1. On the last day of June in 1984, my mother received a prophecy. The oracle told her: one year hence, you will birth a lass whose destiny is to speak rhythmically over tight beats; this rapchild will be blessed with a quick wit and disarming good looks.

2. I was born on June 30th, 1985.

3. Raised in (can I get a hand clap) Wilmette, Ill-UH-noiz, I lived, breathed, and defecated suburban life. After a brief stint as a stunt double for my non-existent twin brother (i.e. I had a shroom cut, wore ridiculously baggy attire, avoided all things girly, and rocked air jordans like it was nobody's biznass), I reassumed my role as daughter/sister/female full-time. When I think back to my childhood, I remember legos, basketball, cookie dough, cake frosting, scraping my knees, and laughing. I cried, too, but since I was a tomboy, I didn't do it all that often.

4. Oh, my parents got divorced when I was seven, and soon after, I lucked out and got another parent and two new siblings. I played Marcia Brady.

5. I attended New Trier Township High School, where I learned literacy, played fun games in my kinetic wellness class, and memorized multiplication tables. Ages 14-18 were some crazy times, but I'm grateful for all of the adventures that made them so memorable. During my freshman year, my dad died, an experience that profoundly changed my outlook on life and the decisions people make. My father was a true lover of music and a talented guitarist; in many ways, my rap antics are a tribute to him.

6. Fast forward a little bit to college. Arrival in sunny CA was glorious, and I felt truly blessed to be a Stanford student. As a frosh, I associated myself with a relatively sane posse of clowns, and these babymamas/daddies (plus a few additions I acquired the following year) now form the backbone of the K.Flay operation. They are my test subjects, my sources of inspiration, and my biggest supporters. Props. And I'm not talking stage crew, homeboy.

7. K.Flay = Rapper.

8. I was relaxing to the maxing one quiet evening when a friend of mine and I got to talking about modern rap music. "I can do that ish anyday" I boasted, firmly believing that the vast majority of hip-hop radio hits are formulaic, misogynistic, and lacking in stimulating content (cerebral stimulation, that is). That night I kicked it like Pele and wrote "Blingity Blang Blang," a low-budget rap parody that contained far too many obscenities. Two additional songs were laid down before freshman year came to a close.

9. I devoted the summer after my freshman year in college to writing songs and figuring out how the f to record phat tracks on my laptop. I discovered that trial-and-error is an underrated method of teaching, and I ultimately conquered some computer programs and learned the basics of beat-making. With the help of patient individuals and kickass friends, I made lots of music and slowly gained confidence in my abilities. Sophomore year was exciting as well as fruitful: I recorded an album and started performing all around campus. Junior year bore even more delicious sonic fruit with the release of "Suburban Rap Queen," my debut album. I also took my live act on the road, entertaining audiences across the great state of California, from LA to San Fran. In the process of all this hullabaloo, I started to take myself moderately seriously.

10. Now I'm here and ready to change the face of rap from Nicolas Cage to John Travolta. Armed with a fatty tricep and a vocabulary that would make Webster swoon, I plan to make your feet tap, your cheeks (both sets) blush, and your ears smile because they got sick of generic pop-hop.