The Las Vegas MC searches for higher ground, and himself, on his new album "The Growing Process."
Words By: Angus Walker
Photos By: Will Strawser
Two days ago, Dizzy performed to a sea of 10,000 friendly, but particularly rowdy, stoners as part of an all day party that included Method Man & Redman, Cypress Hill, and the Flatbush Zombies. It was 4/20, a big day for Dizzy and his fans alike. “I am 4/20 every day, but when 4/20 hits, I embrace what it represents.” Indeed-- he was caught double-fisting quarter pound joints at the after party. Surprisingly, he looks fully recovered. He’s come to us straight off the red-eye from Vegas-- making it home for one day, coincidentally his daughter’s fourth birthday, before coming to NYC for an intensive three-day press run. We expect today’s shoot to go ‘til 10:30 pm (it goes past), and he’s got Sway In The Morning tomorrow at 7 am. In fact, looking at tomorrow’s schedule, which ends with a freestyle on Statik Selektah’s late-night Showoff Radio, he has just one break, from 6 - 8 pm. “Nothin’ I can’t handle with the ganja,” he laughs, as he gives a furtive glance inside his backpack. Of course, he’s come prepared, and during those minute gaps in his schedule, he’ll supply himself with the necessary refreshments.
Dizzy’s latest album is called The Growing Process, less cheekily alluding to hydroponics than you might think. The title is based on a book by Mexican New Age spiritual writer Don Miguel Ruiz, “The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom,” which lays out four self-imposed “Agreements” one ought to live by. Dizzy titled his debut EP The First Agreement (“Be Impeccable With Your Word”), and over two years later, The Growing Process focuses on the second: “Don’t Take Anything Personally.”
Dizzy Wright released his first project on Funk Volume, SmokeOut Conversations, eight months before The First Agreement (on 4/20 of course). The album went on to land at number 42 on the R&B/Hip-Hop charts, becoming the indie label’s most successful release at that time. Funk Volume, founded by L.A. rapper Hopsin, reached out to Dizzy in late 2011, and, although initially hesitant, he agreed to spend a week in L.A. with Hopsin and then-lone labelmate SwizZz, the younger brother of FV co-founder Dame Ritter. A week was all he needed; it was an unexpected fit.
Search Hopsin on YouTube, and you’ll immediately notice his all-white irises and oversized pupils. Soon after Hop began sporting the “white-out” contacts, SwizZz took on the look of a demonic chinchilla with all-black lenses of his own. FV’s latest hopeful, 2014 XXL Freshmen Jarren Benton, won’t be seen without what he calls his “coon hat,” so looks-wise, Dizzy is FV’s least assuming member. All four Funk Volumers unite on one track off The Growing Process, “Explain Myself,” on which Hopsin takes the hook, singing: “Ain’t gotta explain myself to no nigga.” Dizzy himself has trouble explaining the group’s encompassing aesthetic-- but talent is one obvious link.
Though Dizzy’s only been signed to the label for three years, he’s been rapping for almost sixteen-- since he was eight years old. For most of those years, Dizzy’s had a complicated relationship with his craft.
Dizzy's father went to prison two months before he was born. He met his dad for the first time 22 years later. Their first meeting inspired SmokeOut Conversations (Dizzy soon found out they have one thing in common). Dizzy’s mother was a concert promoter in Flint, MI before becoming the road manager for Bone Thugs-n-Harmony. When Dizzy was four, she moved him and his five siblings to Las Vegas, where Dizzy calls home today. From the stance of a social worker, “road manager” for a five-man gangsta rap group isn’t an ideal job title for a single mother of five. Nor from the bank’s perspective. In order to capitalize on her knowledge of the industry, and keep her two oldest sons out of trouble, she envisioned Dizzy and his younger brother KJ as the next child-rap sensations. She wanted to make her sons industry darlings, entering them in competitions across the country, and even signing them up as youth reporters at hip-hop award shows. She called them DaFuture. Mama Wright wrote all their raps.
