"A man who wants nothing is invincible..." The intense, gleaming passion behind his eyes, searing out every word like a hot iron. It's obvious just by watching him in person, that the Atlanta born native's fire burns beyond the boundaries of music. His appearance is distinct, with an unspoken edge of the streets written all over him... yet his message clear, words and demeanor solid, fueled with a passion rivaling that of a dirty south preacher.

Crucifix (aka BabyBlue) first burst onto the underground music scene in 2005 with the release of his independent, controversial double disc debut, "My Life's Prayer". Blending a smooth mix of aggressive, fast-fire hip hop. Strong, heartfelt vocals. A passionate, pain filled delivery and emotional, no holds barred lyrical content. Crucifix captured listeners around the world with his distinct and addictive new sound. Draped with a young voice crying out from the depths of rock bottom. The sound of the Maskil, ...the Psalm of the streets.

Driven by the pain in his past, and the passion to share the hope that saved his life. Crucifix pours out his story to the world on a palette of music... one song at a time. "Think of each verse like a page in a journal, writing out the raw, honest truth of who I was... at that moment. It's never easy to look back on, especially when yesterday is littered with mistakes we can't change. But it's only in seeing the true reflection of who we are, that we can begin to see the true reflection of who we need to be."

"The music behind me is a graphic, eye opening testament to the promise of hopelessness that always lies just behind the footsteps of sin. I'm not here to push religion, to tickle the ears of the 'righteous', or point fingers at the 'lost'... I'm not here to convince, convert or condemn... I'm just here to share my journal with the world, one verse at a time... I was lost in emptiness of rock bottom, and each of these songs is a footstep in my journey to redemption."

"I was the chief of sinners, on downward spiral to death, stuck in the hole of sin I had dug around me. Addicted to drugs, with no way out... soaked up in hatred and violence, with never any prize to crown my emptiness... chasing every blooming desire my flesh could conjure, in a mad trance craving for one single moment of fulfillment... Running in aimless circles like a stubborn blind man, hoping that one day everything would finally make sense..."

"Then it finally did... Standing over the beaten path of death and destruction that wore my footsteps, I began looking for a way out and stumbled across a passage in the Bible, tucked away in Romans 6. It was as if it's words reached off the page, then grabbed a hold of my hardened heart and squeezed..."

'Do you not know that to what you present yourself slave to obey, you are that thing's slave to obey, whether sin leading to death, or obedience leading to righteousness? ...What fruit did you have in the things you are now ashamed of? For the end of those things is death. But now having been set free from sin, and becoming slave to God, you have your fruit, to holiness, and in the end, everlasting life. For the paycheck of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life is Christ Jesus our Lord.'

"I realized my entire life I had given myself over to my desires without thought or question. If I wanted drugs I did them... if I wanted violence I made it... if I wanted lust I chased it... and in the end the only thing it yielded was death. The death of my homeboys, the death of my family members, and this ever growing death inside of me. But each time I tried to change, those things I wanted held me like chains. Making me feel like I would never be complete with out them... like I owed them something."

"In my despair I cried out to God, leaving behind everything I knew and throwing myself fully at what I could not see. And at that moment something changed forever. As if a nail pierced hand reached down in the midst of my dirt, washed me, changed me and wiped away the weight of everything I had done. I was blessed by God to make it out of my mistakes alive, and I'm here to stand as a living proof that no matter what was written yesterday... for any of us... tomorrow is still a blank page."

"This music is the portrait of my life... each day another entry in my journal of song. And I pray, that as He continues to chisel away the rough edges my past has left behind, that each new song will become more clear, more real and more pure. Sounding less and less like me, and more and more like Him. I'm not perfect and still have a long way to go. But the one thing I do know is that slavery has never felt so sweet... Life has never felt so free... Knowing there's nothing here to hold me, nothing here to own me... nothing I want in this life more than Him. So with the time I have left I'll raise my voice, living out loud the words that opened my eyes...

'A man who wants nothing is invincible.'"





