And in a story out of some 1950s rock bio-pic that was made in the ‘80s, B.o.B wrote a song about that loneliness and it got him famous. Well, the song was more about staying high to forget about the pains and the fame is more of the “to be determined” variety. But it did jump-start his new career and there’s a line about, “Ain’t gonna be no pain/I’m about to let it go.” Performing at a tastemaker’s showcase held at T.I.’s Club Crucial in Atlanta, B.o.B took to “Cloud 9,” a song that pre-dates Lil Wayne’s “I Feel Like Dying” but captures a similarly lifted and jilted vibe. It was enough to strike the attentions of uber-manager TJ’s DJ’s and wild-man producer Jim Jonsin, who eventually rounded out his team with long-time manager, B-Rich. Soon after, everyone put together a deal for B.o.B to become the flagship artist on Jonsin’s Rebel Rock imprint (through Atlantic Records).
It is in Jonsin—producer of “I Feel Like Dying” and an embarrassing number of R&B hits (Danity Kane, Pretty Ricky)—that B.o.B has found someone who understands him. Jonsin served as co-producer on B.o.B’s debut album, The Adventures of B.o.B, and is behind the clearance-be-damned samples that litter his mixtape with LRG, Mick Boogie and Terry Urban, Hi! My Name is B.o.B. Their collaborations and ubiquitous sources reveal plenty about B.o.B’s state of mind as he begins this journey that he predicts will end in 10 million records sold, high profile acting gigs and more adoring fans than a quiet kid could ever have hoped for.
And yet, in the very music that’s making him famous and forcing an infinite number of would-be friends into his newly-formed social circle, B.o.B still sounds like he doesn’t actually like people. Songs like “Haterz Everywhere” and the Beatles’ “Eleanor Rigby”-sampling “Lonely People” decry a bitter caution against friendships and people in general. Even as “Haterz” continues to pick up steam over a year after its release and is the most perfect example of the rave rap that’s infected every facet of hip-hop since Timbaland met up with Timberlake, B.o.B remains an outsider.
B.o.B isn’t technically from Atlanta, he’s from Decatur. While it’s often assumed to be a suburb of the ATL, it isn’t. The map on DecaturGA.com doesn’t look like the streets of The Wire. There’s a school, but kids seem to be playing there, rather than manning posts on the corner. And someone is selling newspapers, but that person looks white and nothing like dope-scarred Bubbles wondering if he has AIDS. It’s all happy pastels and not the violent grays of Baltimore…and yet, B.o.B explains his youth like he just grew from Dukie’s ashes. And then his lyrics poking holes in the patterns of socialization actually make sense.
“Going to school, you know, getting picked on and, shit, [because] you got dirty clothes. You go home and then it’s like crazy and fuck and the house is all falling apart and shit. And it’s like going through that and still moving, shit, there’s nothing I can’t handle. Selling 10 million records? Man, that’s nothing.”
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