Chapter 8

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Note: From here on out, Rakim will be known as A$AP Rocky. And that is him above. 😍Enjoy.

A$AP Rocky

"He was effortlessly technical on the mic, had his own Houston-influenced sound, and the kind of swag that could only come from a young Harlem dude." ~ Complex Magazine

"...get a sense of Rocky as a charismatic hottie - apparently a former fashion student, he even calls himself a "pretty motherfucker" on , his best song, while several articles have referred to his smokin' good looks - whose sorrowful DJ Screw-slow tracks present him as a wistful loner a la Drake." ~ The Guardian

"...ASAP Rocky, child of Harlem, with a new idea about how to be a New York rapper. " ~ New York Times



Sitting in my living room looking at all these articles and the different things people had to say about me, I felt like I was on top of the world. I dropped my debut mixtape Live. Love. A$AP. on ITunes and that shit was being downloaded like crazy. Due to the success of my mixtape I had a lot of interviews to do and record labels coming at me left and right. And these were the people who represented Chris Brown, Rihanna, Beyoncé, and others. But out of all of those, I had to sign with Polo Grounds/RCA. Bryan and I talked on a deeper level after I denied him the first time so I felt pretty close to him than anyone else. And because I signed with him, he gave me my $3 million for the contract.

When getting that much money, if I didn't have any sense I would've spent it all on nothing. But what I learned from Yams, put it to good use. And I did, $1.7 million went to my solo work and $1.3 million went towards A$AP Worldwide.

Some of that $1.7 million not only went towards my solo work, but it made me get off my ass and move out of Yams's place. I couldn't be cramped up at his place anymore, so I got a condo in downtown NYC and I'm loving it. I can do whatever the hell I want. I don't bring bitches over to fuck though, I'm here most of the time just chilling and smoking weed until it's time for me to get back in the studio.

Before the release of the album, with the help of Yams and Bari, we did eventually come up with a A$AP moniker for me. I called myself that Pretty Motherfucker and Lord Flacko but that wasn't enough. Bari told me to think back to any nickname that anybody ever called me. Everybody I knew always called me Rakim until I thought back to Amber. When she was younger, about two, she could never say Rakim. She always said Rakeem. Because of that I told to her to call me Rocky and it stuck since. I smiled at the thought of that because my sister is the inspiration behind my stage name just like Yasmine is to Yams. I miss her so damn much and moms too. I know Amber gotta be sixteen right now.

Damn, I hate I ruined the chance to see her grow up in front of my eyes. I don't get to see her graduate or keep her from getting with these no good niggas. And moms, I knew if I had done things right I would still be with them like we're one small happy family.

I feel a tear rolling down my face as I think about them. I wipe it away quickly and go back to looking at articles and interviews about me and watching my performances. I was watching my performance at the Creator's Project. Man, we were so fucking live that day. Getting the crowd all hyped up and shit, throwing ourselves into the crowd. Now that's how we motherfuckers do.

I was about to click on another link until my phone beeped meaning I got a text message. I checked it and saw it was from one of my managers, Chance.

"Go 2 Drake's site rite quick. It's important," he texted.

Drake, I never met the dude, but he seemed like one cool nigga to me. The way he makes his music flow with his lyrics and how he pours his emotions into them, I could dig that dude. I wonder why Chance needs me to go to his site though. It better not be any bullshit.

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