Today we’d like to introduce you to Humphry.
Hi Humphry, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
My story starts in a rough place. I was born to a young mother who had me at 15, and because life was already hitting her hard, I ended up being adopted by a relative. She was a God-fearing woman who raised me on faith, discipline, and love, but poverty has a way of shaping you in ways even good intentions can’t block. Growing up, I made choices that came from wanting acceptance, wanting answers about who I was, and why my life looked the way it did.
Those decisions led me down a path of drug use, criminal activity, and violence — mistakes that eventually put me in prison for four years. I also had my first child at 16, just like my parents did. But prison slowed me down long enough to see myself clearly. I started learning who I was beneath all the pain, the trauma, and the survival instincts. I made promises to God and to myself that I’d come out different, and that I’d help others do the same. But life after prison wasn’t a straight line. I slipped back into old habits — same crowds, drugs, hustling — until I found myself in another situation that could’ve sent me right back behind bars. That moment woke me up. I remembered my vows. I remembered the version of me I was supposed to grow into.
I went to college. I met my best friend Chase — who became my brother, my manager, and one of the first people to push me to take my music seriously. My mom bought me studio equipment, and that opened the door for me to create again.
Music has always been the thread through my life. When I met my father around age 10 or 11, he introduced me to conscious, pain-heavy music that reflected everything I was living. Those weekends at his place shaped the artist I became.
Now, everything I’ve been through is part of my purpose. I use my story and my scars to speak to people who came from what I came from — people still fighting demons I’ve already met. My mess is my message. My pain is a warning. My growth is the proof. And my voice is for anyone trying to escape the lifestyle and find their higher self.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
I’ve faced a lot of battles on the way to becoming who I am today — more than most people ever realize. One of the hardest moments of my life was losing my younger sister right when I finally started building momentum with my music. That loss broke something in me. It made me question my faith, my purpose, and even why I was still here.
It changed my music too. The joy I used to feel creating turned into sorrow and survival. I wasn’t rapping for expression anymore — I was rapping just to breathe. I was angry at life. I felt abandoned by God.
Death and neglect were things I grew up around, but losing someone that close shifted my whole heart. I had to learn how to turn that pain into passion instead of letting it bury me.
I also struggled heavy with insecurities. I didn’t think I was good enough. I didn’t believe I deserved blessings or success. Whenever people didn’t accept me, or when the recognition didn’t come fast enough, I would shut down or I would turn back to drug usage. I based my worth on other people’s opinions, and it drained me.
Even after surviving everything I had already been through — prison, poverty, mistakes — learning how to control my emotions, starting over, and staying focused was hard. I had to relearn patience. I had to relearn discipline. I had to learn how to keep going even when the outcome didn’t match my expectations.
Another obstacle was comparison — watching other artists shine and wondering why my time hadn’t come yet. I had to stop measuring my journey against someone else’s. I had to learn marketing, time management, how to control my creative impulse, and how to operate alone when necessary.
At first, I only wanted to be the artist — just create and let the world figure out the rest. But that wasn’t enough. I had to learn to wear every hat: creative, marketer, strategist, engineer, business owner. Music wasn’t paying the bills or feeding the family so I also had to work to take care of everyday necessities. I had to build myself from the ground up.
And I had to separate myself from old habits, old environments, and old relationships that were blocking my growth. I had to trust my own vision — even when nobody else saw it yet.
Early in my career, I let trends influence me. I tried to fit into what I thought people wanted to hear. I questioned my message. I tried to conform.
But eventually, I realized I was watering down my truth. My story isn’t for everybody — and it’s not supposed to be. The people who are meant to receive it will feel it deeply. Once I accepted that, I found peace. I found clarity. I found my voice again.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I’m an artist with an activist’s heart. Everything I create — the music, the events, the message — is meant to uplift, inform, and wake up anyone willing to listen. My work is rooted in conscious expression, using words and visuals to bring truth to the surface. People know me for my raw sound, my honesty, and the resilience that shaped me.
What I’m most proud of isn’t the image or the attention — it’s the music itself. It’s the fact that I took pain that should’ve destroyed me and turned it into purpose. I turned tragedy into testimony. My story isn’t fabricated. It’s lived. And that’s what separates me.
Yeah, a lot of artists come from tough backgrounds — but too many glorify the very struggles we should be trying to escape. They turn trauma into entertainment and call it culture. I’m not here for that. I’m here to push the youth away from the things that held me back, not toward them.
My music is real because it comes from real wounds. Real healing. Real growth. It’s relatable because it’s honest. But more than anything — it’s me, unfiltered. I represent the duality of life… the rise and the fall, the shadow and the light. You can’t climb unless you’ve been low. You can’t appreciate the blessing unless you’ve lived through the storm.
That balance — that truth — is what I carry in every word, every bar, every story I share.
Is there anything else you’d like to share with our readers?
Just be on the look out for more content, music and products.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/humphrylolo?igsh=MTNnMmIyaHZ0cjFwbA%3D%3D&utm_source=qr
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/1JWG3hdeGy/?mibextid=wwXIfr
- Youtube: https://youtube.com/@humphrylolo?si=GNbwS1iuVZCbodKa
Image Credits
Chase Currie
