Transcription
When I first started producing, I was living in my brother's basement, unsure how I was going to afford food or my $300 a month rent. I went from being so broke that my car declined at Starbucks to making over $30,000 a month off my music and selling beats to multiplatinum artists. I had no mentors, no road map, just me failing, adjusting, and trying again, hoping something would finally work.
If I had to start from scratch, knowing what I know now, here's exactly what I would do different. When I first started trying to turn music into a career, the worst thing possible happened to me: My beats blew up. It confirmed all my worst instincts—that I was just naturally gifted, the kind of person success just happens to. And I didn't just take it as a win; I took it as proof. Proof that I was different, that this would be easy. Other producers might have to grind for it, but not me. I started imagining the future. It was only a matter of time until I was rich, working with famous artists and living off my music.
Except none of that was true. I had no idea why those beats worked or what I actually did right. So naturally, the next ones flopped, and I started avoiding posting because every time I did, I risked finding out the truth—that maybe I wasn't as special as I thought. Maybe I was just average. I was going to have to work just as hard, if not harder, than everyone else. And at the time, that was too painful for me to face. So I found distractions. I spent time doing things I was already good at: playing basketball, going to the gym—things that confirmed I was above average. This cost me years. I wasted so much time avoiding the work just so I could protect my ego. If I had let go of that earlier, I'd be years ahead today. I was more attached to being seen as talented than I was committed to actually becoming great. If I had to start over, I'd drop that from day one.
Unfortunately, though, I didn't magically snap out of it. That mindset dragged on until I put myself in a position where I had no choice. I remember I was spending every free second I had on music. I was obsessed. I was in my DAW every chance I could get. But there was still something holding me back from going all in. I wasn't afraid of the work; I was afraid of something else. As long as I didn't go all in, I could always say I never really tried. But if I really went all out and failed, I wouldn't have any excuses left. That's what I was really afraid of. I kept telling myself things like, "I just need to get a little better first," "I just need to learn a little bit more," "Once I've got my sound figured out, then I'll really go for it." But none of this was true. I wasn't preparing; I was stalling.
Eventually, I realized the only way I was ever going to commit was if I made it so I had no choice. So I dropped out of college. I quit my job. I let my entire income depend on whether or not I could make this music thing work. I had to make my backup plan so bad that falling back on it wasn't even an option. And I'm not recommending this to people, but for me, a do-or-die scenario was the only way I could truly commit. It's not like going all in killed the fear; it just left me with no way to run from it. It was still terrifying. I remember laying in bed at night asking myself, "Am I going to be broke when I'm 40? What if I never figure this out? Am I dumb for even trying this?" Eventually, I thought, "If I am an idiot, well then I'm screwed either way. So I might as well go for it."
If I had to start over, I'd put it all on the line from day one. Not because it's easy, but because the truth is the truth whether you face it or not. And the longer you avoid it, the longer you avoid progress. It was already hard enough dealing with my own self-doubt. It didn't help that the people I thought I could trust were piling more negativity on top of it. One of my friends asked me, "What's your plan? Do you think you can actually make beats for a living?" Another time, I got a Beat Stars notification while playing video games and it said I made $200. I was with my friend and I showed him, excited, and he just looked at it and said, "Yeah, I wouldn't quit your job." Even my parents made it clear they did not think this was a real path.
The truth is, it just pissed me off. Not just because of what they said, but because I actually thought they'd be on board. I assumed they would see the dream and be excited for me, but they didn't. To be honest, I was terrified that they might be right. I didn't know how to handle it. Instead of brushing it off, I'd be in the middle of making a beat and I'd catch myself having fake arguments with people in my head because I believed I could do this and they clearly didn't. So now I was stuck in this weird contradiction: Either I was completely delusional, or they were wrong. And I 100% believed I could do this; I just didn't have proof yet.
Eventually, I got hit with so much negativity I stopped telling people. I started hiding what I was doing, not because I was ashamed of it, but because I had to protect the vision. I quit my job and I pretended I still had one. I would say I was working from home just so they wouldn't ask questions. And I would spend all day working on beats. That was the turning point. I quit looking for external validation from my peers, my parents, my friends—whoever. I didn't even want them to know what I was up to. They couldn't attack what they didn't know about. And that allowed me to focus on the work, not the distractions, and actually start to make real progress. Lying about it definitely added pressure because if I failed, I wasn't just a failure; I was a liar and a failure. And when I needed motivation, when I was tired and it was late, I didn't want to finish a beat, I'd think, "Do I want them to be right?" And that would give me enough fuel to keep going.
I eventually learned people are not going to get it early on and not to be bothered by that. They just can't see the vision. And that's fine. If I had to start over, I wouldn't look for validation or try to get people on board early. I'd just keep my head down, share the vision selectively, and just build until it's undeniable. Because by the time it is, you already know it's real, and their approval doesn't matter anymore.
Every month I didn't blow up, I felt like a failure. I'd sell a few beats, gain a few subscribers, see my numbers slowly rising, and I'd still dismiss it because it didn't feel big enough. It wasn't viral. It wasn't what so-and-so was doing, so I didn't respect it. I'd look at famous producers, compare where they were at at my age, and I'd spiral. I felt like I was falling behind every single day. Like the clock was ticking and I was running out of time to become successful. And when something didn't take off right away, I'd panic. If I wasn't as successful as Dr. Dre next month, I assumed it was a failure. I'd think, "This path must not be working." And I'd reset: new sound, new strategy, new direction—over and over again. It was a loop of second-guessing, constant pressure, and throwing away the small wins I was actually getting.
Eventually, I felt like I was failing so much I hit a wall. Whatever I was doing clearly wasn't working. So I tried the opposite. I stopped trying to become a millionaire overnight. I stopped asking, "How fast can I blow up?" And I started asking, "How can I just get better than last month?" That shift changed everything. Instead of comparing myself to some fantasy, I only had to be one person: me from 30 days ago. If I made $100 more than last month—W. If I gained a few more subscribers—W. If the mix was cleaner than last time—W. I went from always feeling like a failure to feeling like I was winning 24/7. And that was so exciting that it made me want to double down. It was motivating. It was sustainable. And the funny thing is, it worked. After I stopped chasing the blowup, it actually happened. Month by month, the numbers started climbing: $100 turned into $200, 200 into 500, 500 into 1,200, then 3,000 to 10,000, then over $30,000 a month. I didn't grow by chasing a moment; I grew by chasing momentum. If I had to do it all over again, that's what I would do from day one.
If you're interested in pursuing music as a career, I have a course where I share everything I know about how to build a type beat business. I also have a program where I work one-on-one with producers, and we've seen a ton of success. One of the members has been posting beats online for 4 years and was struggling to break 1,000 views. Then, after just one month of working together, he's now dropped three beats that have passed 10,000 views. Here's what he has to say about it:
"You've been grinding for 4 years."
"Yeah, I mean I was I was frustrated. I felt like it just wasn't working and I was just like, forget it. Everyone who says online, just keep going, keep going, keep going. But I just wasn't seeing a trajectory. Since the program and since our calls, within the matter of a month, started really popping off. I think when we started I had 500 subs on YouTube and just within the last month that subscriber rate has gone up by 1,900%. So it's fun, right? Like it's like I'm not sitting here hating the new direction and the new style that I'm making. No, I like I genuinely love it."
"Would you recommend this program to other people?"
"Oh yeah, 100%. I'll say what is that 1900% for my... We'll just go with that. We'll go with that percentage."