“I think that she kinda seen a way for us to skip out on the struggle a little bit. She had a vision and fuckin’ thought her kids had the look.” There’s not an ounce of bitterness as Dizzy smiles, recollecting his days as Lil Ronnie, a name also given to him by moms. DaFuture soon became a trio, joined by Dizzy’s friend Young D. By the time they peaked the interest of several management companies, Dizzy was beginning to burn out. A few years into his childhood rap career, Dizzy wanted nothing to do with the music industry. And nothing to do with his boss, Ms. Wright, either. Times were tough outside of the music, and Dizzy knew his mother’s ghostwriting wasn’t reflecting anything going on his adolescent mind. In seventh grade, the family spent half a year in a homeless shelter, before Dizzy decided to move to Atlanta with Young D’s family. By the time his mom and family joined him in Georgia, Dizzy and Young D had a falling out. Mama immediately took Dizzy and KJ out West, but it didn’t feel like a fresh start.
Although Ms. Wright imagined further career opportunities in Los Angeles, the constant shuffling actually worked against the family. Dizzy ended up attending six different schools in 11th grade, five of them in California, before returning to Vegas once more and finishing the year there. “We couldn’t get too stable. I think my mom was always reaching for the next thing, tryna make something outta nothing, and it’d kinda push us back two steps sometimes.”
In 2006, DaFuture was officially no more, but Dizzy, for some reason, kept on rapping. Perhaps to shed his mother-approved image, he slowly picked up the pen and paper, this time on his own terms. It was a reimagining of a talent that he knew he already had, with no career ambitions attached. Now that mom wasn’t in the picture, rapping became a cathartic channel: “I was writing my thoughts down on paper, and I found a way to put them words together, and I thought that shit was tight.”
At age 17, back in Las Vegas, Dizzy was kicked out of the house and into the streets. It’s a time Dizzy is quiet about both in person during our conversation, and in his music. On his own, he still managed to finish high school, though due to his six-school junior year, he needed extra credits to graduate. He was up for school at 5:30 am, and often didn’t get home, to his own apartment, until 9 pm. Even with those hours, Dizzy was far from a Grade-A student. He did most of his learning after school. Rapping began to develop into, once again, more than a hobby. He began hosting parties with a friend at an underage club downtown, first playing his tunes, later becoming the headlining act. Two club nights a month was enough to scrape by, barely.
Growing up, Dizzy was not necessarily thinking about emulating Layzie Bone, a man whom he today calls uncle, though his early experience with Bone Thugs rubbed off on him. His mom refused to let Uncle Layzie’s music influence DaFuture (they were kid-friendly, remember), but when Dizzy was on his own, he was able to channel Bone Thugs organically. “I genuinely couldn’t believe that five grown ass men could come together and be on some double glock ‘9-5 shit, [and] low-key on some gospel [shit], too.” Bone Thugs used “the harmony” as an outlet to soundtrack, and cope with, their own harsh reality. With Dizzy’s present reality, he, however unintentionally, found some real pain to channel through his music. That grown man shit began to materialize right before his eyes-- and a little weed habit, too.
Dizzy continues to move forward career-wise, though his musical direction has been unpredictable. The tangible signs ($$$) are obvious, but for Dizzy, there’s no surer mark of growth than having Uncle Layzie on his new album. An aura of mutual respect shines through on their collaboration, titled “Regardless.” If, during his DaFuture days, Dizzy initially saw himself as a gimmick in front of his Uncle, he’s now confident to share the same smoky soundscape, opening the track with: “At this point I don’t give a fuck what they say about me.” Though Dizzy would likely earn Layzie’s support as Lil Romeo 2.0, he now knows, as they take the hook in unison-- “We’ve come too far to be taking it personal now that we got it”-- they’re in the same boat.
The next track, “Don’t Ever Forget,” opens with the thuggish, ruggish voice of another veteran-- Krayzie. Though laced in smoke, the kinship is, again, an achievement. “Weed is not gonna be on all my merch for the rest of my career,” Dizzy assures us, though, right now, nailing a smoking song with Krayzie Bone is another sign he’s doing something right.
Then comes by far the loudest track on the LP, “Floyd Money Mayweather.” “Instantly I knew, like, this gon’ be my banger,” sounding even harder after his hometown hero’s recent dismantling of Manny Pacquiao. Though the two Las Vegans have little in common save for their welterweight stature, Dizzy’s not afraid to go for the TKO. He’s been slowly regaining control over his music since middle school, though, even now, critics and fans alike try to preside over his style. Stoners don’t want bangers. Funk Volume devotees are weary of anything in which style comes before substance. It’s hard to deny Dizzy’s street cred standing next to Layzie Bone, but Dizzy’s solo banger proves he’s ‘that guy’ in Vegas.
