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Where it started.
906 Pacific Ave, Algiers. My great-grandmother's shotgun house, where the music, the love, and the lessons began. Katrina took the pictures, but it couldn't take where I come from.
When was the last time your first time?
#2 pencils tapping out beats on a cafeteria table. That was my first real stage. Long before I ever stepped foot on a college campus, I was at that table trading bars with Ebony. Those "oohs" and "aahs" from the crowd? That was my first high, and it's where my taproots first took hold. No matter how far I traveled or how high I built, those taproots ran too deep in New Orleans for me to ever lose touch with the 504. My sound ain't backed by industry suits or fake co-signs; it’s built on real life; breaking straight through the foundation. Learning to keep pushing when quitting would’ve been the easy way out. Every track I drop is just me working through life in real time, putting together a puzzle when I don't even have the picture on the box yet.
Now that's Kee. Straight from the West Bank. #WHODAT
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