Thirty-two years ago, a star was born. Since then, J. Cole’s earned critical acclaim and multiple plaques to his name, all while morphing from Young Simba into a rap king. In honor of his 32nd birthday (on Jan. 28), Genius looked through his discography to piece together a biography using only his rhymes. Click through each highlighted line for the source of his quotes (desktop only) and enjoy J. Cole’s life in lyrics.

Prologue: Hello

When my story’s told, how will they tell it? Will they say I was a giver or remember I was selfish? Will they say I was a sinner or pretend I was a saint? Will I go down as a winner? What’s the picture they gon' paint? I don’t even know. But this is my canvas. I’ma paint it how I want it.

Welcome to the life of a nice brother. I present to you the story of a young man from North Carolina, who left everyone and everything he loved. He ain’t have a mother fuckin' thing, just a dollar and a dream. Let it be known: dreams come true and when they do, it’s a beautiful thing.

Allow me to re-introduce myself. My name is Jermaine Cole. J. Cole is what you know me as. Pardon me ya’ll, I’m just flipping through some Kodaks. I can’t forget my past. So this just a compilation of my observations. I sit back and reflect on the rap game, reflect on my pain, war stories, tour stories. Remember ‘MTV Diaries’? This something like that. A part of history. Just tellin' my story, scattered thoughts, memories from every friend to every sin. Is this too deep for the intro? Sit back, enjoy the ride and pick apart my raps. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present to you, J. Cole.

Chapter 1: January 28th (1985-1995)

Birth date: January 28th. 80’s baby. Young, black, gifted. Light skind-ed, black father, white mother. My daddy was so thrilled when he found him a white girl to take back to Jonesboro. With ‘lil Zach and Cole, barely one years old. Now it’s thirty years later, making sure this story’s told.

I ain’t grow up with my father. At age three, I knew this world was three below. I think about my childhood. Front teeth missing in my smile. Snaggletooth nigga for a while. Liftin’ up my pillow, tooth fairy never came around. We was po’, but I ain’t know.

I grew up with nothin’. From them N.C. streets where killers hung at and slung crack for leisure. Fayetnam to be exact. It was just me and my brother Zach and my mother played father, ‘cause no other man bothered. Barely gettin’ by. It hurt me to see my mother poor, sewing patches on my holes. I had the light blue jeans with the green patches in like first grade, man.

“I grew up with nothin’. From them N.C. streets where killers hung at and slung crack for leisure.”

I was such a cunning child. Academically gifted and followed my own rules. Got good grades but As can’t stop strays so pray for me. Just another sign saying life ain’t fair. There I was with hand-me downs. Turned into the class clown, teachers couldn’t stand me. Defense mechanism, lookin' for attention with this crooked smile. Mouth open at the mirror daily. Lookin', wondering how my teeth would grow. They came slow and out of line.

At the time, I got a step-pops. Sensed danger in my house with a stranger in my house. My biological, James Cole, would only call monthly, barely ever saw me. Spent some summers with him. Played with my cousin Maury. I accepted it cause I ain’t know no better. And that’s a shame cause our last name is the same and that blood type flowing through our veins is the same. That’s life.

Chapter 2: School Daze (1996-1999)

Young niggas emulate what’s coming out the speakers. So everything we learned came from rappers, not teachers. Used to watch Rap City. Rap nerd, even copped Rah Diggah. I studied Machiavelli. Pac had a nigga saying, ‘Fuck Jigga! Fuck Biggie!’ I was only like 11 so forgive me. ‘Pac was like Jesus, Nas wrote the Bible. I used to print out Nas’ raps and tape ‘em up on my wall. My niggas thought they was words, but it was pictures I saw.

One night, I woke up from out my sleep when I heard mama and my stepfather beefin'. I don’t know if he’d been drinkin', but I know this shit got loud. And I heard rumbling from struggling and rolling on the ground. Could never get used to that sound. Mama saying ‘Get off me.’ My tears is tumbling. I felt like a coward, so powerless. I was only 12. I wish I wouldla bust through that door my fucking self and grab the Glock right off the fucking shelf.

Now I was dreaming bout a deal at the age of 13. I was fiending for the mills. Some of my niggas in the ‘Ville all they did was serve fiends. Fuck scales, I had skills, all day rehearsing. By 14, I knew I was the nicest dude around. “Maine” was my nickname. Just a young’n with that fresh fade, bird chest, legs skinny. Hoop dreaming had me tryna be the next Penny. My niggas say I’m the truth and when I rap, they applaud. That what was my “Unsigned Hype” like in the back of The Source.