Fast-forward a few years from that struggling 17-year old who was kicked out of his house, and Dizzy now has his own child to take care of. Dizzy’s daughter, Xhaiden, was unexpectedly born when he was only 20. Within days, rapping transitioned from a serious hobby (like his weed habit) to a go-for-broke profession. He was signed just a year later-- a year that included two mixtapes, and two failed record deals: one, a falling out with Bluestar Records, owned by “Grind With Me” trio Pretty Ricky, and the second, a demo deal from Def Jam which Dizzy turned down for Funk Volume. Before Xhaiden’s birth, Dizzy recorded “Letter to My Unborn Child,” voicing all his fears, while convincing his daughter, and himself, that the future is a blessing. His daughter returns on his latest album for “Daddy Daughter Relationship,” which starts with a recording of Dizzy showing her around his studio. The song closes on an even more intimate note, as Dizzy asks Xhaiden about what dance moves she’ll teach her unborn brother, Ziggy, who’s now four months old. It’s yet another vulnerable moment from a guy who’s not afraid to admit his mom ghostwrote his rhymes for almost a decade. As on “Letter to My Unborn Child,” “Daddy Daughter Relationship” isn’t about telling Xhaiden how to live; instead, saying as she grows, “you don’t gotta fight this world on your own.” It’s about the process.
A similar message is given to a wider audience on “Train Your Mind,” the album’s lead single and the song that most represents Dizzy in body and soul. He begins by name-dropping his three favorite albums, 2Pac’s “Me Against the World,” E-40’s “In a Major Way,” and, of course, Bone Thug’s “E. 1999,” all released 20 years ago. Hoping to give a 15-year shelf-life to his own project, he says, “I’m here to try to shape your mentality.” Given his album title, The Growing Process, those words ring true. Though his raps can sound didactic, he aims to protect rather than to educate. Just as we heard him fearing for his daughter’s coming of age in ‘this world,’ he tells us: “don’t let this motherfuckin’ world waste your time.” Dizzy’s learned that positivity doesn’t come through tangible success, nor worldly advice, but through increased mindfulness in times of turmoil.
“I don’t got all the answers, ‘cuz I’m still finding myself. But I’m still willing to learn, and I wanna push that to the world, man-- be willing to be a student… I’m just trying to be the big homie in the neighborhood that gives some free game. I woulda got through high school a little easier if I had niggas telling me these things.”
We’re nearing the end of the shoot and what little sun we had is quickly disappearing, while a drizzle threatens to become a steady downpour. Dizzy stands on a bench in Fort Tryon Park, overlooking the Hudson River, clouds barely revealing the George Washington Bridge in the distance. We’re looking for a captivating final shot, in which Dizzy takes his message from the classroom, to the streets, and then back to himself-- hoping the scenic view will add to the metaphysical effect. Dizzy’s been pacing back and forth on the bench for over an hour, and it’s starting to feel like we’re asking him to make something out of nothing. We huddle under an overpass to get out of the rain before heading back onto the platform for the final shots. We start rolling again, and, first take, Dizzy nails it. However cheesy as it may sound, out of nowhere, a blaze of sunlight burst through the clouds, and, still rolling, the energy was palpable. Though we could barely hear the ending notes of “Higher Learning,” it was as though, after hours of rehearsing, Dizzy was hearing the song for the first time. As he opens his arms to the sky, smoke begins to rise out of his right hand. He must’ve rolled a little something during our rain delay.
The Las Vegas MC searches for higher ground, and himself, on his new album "The Growing Process."
Words By: Angus Walker
Photos By: Will Strawser
Two days ago, Dizzy performed to a sea of 10,000 friendly, but particularly rowdy, stoners as part of an all day party that included Method Man & Redman, Cypress Hill, and the Flatbush Zombies. It was 4/20, a big day for Dizzy and his fans alike. “I am 4/20 every day, but when 4/20 hits, I embrace what it represents.” Indeed-- he was caught double-fisting quarter pound joints at the after party. Surprisingly, he looks fully recovered. He’s come to us straight off the red-eye from Vegas-- making it home for one day, coincidentally his daughter’s fourth birthday, before coming to NYC for an intensive three-day press run. We expect today’s shoot to go ‘til 10:30 pm (it goes past), and he’s got Sway In The Morning tomorrow at 7 am. In fact, looking at tomorrow’s schedule, which ends with a freestyle on Statik Selektah’s late-night Showoff Radio, he has just one break, from 6 - 8 pm. “Nothin’ I can’t handle with the ganja,” he laughs, as he gives a furtive glance inside his backpack. Of course, he’s come prepared, and during those minute gaps in his schedule, he’ll supply himself with the necessary refreshments.
