I.o.u.

# From Kid Rhymes to Eternal Beats: My Rap Journey Since Age 9 with I.O.U.

What's up, world? It's your boy here, diving deep into the beats and bars that have shaped my life. If you've ever wondered what it's like to grow up in the rap game—from scribbling lyrics as a wide-eyed 9-year-old to navigating losses that hit harder than any diss track—this is my unfiltered story. I've been in the rap industry since I was 9, hustling through highs, lows, and everything in between. Along the way, I found family in the form of my brother from another mother, Matt Cory aka Lil T, and together we built something legendary with our crew, I.O.U. (Iowa Official Underground). Grab a seat; this one's personal.

## The Early Spark: Rhyming Since 9, Meeting Lil T at 13

It all kicked off when I was just 9 years old, back in the day when hip-hop was my secret superpower. I'd hide under the covers with a flashlight, jotting down rhymes about playground beefs and dreams of stages I couldn't even imagine. No fancy equipment—just a pencil, paper, and the fire in my gut. By elementary school, I was freestyling at recess, turning heads and catching side-eyes from teachers who didn't get it. Rap wasn't just a hobby; it was my voice in a world that felt too big and too quiet at the same time.

Fast forward to 13—that's when life threw me a curveball that changed everything. I met Matt Cory, better known in the streets as Lil T. Man, he was like the brother I never had from another mother. We clicked instantly over shared beats and late-night cyphers. Lil T was already deep in the game, a raw talent with lyrics that cut deep and flows that lifted you up. He saw something in me, that same hunger he had, and we started collaborating on tracks in basements and backyards. Those years from 13 to 16 were pure magic—us against the world, building our skills, dodging drama, and dreaming of making it big. Lil T wasn't just a friend; he was family, the kind that pushes you to be better every damn day.

## Joining the Crew: Recruited into I.O.U. at 16

At 16, that's when the real chapter began. I was the last one recruited into our rapping group, I.O.U., which stands for Iowa Official Underground. Picture a squad of Iowa misfits, straight from the heartland, turning our small-town struggles into anthems. Lil T was already in the mix, holding it down with his unmatched energy, and when they brought me in, it felt like destiny. I.O.U. wasn't just a group; it was a movement—raw, authentic hip-hop rooted in our Iowa soil, but aiming for global ears.

We'd gather in makeshift studios (shoutout to that old garage setup), dropping bars about life, loss, and loyalty. I was the youngest, the "last recruit," but I held my own. Our first mixtapes? Gritty as hell, burned onto CDs we hustled at local spots. Lil T's influence was everywhere—his diabetes battles made him tougher, and he poured that resilience into every verse. As a group, we faced the grind: rejections from labels, haters doubting our Midwest roots, and the endless hustle of balancing school, jobs, and studio time. But with I.O.U., it all clicked. We performed at underground shows, built a loyal fanbase, and started to feel like we were onto something real.

## The Heartbreak: Losing Lil T at 26

Life in rap teaches you about rhythm, but it also hits you with the unexpected pauses. When I was 26, the world stopped spinning for a minute—Lil T passed away due to complications from diabetes. Damn, that one still hurts. He was more than a collaborator; he was the heart of I.O.U., a rap artist whose talent inspired us all. Lil T's lyrics were fire, blending storytelling with that signature Iowa edge, and he left behind a legacy that echoes in every track we made.

Losing him was like losing a piece of myself. We'd been through so much— from those early teen cyphers to I.O.U.'s peak moments. His passing reminded me why we rap: to immortalize the pain, the joy, and the bonds that outlast us. I channeled that grief into my music, dropping tributes that keep his spirit alive. I.O.U. carried on in his honor, but it was never the same. To anyone reading this who's lost someone: Turn that hurt into art. It's what Lil T would have wanted.

## The Legacy: Still Hustling, Still Underground at Heart

From age 9 to now, rap's been my lifeline. Through I.O.U., the losses, and the wins, it's taught me resilience, brotherhood, and the power of staying true to your roots. Iowa Official Underground might have started in the shadows, but it's lit a path for me worldwide—stages, collabs, and fans who vibe with our story.

If you're out there grinding, whether you're 9 or 90, remember: The game ain't easy, but it's worth it. Shoutout to Lil T—rest easy, bro. Your bars live on. Drop a comment if this hits home, and stay tuned for more from the underground.

Peace.