Chapter 3: ‘03 Adolescence (2000-2003)

2000s, I was concentrating more on gettin’ fly like my nigga Squirrel slangin' in the hallway. I complimented how I seen him out here getting his cash and asked, “What a nigga gotta do to get that? Put me on.” He just laughed. Told me, “Nigga, you know how you sound right now? If you wasn’t my mans, I would think that you a clown right now. You ‘bout to go get a degree.” I felt ashamed to have ever complained about my lack of gear and thought about how far we done came from trailer park to a front yard with trees in the sky.

From dirt-poor in a trailer, worried about my mother and never trustin’ my neighbors, to middle-class with a backyard and my own room to bein’ the only black kid in my homeroom. Forest Hills: Finally got my own bedroom in that bitch. No more sleeping in my brother’s room. Sometimes we had less. But compared to some of my niggas down the block, man, we were blessed. Thank you mama.

My older brother black but he look white. In an all black school, picture what that look like. No wonder he was under-achieving, not believing in himself. Coming home, just be keeping to himself. Looking back through the silence, he was screaming out for help. My brother got knocked. Now they hold him in cells. My mom broke but she posted the bail. Shoutout to my brother Zach, and my mother, I love ya.

“Regardless of where God lead us. Just know that I was Martin and you was my Gina.”

Forever scarred. Step-pops betrayed me. The day you played my momma you played me. Can’t believe I let you in my heart, nigga. I was too young to scrap you but damn if I ain’t want to. I hope these words haunt you. Thirteen years, knew you more than my real pops. Who would’ve thought you’d leave my momma high and dry? Why you lie? Feeling bitter so these words might seem jumbled. When you left, I watched that lady crumble. Momma smokin' cocaine. I never thought I’d see my mama on that shit, man. It’s fucking with her body, now she sick, damn.

This is a story ‘bout some puppy love. Mimi what up! Regardless of where God lead us. Just know that I was Martin and you was my Gina. She ride for a nigga and she stand up for him. But a nigga wanna be a nigga. Ride through the streets with freaks and real niggas. She never understand what it’s like to be a man, knowing when you look inside yourself you see a nigga. And you don’t wanna let her down, but you too young for the settle down. Thinkin' bout movin' out.

Chapter 4: New York Times (2003-2010)

Eighteen with million-dollar dreams. Jetted to New York, moved to Jamaica, Queens, like Prince Akeem. A nigga took the chance and came to the big city. My beat machine the only fucking thing I had with me. Back when I was up there in Mohammed crib, paying $1,700 for the rent, money well-spent. No heater, but a nigga made heat. Riding through Southside Queens like Fiddy. But I miss home badly. Think back to Forest Hills, no perfect home, but the only thing like home I’ve ever known. They snatched it from my mama and foreclosed her on the loan. I’m so sorry that I left you there to deal with that alone. Had no clue what you was going through. How could you be so strong? How could I be so selfish?

I reminisce on them school days. I went to St. Johns. I was taking out them student loans. The big man on campus, college with no sleep. A nigga doing homework, drinking like a fish. It ain’t a weekend that I’m sober. Fighting hangovers on my way to my internship and I forgot to study for my midterm, shit! Finna get my Bachelor’s and if this rap shit don’t work, I’m going for my Master’s. Momma said I should reconsider law school. That means I wear a suit and bend the truth and feel awful. Hell naw. You make a good salary just to pay Sally Mae.

“Think back to Forest Hills, no perfect home, but the only thing like home I’ve ever known.”

In no time, a nigga graduated, good old college degree. Shit, my niggas drug dealing see more dollars than me. I know my calling, it’s in my blood to do this music thang. Flip rhymes, flip beats, I produce my own shit. I was a wilder nigga back on my Therapist shit, moving careless as shit. Been making songs so long, now how the hell they get played? Tryna get Hov to fuck with me, with a burned CD full of jams. When he said he didn’t want it, it was “fuck him” again. “One day, he gon' regret playing me.” Little did I know, in a year he’d be fucking paying me. Now pop the champagne, money is coming soon.

Borrow money from mi amor. Just to cop a microphone, the same one that put me on tour. She held you down, now you out here fuckin' ‘round. Love my girl, but I told her straight up, “Don’t wait up.” I’m on The Come Up, if I must say so myself that was a classic. No album to my name and I’m already hot. The Warm Up dropped. You called it a classic. I told my fellas, “Time for a Carolina nigga to take his place with the greats.” Told my momma I’ll make it happen and I found a way. I came up, I warmed up. Next up? I blow up!

Chapter 5: Like A Star (2010-2014)

Who woulda thought a lil nigga from the ’Ville could get a deal? A nigga signed to Hov. Thought I’d head straight to the dealership. But looking at my deal, I probably can’t afford benefits. I just seen my face up in the XXL. Don’t let the cover fool ya', bitch I ain’t no freshman.