Dizzy’s latest album is called The Growing Process, less cheekily alluding to hydroponics than you might think. The title is based on a book by Mexican New Age spiritual writer Don Miguel Ruiz, “The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom,” which lays out four self-imposed “Agreements” one ought to live by. Dizzy titled his debut EP The First Agreement (“Be Impeccable With Your Word”), and over two years later, The Growing Process focuses on the second: “Don’t Take Anything Personally.”
Dizzy Wright released his first project on Funk Volume, SmokeOut Conversations, eight months before The First Agreement (on 4/20 of course). The album went on to land at number 42 on the R&B/Hip-Hop charts, becoming the indie label’s most successful release at that time. Funk Volume, founded by L.A. rapper Hopsin, reached out to Dizzy in late 2011, and, although initially hesitant, he agreed to spend a week in L.A. with Hopsin and then-lone labelmate SwizZz, the younger brother of FV co-founder Dame Ritter. A week was all he needed; it was an unexpected fit.
Search Hopsin on YouTube, and you’ll immediately notice his all-white irises and oversized pupils. Soon after Hop began sporting the “white-out” contacts, SwizZz took on the look of a demonic chinchilla with all-black lenses of his own. FV’s latest hopeful, 2014 XXL Freshmen Jarren Benton, won’t be seen without what he calls his “coon hat,” so looks-wise, Dizzy is FV’s least assuming member. All four Funk Volumers unite on one track off The Growing Process, “Explain Myself,” on which Hopsin takes the hook, singing: “Ain’t gotta explain myself to no nigga.” Dizzy himself has trouble explaining the group’s encompassing aesthetic-- but talent is one obvious link.
Though Dizzy’s only been signed to the label for three years, he’s been rapping for almost sixteen-- since he was eight years old. For most of those years, Dizzy’s had a complicated relationship with his craft.
Dizzy's father went to prison two months before he was born. He met his dad for the first time 22 years later. Their first meeting inspired SmokeOut Conversations (Dizzy soon found out they have one thing in common). Dizzy’s mother was a concert promoter in Flint, MI before becoming the road manager for Bone Thugs-n-Harmony. When Dizzy was four, she moved him and his five siblings to Las Vegas, where Dizzy calls home today. From the stance of a social worker, “road manager” for a five-man gangsta rap group isn’t an ideal job title for a single mother of five. Nor from the bank’s perspective. In order to capitalize on her knowledge of the industry, and keep her two oldest sons out of trouble, she envisioned Dizzy and his younger brother KJ as the next child-rap sensations. She wanted to make her sons industry darlings, entering them in competitions across the country, and even signing them up as youth reporters at hip-hop award shows. She called them DaFuture. Mama Wright wrote all their raps.
“I think that she kinda seen a way for us to skip out on the struggle a little bit. She had a vision and fuckin’ thought her kids had the look.” There’s not an ounce of bitterness as Dizzy smiles, recollecting his days as Lil Ronnie, a name also given to him by moms. DaFuture soon became a trio, joined by Dizzy’s friend Young D. By the time they peaked the interest of several management companies, Dizzy was beginning to burn out. A few years into his childhood rap career, Dizzy wanted nothing to do with the music industry. And nothing to do with his boss, Ms. Wright, either. Times were tough outside of the music, and Dizzy knew his mother’s ghostwriting wasn’t reflecting anything going on his adolescent mind. In seventh grade, the family spent half a year in a homeless shelter, before Dizzy decided to move to Atlanta with Young D’s family. By the time his mom and family joined him in Georgia, Dizzy and Young D had a falling out. Mama immediately took Dizzy and KJ out West, but it didn’t feel like a fresh start.
Although Ms. Wright imagined further career opportunities in Los Angeles, the constant shuffling actually worked against the family. Dizzy ended up attending six different schools in 11th grade, five of them in California, before returning to Vegas once more and finishing the year there. “We couldn’t get too stable. I think my mom was always reaching for the next thing, tryna make something outta nothing, and it’d kinda push us back two steps sometimes.”
