The first time I heard rap wasn’t on Youtube or Spotify or any digital platform, it was at a fair market where a small stall sold secondhand TVs, CD players, and foreign CDs. Among the static and chatter, there was one dusty screen played a music video about a music genre I have never heard and seen before. Bars was connected by atomic rhymes and smooth flows, also, not only just the hearing part was impressive but the visual is not less catchy. I was stunned by black gangster men walking with confidence, their voices sharp and rhythmic, echoing against the noisy atmosphere of a monthly market fair. The bass thudded through the tin roof and although the surrounding crowd laughed at the strange sounds, I stood perfectly still. I can only understand and remember a few simple words, yet in that rhythm – the pulse, the defiance – made my chest tightened. At that moment, I didn’t know the song’s name, but still, the feeling it left behind stayed in my heart for years.

Two years later, everything changed when my father installed the internet in our home, and we finally bought our first desktop computer. It was slow and loud, the kind that hummed like an old fridge, but to me, it felt like magic. When my sister showed me how to download videos, I knew it was my chance to find out what I’ve been waiting and searching for years. I typed fragments of lyrics I remembered from that market scene into the search bar. After several wrong results and endless buffering, there it was: 2Pac’s “Hit ’Em Up.” The same faces, the same fire. Watching it again, I realized what had captivated me - the raw delivery and rhythm that spoke louder than language.

From that magical moment, curiosity turned into passion. I began by copying lyrics phonetically, whispering them into a cheap headset mic at midnight. Gradually, imitation became creation. I started writing my own verses in Vietnamese, mixing in bits of English I picked up online. My small desk became my first home studio with a cracked software, old headphones, and notebooks filled with half-finished bars.

As I practiced, I began to hear patterns. I counted beats, studied rhyme schemes, and noticed how silence could be as powerful as sound. Artists like Nas, Kendrick Lamar, and B Ray became my teachers. They showed me that rap isn’t only performance - it’s poetry and truth shaped by rhythm. When I uploaded my first track, the mix was rough, and my flow uneven, yet someone commented, “It’s real rap! Keep it up man!” That line meant more to me than any grade I’d ever earned. It reminded me that authenticity matters more than perfection.

The deeper I went, the more I wanted to understand music itself - its logic, its emotion, its science. I began reading about how frequencies shape mood and how rhythm interacts with the human brain. What fascinated me most was realizing that what once felt instinctive followed patterns of sound and psychology. Music wasn’t just expression, it was structure, communication, and emotion combining into one.

Through rap, I discovered not just a voice but a direction. I want to explore how rhythm, language, and even hip-hop culture, technology intertwine to express identity and connect people. I want to study how sound waves can move us, how lyrics carry emotion across cultures, and how hip-hop continues to evolve as both art and science.

Now, when I write, I still hear that first market beat echoing behind every verse. The same spark that began in a dusty stall has grown into something larger, a rhythm that drives me to learn, to create, and to carry this culture forward with purpose and respect. Music found me by accident, but hip-hop gave me direction, and I’m ready to take my own curiosity and turn it into a serious study, creation, and contribution at the college level with passion and discipline.