Hustle culture shaped me long before I ever touched a film.

 

From Jay-Z to 50 Cent, Master P to T.I., the message was consistent: where you start doesn’t get to decide where you finish. Growing up in poverty and scarcity, hustle wasn’t glorified—it was necessary. It was hope in motion. It was the belief that effort, vision, and persistence could create an exit where none seemed visible.

 

Like a lot of kids from where I’m from, I looked at music as the way out. In some ways, that dream never fully materialized. In other ways, the essence of it absolutely did. The dream didn’t disappear—it evolved.

 

Today, that evolution lives in film.

 

Making motion pictures is even more rewarding to me than making music ever was. Film allows me to combine every talent God placed in me—storytelling, rhythm, visual language, discipline—and forces me to develop new ones. I don’t see filmmaking as “making movies.” I see it as making art. Living, breathing art that carries intention, struggle, and truth.

 

My personal hustle growing up was cutting hair. Clippers in hand, learning people, learning patience, learning how to build something from nothing. The Ace of Fadez is my way of paying homage to that hustle—to barbershops, to grinders, to the everyday creators who kept faith alive by staying in motion.

 

Hip hop was the soundtrack to that grind. It raised me. It informed me. It reminded me that success was possible, even when it felt slightly out of reach. Artists like T.I. didn’t just represent success—they personified it. They showed what momentum, discipline, and vision could look like when applied consistently. For that, I salute and pay homage.

 

I was fortunate enough to chop it up with T.I. about filmmaking while I was deep in the process of creating The Ace of Fadez. I mentioned the film I’d been working on and floated the idea of possibly co-creating one day. Months later, he was premiering Da ‘Partments. That’s real hustle. That’s momentum. That’s understanding how to move when opportunity meets preparation.

 

It took me years—literally a lifetime of experiences—to make one film. Watching someone turn vision into execution that fast didn’t discourage me. It confirmed something important: stay in your lane, move at your pace, and honor the process. Hustle doesn’t have one speed—it has commitment.

 

I also want to pay homage to Nipsey Hussle, who introduced me to the concept of vertical integration through the lens of ownership and control—principles inspired by Steve Jobs’ business model. That seed changed how I look at creation. Ownership matters. Infrastructure matters. Longevity matters.

 

And salute to Steve Jobs for simply being him. Without his vision, I wouldn’t have had the tools to make my first film at all.

 

At the end of the day, hustle culture kept hope alive in me. It gave shape to possibility. It taught me that faith without movement is incomplete—and that when you acknowledge God early in the process, He sustains what you build.

 

The Ace of Fadez is my thank-you.

To the culture.

To the grind.

To the hope that never quit.