In 2006, DaFuture was officially no more, but Dizzy, for some reason, kept on rapping. Perhaps to shed his mother-approved image, he slowly picked up the pen and paper, this time on his own terms. It was a reimagining of a talent that he knew he already had, with no career ambitions attached. Now that mom wasn’t in the picture, rapping became a cathartic channel: “I was writing my thoughts down on paper, and I found a way to put them words together, and I thought that shit was tight.”
At age 17, back in Las Vegas, Dizzy was kicked out of the house and into the streets. It’s a time Dizzy is quiet about both in person during our conversation, and in his music. On his own, he still managed to finish high school, though due to his six-school junior year, he needed extra credits to graduate. He was up for school at 5:30 am, and often didn’t get home, to his own apartment, until 9 pm. Even with those hours, Dizzy was far from a Grade-A student. He did most of his learning after school. Rapping began to develop into, once again, more than a hobby. He began hosting parties with a friend at an underage club downtown, first playing his tunes, later becoming the headlining act. Two club nights a month was enough to scrape by, barely.
Growing up, Dizzy was not necessarily thinking about emulating Layzie Bone, a man whom he today calls uncle, though his early experience with Bone Thugs rubbed off on him. His mom refused to let Uncle Layzie’s music influence DaFuture (they were kid-friendly, remember), but when Dizzy was on his own, he was able to channel Bone Thugs organically. “I genuinely couldn’t believe that five grown ass men could come together and be on some double glock ‘9-5 shit, [and] low-key on some gospel [shit], too.” Bone Thugs used “the harmony” as an outlet to soundtrack, and cope with, their own harsh reality. With Dizzy’s present reality, he, however unintentionally, found some real pain to channel through his music. That grown man shit began to materialize right before his eyes-- and a little weed habit, too.
Dizzy continues to move forward career-wise, though his musical direction has been unpredictable. The tangible signs ($$$) are obvious, but for Dizzy, there’s no surer mark of growth than having Uncle Layzie on his new album. An aura of mutual respect shines through on their collaboration, titled “Regardless.” If, during his DaFuture days, Dizzy initially saw himself as a gimmick in front of his Uncle, he’s now confident to share the same smoky soundscape, opening the track with: “At this point I don’t give a fuck what they say about me.” Though Dizzy would likely earn Layzie’s support as Lil Romeo 2.0, he now knows, as they take the hook in unison-- “We’ve come too far to be taking it personal now that we got it”-- they’re in the same boat.
The next track, “Don’t Ever Forget,” opens with the thuggish, ruggish voice of another veteran-- Krayzie. Though laced in smoke, the kinship is, again, an achievement. “Weed is not gonna be on all my merch for the rest of my career,” Dizzy assures us, though, right now, nailing a smoking song with Krayzie Bone is another sign he’s doing something right.
Then comes by far the loudest track on the LP, “Floyd Money Mayweather.” “Instantly I knew, like, this gon’ be my banger,” sounding even harder after his hometown hero’s recent dismantling of Manny Pacquiao. Though the two Las Vegans have little in common save for their welterweight stature, Dizzy’s not afraid to go for the TKO. He’s been slowly regaining control over his music since middle school, though, even now, critics and fans alike try to preside over his style. Stoners don’t want bangers. Funk Volume devotees are weary of anything in which style comes before substance. It’s hard to deny Dizzy’s street cred standing next to Layzie Bone, but Dizzy’s solo banger proves he’s ‘that guy’ in Vegas.
Fast-forward a few years from that struggling 17-year old who was kicked out of his house, and Dizzy now has his own child to take care of. Dizzy’s daughter, Xhaiden, was unexpectedly born when he was only 20. Within days, rapping transitioned from a serious hobby (like his weed habit) to a go-for-broke profession. He was signed just a year later-- a year that included two mixtapes, and two failed record deals: one, a falling out with Bluestar Records, owned by “Grind With Me” trio Pretty Ricky, and the second, a demo deal from Def Jam which Dizzy turned down for Funk Volume. Before Xhaiden’s birth, Dizzy recorded “Letter to My Unborn Child,” voicing all his fears, while convincing his daughter, and himself, that the future is a blessing. His daughter returns on his latest album for “Daddy Daughter Relationship,” which starts with a recording of Dizzy showing her around his studio. The song closes on an even more intimate note, as Dizzy asks Xhaiden about what dance moves she’ll teach her unborn brother, Ziggy, who’s now four months old. It’s yet another vulnerable moment from a guy who’s not afraid to admit his mom ghostwrote his rhymes for almost a decade. As on “Letter to My Unborn Child,” “Daddy Daughter Relationship” isn’t about telling Xhaiden how to live; instead, saying as she grows, “you don’t gotta fight this world on your own.” It’s about the process.
