Transcript
Introduction
“It was the '70s, and heroin was still heavy in the hood. Unpredictability was one of the things that we counted on. Like the day when I wandered up to something I've never seen before, a cipher, but I wouldn't have called it that. No one would have back then. I shouldered my way through the crowd towards the middle. It felt like gravity pulling me into that swirl of kids, no b*******, like a planet being pulled into orbit by a star. His name was Slate, and he was a kid I used to see around the neighborhood, an older kid who had barely made an impression on me. In that circle, though, he was transformed, like the church ladies touched by the spirit, and everyone was mesmerized. He was rhyming, throwing out couplet after couplet, like he was in a trance for a crazy long time, 30 minutes straight off the top of his head, never losing the beat, riding the hand claps.
He rhymed about nothing, the sidewalk, the benches, or he'd go in on the kids who were standing around listening to him. And then he'd go in on how clean he was, how nice he was with the ball, how all the girls loved him. Then he'd start rhyming about the rhymes themselves, how good they were, how much better they were than yours, and how he was the best that ever did it. All he had were his eyes, taking in everything and the words inside him. I was dazzled, ‘That's some cool s***,’ was the first thing I thought. Then I could do that.
That night, I started writing rhymes in my notebook. From the beginning, it was easy, a constant flow. For days, I filled page after page. Then I'd bang out a beat on the table, my bedroom window, whatever had a flat surface, and practice from the time I woke in the morning until I went to sleep. I saw it as an opening, a way to recreate myself and reimagine my world. After I recorded a rhyme, it gave me an unbelievable rush to play it back, to hear that voice. Everywhere I went, I'd write. If I was crossing the street with my friends and a rhyme came to me, I'd break out my binder, spread it on a mailbox or a lamppost, and write the rhyme before I cross the street. Even back then, I thought I was the best. I'd spend my free time reading the dictionary, building my vocabulary. I could be ruthless, calm as f*** on the outside, but flooded with adrenaline. I wasn't even in high school yet, and I discovered my voice.”
That is an excerpt from the book I'm going to talk to you about today, which is Jay-Z's memoir, and it's called Decoded. Before I jump back into the book, just real quick, I get messages every week for people asking how they can buy gift subscriptions to Founders for other people. There's always a link in the show notes in the Misfit Feed. You'll see Buy Gift Subscription. And if you don't see it there, you can always go to founderspodcast.com, and you'll see it in the header, and you can buy a gift subscription for like a few months, a year. And now there's a lifetime gift subscription option as well.