“I got numbers on my phone that’ll never ring again/ Cause Allah done called them home, so we never sing again/ I got texts on my phone that’ll never ping again/ I screenshot ‘em so I got ‘em, I don’t want this thing to end”

I’ve been lying to my friends a lot lately. Many times when someone asks, “are you okay?” I usually respond with an answer that won’t prompt some response leading to me having to reveal wounds I don’t believe I’m finish treating. It’s been over a year at this point yet often times my anxiety is…


Don’t pretend to be familiar with a pain you’ve never met.

Hip Hop is full of characters. Those who play their made up roles, and play them well. Those who try on pants that don’t fit and wear shoes too big for them to walk in. Rappers can without a doubt lie themselves into success. I’ve once mentioned how much I am drawn to the thrill of horror films that are based on true stories. Stories that you can see as well as imagine and know, in your frightened mind, “this really happened.” …


Good trap music thrives on authenticity and believability.

It’s funny how nowadays making music about cocaine, Kel-tecs and SRT hellcats has become a form of expressive art, and quite honestly, I like it. What we consider trap music has undoubtedly morphed over the years given it’s sound and lyrical content. As well as this, trap music, due to it being fairly easy to mimic, has become maybe the quickest route into the rap game. Historically, it’s existed well before T.I was to crown himself the “king of the trap,” although crowing him this would not be too much of a…


Black women can do twice the work and will still receive twice the criticism.

Hip Hop, at its conception, was a world created by and for men. Often times in the past, women have watched, cheered from the sides and yelled with hopes that their voices would pierce the brick walls built to keep them out. It’s ironic that though they were in many ways not allowed a space within the culture, artists thought it okay to still use them as props. …


Photo by: Devan Bolden/bold.jpg

Some days I have to remind myself that I need God and trust that he can see where I’m at, where I was and where I’m headed. I just pray he recovers this past year that I’ve lost.

When we allow our scars to tell their own story, they will speak differently of themselves than we do. Their voice will be rooted in triumph and victory, rather than pain and defeat. Scars are proof that healing is possible, and it happens. If they could talk, I’m sure they would ask us, “are we not enough proof that you are okay?”…


Photo by: Devan Bolden/Bold.jpg

Only if the world knew, rain comes just for the flowers.

Some days I don’t want to. Honestly, God makes me do it. I never knew water could both harm and help. I am only here for you. I thought you loved when it stormed. Just as babies love to thirst for the warm milk that flow from their mother’s breast. Some days I don’t want to. Honestly, God makes me do it. Why do flowers complain about rain? Paradoxical. Are you not happy when you see the darkening of clouds? The clapping thunder that travels the sky? The wind…


The title of this can throw some people off I’m sure. Just know that I am fine. I am safe. I am healthy. Lately I’ve been reading a lot of my own writing, not to critique it, which is what my mind usually ends up doing, but to see what it makes me feel. Often times I think artists can have the tendency to create art that is not self-serving in any way, or at least I do. …


There he was. No, actually there I was. Aimlessly traversing a forest that was vast, deep, and rich with things that at the time I saw no value in. Value was so existent to me in this hour, as it hadn’t been my whole life. How did I get here? How long have I been here? How long will I be here? If life had taught me one thing that was significant to me in this moment, it was that one day, the truth is going to stop chasing you, and eventually you will die of thirst. …


What I will tell my Black daughters,

Your body is yours and nobody else’s, it exists as a museum for no one. It is no pleasurable experience for just anyone’s hands nor eyes. Don’t be afraid to tell someone to stop staring at you, you’re allowed to say that. You’re allowed to feel uncomfortable. It’s okay to tell people that you are, especially your parents. You have no more of a responsibility to protect yourself than others do to make sure they bring you no harm.

Your hair is yours and only yours, don’t let nobody touch it or play…


Those that really know me are familiar with my love for trap music and horror films. I’m actually really drawn to horror movies that are based on true stories. It’s not that I merely like seeing and hearing about people die or just enjoy the jumps and scares. For me, there is often times something interesting about watching the kind of violence we see happen in horror films knowing I may never experience it, as bad as that may sound.

When it comes to rap, particularly trap music, I’ve mentioned before that I gravitate towards what is real and authentic…

Jaykwon Hosey

Current Undergraduate student at the University of South Florida. Philosopher. Storyteller. Hip hop theorist. Artist with a beautiful garden.

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