I dropped Friday Night Lights—that was classic number two. Now it seemed as if the Nas comparisons was comin' true. Wanted to drop the album in the summer but the label didn’t think that they could sell it. Still no release date from the label—are they insane?

I was in a jam. Hov askin' where’s the record that the radio could play? I was strikin' out for months. Hova put me in with Stargate—that shit was like detention. Niggas had no idea. Kept on sayin' “Where’s the hits? You ain’t got none. You know Jay’ll never put your album out without one. And, dog, you know how come? Labels are archaic, formulaic with they outcome.” They don’t know. They just study the charts. Me, I studied the shows, the fans, study they hearts. I had a feelin' I was killin', and this music we were spillin' out would change lives forever.

“Now it seemed as if the Nas comparisons was comin' true.”

My first album just dropped. Cole World! OK, I’m blowing up quickly. Wonder if the people know how many nights I spent alone, making beats, writing rhymes, thinking deep, fighting time. And you know it don’t stop, grindin round that clock, masterminding my second album, Born Sinner. Drop a couple hits and all the dummies pay attention. I got the nerds rappin' hard shit, dummies rappin' smart shit. Re-adjustin' my target audience ‘cause it’s obvious I’ve gone astray. What’s playing in my mind? The thing that I mostly fear: My whole career crash-and-burning.

Aw shit, goddamn, I think the devil got his hands on me. Stripper saying, “Baby, won’t you throw them bands on me?” With a good girl at home folding clothes and shit. She losing faith in him and he knows the shit. Like, “What the fuck is a break? Don’t know how much I can take no more. I give you all I got till it ain’t no more. No more tears, it’s been 10 long years. Damn near, I don’t know if I can wait no more.” And who can blame her? She know me like a book. Damn she so selfless. She put up with my ways because she loves me.

Chapter 6: Love Yourz (2014-2017)

A little Fayettenam nigga out in Beverly Hills, found ugliness in the success. The fast life I done seen on the screen is addictive: Money and clothes I done dreamed about and all the hoes that I fiend about. See I thought that would help me, it turns out it’s worse now. My girl want her first child, my label won’t work out. My mama don’t see me unless I’m on TV, I pray she don’t break down. She strong but she need me. Bailing out my brother, tell the lawyer “get the appeal.” Know he proud of lil bro and how my records be out. Flashbacks to childhood when he was deckin' me out. Now it’s clear lil ’Maine is the best MC out.

Mimi, You knew me before the fame, don’t lose me the more I change. I want that real love, dark skinned Aunt Viv love. But it’s a whole lot of actresses I’d like to bone. And despite the rumors I hold out. On account of guilt and she has to spend her nights alone. She ride or die like Eve and ‘em. Make home-cooked meals every evening. You stuck around even when the world frowned on me. You better believe, I know your homegirl said you should leave. Fighting insecurities. Want a ring and my last name for security.

Ain’t a way around it no more, I am the greatest. A lotta niggas sat on the throne, I am the latest. 2014 Forest Hills Drive: confirmed classic. But life is hard. Mourn the life of my nigga. He said, “Listen, I got a feeling I won’t see tomorrow. Write my story down, and if I pass, go play it for my daughter when she ready.” And so I’m leaving you this record, 4 Your Eyez Only. Said all that I could say. Now I play with thoughts of retirement.

Epilogue: Before I’m Gone

Sometimes I ask myself, “If I was gone who will remember me?” If I should pass, please let this be my last essay. If my heart stop pumping tomorrow, don’t feel no sorrow. Everything is meant to be. Therefore I write from the heart. Let these words be the colors. I’m like a young Pablo Picasso.

I had so many days of crying. I had so many days of pain. So I’m sending this out to those who fell down, but then rose because there’s beauty in the struggle. My highest moments come from tellin' all the saddest stories I’ve seen in my life. My lowest moments came from tryin' too hard to impress some niggas that couldn’t care if I’m on. Therefore from here on out, my hair grow out. I care nothin' ‘bout opinions. I wanna give hope.

“Anything’s possible. You gotta dream like you never seen obstacles.”

Never imagined that the kids would wanna be me, man. Could it be that I give the hopeless broke kids, hope? Anything’s possible. You gotta dream like you never seen obstacles.

What a life we chose. I was loved, I was hated. Just a nigga with a dream. I’m a liar, I was honest, I was all of these things. When I’m gone let em talk, they discussing who I am. When they bury me, just know I wasn’t nothing but a man.

Lead Image Photo by Jeff Kravitz/Getty Images for The Meadows

Chapter 5 Photo by Ben Hider/Getty Images

Chapter 6 Photo by Kevin Mazur/Getty Images for Billboard