K.R.I.T.’s music never fails to hit home, almost as if we grew up in the same neighborhood just 800 miles apart. And despite whether or not he ever matriculates into whatever form of success is deemed “making it,” songs in the vein of “Multi Til’ The Sun Die” stand as a testament to the personal connection with the current pride and joy of Crooked Letter State Hip-Hop.
King Remembered In Time’s closing track represented an ode to dream chasing, but realizing the beautiful struggle of the journey. Doing so is scary; scary as shit, to be honest. Job security is non-existent and often times the main source of compensation comes from seeing others draw inspiration from work created through doubt, struggle and possibly a handful of tears. Leaving an impact on the world and making life easier for yourself and loved ones? That’s what this marathon is about. Or at least that’s what I’ve garnered from the 27 years and four months I’ve been above dirt.
K.R.I.T.’s “reach one, teach one” mindset is an admirable factor as well. He’s no stranger to the strip club, like me. He’ll get drunk occasionally, like me. He’ll sin, like everyone reading this. Yet, at the end of his projects, the theme of teaching a lesson is his singular most valuable influence. His tapes and/or albums from time to time leave every expectation unfulfilled – as I’m sure everything I produce isn’t Pulitzer Prize-worthy – but a genuine sense of effort remains. K.R.I.T. never purposely shortchanged his talent or his fans. The only factor which has ever differed were our preconceived visions.
Have fun, live life, make mistakes, but understand everyday above dirt is an opportunity to produce something with the capability to survive long after our sun dies. K.R.I.T.’s music preaches that, and hopefully whatever the hell it is I’m embarking on does so, too. History remembers kings. Bloody, bruised, tattered crowns and all.