It was 2:30 AM in the studio, and the same four-bar loop had been playing on repeat for two hours.
My head was in my hands, my notebook was completely blank, and the beat was starting to feel like a headache. I was tired, frustrated, and asking myself the same question I think every creative and believer eventually hits: “Why am I even forcing this right now?”
When you look at my social media or see me on stage spitting bars, it looks like a constant high. People think being a gospel rap artist means you’re just permanently plugged into some supernatural bolt of divine inspiration—that every time I sit down at the desk, the sky opens up and a track just writes itself.
I’m here to tell you that’s a lie.
Inspiration is a terrible foundation to build your life on. Hype dies. Emotions crash. The high of a new project fades after a few weeks. If I only wrote songs, prayed, hit the gym, or served God when I "felt" like it, I wouldn't have a single album out, and my brand wouldn't exist.