A similar message is given to a wider audience on “Train Your Mind,” the album’s lead single and the song that most represents Dizzy in body and soul. He begins by name-dropping his three favorite albums, 2Pac’s “Me Against the World,” E-40’s “In a Major Way,” and, of course, Bone Thug’s “E. 1999,” all released 20 years ago. Hoping to give a 15-year shelf-life to his own project, he says, “I’m here to try to shape your mentality.” Given his album title, The Growing Process, those words ring true. Though his raps can sound didactic, he aims to protect rather than to educate. Just as we heard him fearing for his daughter’s coming of age in ‘this world,’ he tells us: “don’t let this motherfuckin’ world waste your time.” Dizzy’s learned that positivity doesn’t come through tangible success, nor worldly advice, but through increased mindfulness in times of turmoil.
“I don’t got all the answers, ‘cuz I’m still finding myself. But I’m still willing to learn, and I wanna push that to the world, man-- be willing to be a student… I’m just trying to be the big homie in the neighborhood that gives some free game. I woulda got through high school a little easier if I had niggas telling me these things.”
We’re nearing the end of the shoot and what little sun we had is quickly disappearing, while a drizzle threatens to become a steady downpour. Dizzy stands on a bench in Fort Tryon Park, overlooking the Hudson River, clouds barely revealing the George Washington Bridge in the distance. We’re looking for a captivating final shot, in which Dizzy takes his message from the classroom, to the streets, and then back to himself-- hoping the scenic view will add to the metaphysical effect. Dizzy’s been pacing back and forth on the bench for over an hour, and it’s starting to feel like we’re asking him to make something out of nothing. We huddle under an overpass to get out of the rain before heading back onto the platform for the final shots. We start rolling again, and, first take, Dizzy nails it. However cheesy as it may sound, out of nowhere, a blaze of sunlight burst through the clouds, and, still rolling, the energy was palpable. Though we could barely hear the ending notes of “Higher Learning,” it was as though, after hours of rehearsing, Dizzy was hearing the song for the first time. As he opens his arms to the sky, smoke begins to rise out of his right hand. He must’ve rolled a little something during our rain delay.
Tell us who else you'd like to see get a digital cover. And what do you think of this one??
FBZs
Spitta always gonna be fire but for real - Isaiah Rashad would be the best one you could do, his backstory, music and vibe would make for a crazy cover story and you know it Rose
Do a curren$y one, these cover stories are great
tory lanez, g eazy and nipsey hussle
Joey Bad for sure
TOKES - @SIRXTOKES
btw this spread is AWESOME
Tech N9ne deserves this type of spread. He's underground and never a sellout
the layout was amazing. I'd like to see some pro era people on here or TDE, dreamville, vic mensa?
def mick jenkins
QUEEN Bee
G-Eazy
I'd like to see my boy Rittz on one of these digital covers.. And this one was dope, Dizzy's The Growing Process is a dope sophomore release from him.
tory lanez
dope do mick or isaiah rashad
Father, Action Bronson, Future and maybe some producers like Boi-1da, Hit-Boy and all of HS87.. and either Metro Boomin or the 808 Mafia collective.. all would be dope articles
We did Action Bronson! But thanks for the suggestions http://www.hotnewhiphop.com/cover-story/action-bronson/
Dope!
Tell us who else you'd like to see get a digital cover. And what do you think of this one??
tinashe or honey cocaine
Rose this is dope..seriously. doper than the one for Action Bronson.. out of curiosity, can artists pay for this type of spotlight? if so, whats the fee? I'd love to discuss potential opportunities. I'm a 4 time heatseeker winner and would def pay for this type of promo. Great work.
Get Gucci Mane once he's free!
obviously Ty dolla sign. gotta make that happen
Tory Lanez
G-Eazy
Tory Lanez or Weeknd would be dope
Bizzy Crook needs a Digital Cover
Cudi!