when she didn’t know how to break bad news. “You always switch your hobbies,” she finally said. “You need to find something stable—a real job.”
My dad leaned back. “You’re going to have to survive in the real world,” he added.
Their words stung. Not because they didn’t love me, but because they were afraid for me. I knew that. But in that moment, all I heard was doubt.
That week, the BET Awards were on. My family laughed and debated who should win while I sat quietly in the background, lost in my thoughts.
How can you watch this and not believe I could be up there someday?
I started to question everything. Either there was something wrong with the faith they taught me, or there was something wrong with me.
A few weeks later, my dad sat me down. For the first time, he gave me advice about my music.
“If you’re going to do this,” he said, “you have to stand for something.”
It was the first time I felt fully seen—not just as his son, but as someone with a vision. The advice stayed with me, shaping everything that came next. It was that seed of faith—small but powerful—that guided me as I poured my heart into my first project, Self-Titled.
Self-Titled wasn’t just an album—it was a declaration of who I was becoming. It captured my journey of finding my purpose through faith and music, laying the foundation for everything I would build afterward.
There’s a picture of me in church, arms raised in worship, completely lost in the moment. When I see that image, I’m reminded why I do what I do. Faith isn’t just something I sing rap—it’s the foundation of WHOAMI? and the journey to discover my purpose.
That’s when I chose my name: WHOAMI? It wasn’t just a name—it was a mission, a journey of faith, identity, and purpose.
I didn’t know it then, but that determination would lead me to the biggest opportunity of my life…
Discover how faith, music, and identity shaped the next step in my journey.