A conversation about vulnerability, creative valleys, and the power of strategic interdependence
The backyard of MaryMike House was packed, the energy electric, but CyphTwo looked nervous. In fifteen years of friendship, I’d rarely seen him this vulnerable. I’ve watched him grow from a kid testing the waters to a man who understands that the process itself is the art. Long enough to see him disappear for four years and return sharper. Long enough to earn the right to ask the questions that matter.
September 13th, at the recording studio turned event space—formerly WandererHQ Recordings—I sat across from him as he puts the finishing touches on his next album tentatively titled “The Uninspired Project.” Instant flashbacks of Cyph, his dad, Mav(the owner of MaryMike House) and my manager at the time, Boo, discussing the very dreams and goals we are actively living. I was moments away from interviewing my brother in the same backyard that I would take smoke breaks during recording sessions. Everyone came to celebrate the 29th birthday of One Life Cyph, but what they witnessed was a brother navigating vulnerability in real time.
“Music chose me,” CyphTwo said, and I knew exactly what he meant. We both know what it’s like when your gift becomes a calling, when stopping feels like insanity, when creation is as necessary as breathing.
“…As far as the music is concerned, I can’t stop. You know what I’m saying? If I stop, I’m depressed.” – CYPHTWO
Cyph’s grandmother pushed athletics. All his cousins played sports. He tried basketball camp, gave it everything, but knew in his bones it wasn’t his path. What was his path had been there since his father first brought him into a studio at three years old. By eight, he was rapping Notorious B.I.G. and Jay-Z word for word. “Rest in peace to Grandma Chury”, the lyricist said with a smile.
His first mixtape at 14 was called “Prototype” for a reason—he was testing the market, seeing how people would receive what he had to offer. The second project, “Judgment Day,” was meant to be the final verdict on whether he’d continue making music. But when you’re chosen, quitting is not an option.
The Education: Learning What Love Looks Like
Over fifteen years, I’ve watched CyphTwo’s evolution but interviewing him allowed me learn so much more about my brother. I’d never known that his mother was the first person he ever rapped for at 13. When she didn’t believe he wrote it, he wrote a second verse to prove it. That challenge taught him structure, turned doubt into discipline.
I watched him navigate college, studying fashion business while taking a hiatus from music. I visited Cyph once at his apartment off campus to talk life. He was pursuing a degree, I was finding my place in journalism. “College is a business. You got to treat it like that.” Advice from his father that gave Cyph the foresight learn survival, independence, networking—but more importantly, he learned to recognize when systems don’t serve you. When asked whether or not he needed a college degree to pursue his vision, the Newark native simply answered, “no.”
Returning to the social landscape of Newark after four years away can feel like being in the vastness of the ocean. When culture curator Nafi called him back with an opportunity to perform, Cyph had no idea he would be essentially headlining the show. This was the beginning of the “The Rebirth,” his return to the community that had been waiting. Nafi’s act of faith is proof that believing in an artist can provide that spark of momentum they need to get back in motion.
The Uninspired Project: Acknowledging the Valley
The title confused people. How do you name a project after lack of inspiration? But sitting across from him, watching him explain the logic, I realized this might be his most honest work yet. “There was a major point where I lacked inspiration,” he admitted. “But you don’t have to be inspired to produce. You just got to produce. No judgment of it.”
This is the wisdom that comes from years of doing the work. He referenced a concept he’d read: the assumption that you need to feel good, then feel creative, then create. But you can start anywhere on that wheel. Create first, and perhaps that makes you feel better.
“The songs are writing themselves now,” he said. “I allow the record to write itself. Every single one started with listening to the beat and allowing that to take me to the final word of the story.”
I’ve watched him chase lyrical complexity, seen him get caught up in technical mastery. Now he’s evolved into something more powerful—intentional messaging. Trusting the process over forcing outcomes.
“Gagosian,” a standout record from the project, represents experimental freedom—off-tempo, jazz-like cadences, abstract bars. “It was the first time I felt completely free of any boundary I was setting for myself,” he said. “It allowed me to unlock a new realm with the pen.” He’s watching things he wrote in verses become reality.
The Brotherhood: Strategic Interdependence
“Knowing Cyph since High School, it was great to see his brilliance on display. As an MC and a writer myself, there aren’t many other artists that Im honestly a fan of… I’m always interested in his perspective & the rhyme style he chooses to express it with. He is a rare breed I’m dying for the new music. Long Live Lyricism.” – Khalil Jibran
What moved me most was the artistic growth: “Community building is foundational. It’s not optional when you’re pursuing creativity. Community is what inspires the creativity.”
SAFEHOUSE., the collective he built with fellow Newark artists, proved this theory. By pooling resources, talents, and audiences, they created something none could achieve alone. “That was our goal at the onset,” he said. “If we could sharpen ourselves to become better rappers, better musicians, better human beings—that would make us impactful.” With their debut album Safehouse. Vol. 1 and events like SAFEHOUSE + Friends, the collective has made their mark leaving fans in suspense of the next release.
I’ve been doing this big brother thing since I was 16. When my dad passed in 2003, I’ve been sharing what I didn’t have with younger artists who need it. My father was an endless well of wisdom that I would draw from every chance I got. If I had known his time with us would be cut short, I would have tapped into his brilliance with more intention. Watching CyphTwo receive that love, then turn around and build systems to distribute it—that’s the real return on investment.
The Testament: Love as Energy
As the evening shifted from interview to celebration, CyphTwo moved seamlessly between host, performer, and philosopher. When he expressed disbelief that people “really pulled up to hear me rap songs you’ve never heard,” I understood his amazement. But I wasn’t surprised. That’s what authentic community does—they show up because they believe in the person as much as the product.
“When you see me, it’s love,” he said when I asked what energy he brings. “I walk in a room with big energy and love. To bring people together, to be a leader in that way, to be an active member of adjacent supportive communities—it’s an ecosystem we create for ourselves.”
Fifteen years. Same space where we first traded bars. But everything has changed. The kid testing the waters has become the man who understands that imitation is just lack of creativity, that authenticity isn’t optional, that trust—in yourself, in your community, in the process—is everything.
For me this night represented parallel journeys, from Jimmy Dyce to JAMES RASHAD the editor-in-Chief of West Ward Beans, from CyphTwo Prototype to OneLifeCyph the fashion aficionado and community builder.
The circle completes itself. The investment pays dividends. The community moves forward together.
And I get to witness it all as a journalist and as a brother who’s been here since the beginning, watching another King trust his voice enough to let it flow like water.
CyphTwo is building that community online too, inviting people into the process. Join THE UNINSPIRED PROJECT Instagram channel to receive updates and stay in the loop of.