Born in Decatur Georgia, the son of a preacher, Crucifix spent most of his childhood bouncing between the ghettos and suburbs of south Atlanta. At the age of twelve, he and his family moved overseas to the small east African border town of Goma Zaire, as missionaries. A country, then ravaged by political instability, violence, corruption and extreme poverty. Crucifix began to learn at a young age that life is cheap, time is short, and death certain... especially within the borders of the third world. In December of 1992 during their first Christmas in Africa, his entire family nearly lost their lives. Escaping across the border under a hail of gunfire, marauding soldiers and exploding mortars.

But it would be little more than a year later, that one of the most defining moments of his life would take place... an event that would change his world forever. In April of 1994, after leaving Zaire for the safety of the neighboring country Rwanda, what had now become their new home exploded into one of the worst genocides in modern history. Leaving in it's bloodied wake over 800,000 men, women and children... shot, beaten, trampled and hacked to death... over ethnic differences.

Then 13, Crucifix watched in horror at the ruthless slaughter that unfolded before his eyes... taking cover in a small baptist guest house, as mortars and grenades shook the walls around him. With little to no hope of rescue and no line of communication with the outside world, the family stood helpless, gazing over the walls of their compound as bodies filled the streets. It was then, Crucifix witnessed death for the first time... On his knees in fear, the man begged for his life... crying. But his cries were answered by the loud retort of the AK-47, as bullets riddled his body with holes. An extra effort made to slug the vehicle over his limp and lifeless form, leaving his mangled corpse to rot in the street.

The family held out within their compound for several days, but as the food began to run dry. The only option of escape became more and more inevitable. They would have to drive out of Kigali... before the masses gathering outside their walls became more drunken with bloodshed. Clinging to the same faith that brought them there to begin with, the family once again put their trust in the unseen. Believing with full heart, that the same God who brought them out of Zaire... would be faithful to bring them out of Rwanda.

Then suddenly the promises of Psalm 91 came alive;

"A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand.
But it will not come near you. Only with your eyes will you look and see
the reward of the wicked... For He will give His angels charge over you,
to keep you in all your ways. And in their hands they will bear you up,
lest you dash your foot against a stone."

And as if a blanket of protection had fallen over the family, shielding them from the hand of death that raged just beyond their fingertips, they once again walked out from amidst the chaos... untouched. A white bed sheet flying from the antenna of their vehicle as they pushed through the crowded and blood-soaked streets of Kigali, a city now littered with masses of decaying bodies, burning cars and machete wielding mobs... Death had eaten Kigali from the inside out, and now all that was left was the ruin of her rage. Like a beating heart giving up it's last beat. Crucifix watched it fade into the distance. Letting go of his home, but holding the memory of it's leaving forever. So he left Rwanda... for the first and last time.





A political refugee, stripped from his home... his life... everything he knew and loved... evacuated with nothing but his family, and the clothes on his back. The walls of innocence, hope and faith that stood so high around him, now began to crumble. Tearing down all certainty and promise he had ever come to discover about life. He started to grow cold to the world around him. Unable to shake the images of bloodshed that Rwanda left behind... Unable to understand how mankind could desire such meaningless horror and violence... How a man could look a child in the eyes, and tune out their cries as he chops them to pieces. Somehow finding pleasure in it... somehow being fulfilled... somehow feeling strong, empowered. As he walks away from his mangled prize. Leaving behind, only a tiny dismembered corpse as a testament to his god-like strength... He began to seek escape in solitude, hiding from the pain, doubt and confusion that he was so quickly growing more and more familiar with. And as the coldness of his feelings swelled, his passion for music grew hot... brewing like a roaring fire inside of him. He began to lose himself within the it, falling away for hours on end, entranced it's melodic healing spell. It became his therapy... his release... Channeling all his emotions and brokenness into each moment of song.

At the age of sixteen Crucifix returned to the States with his family. And what would seem like a normal life for most, was now completely foreign to him. His view of God, religion, life, and self had begun to fade, and the promises of sin gleamed bright before his eyes. Leaving behind only vague, distant memories of a time when God showed his face. He was drawn away, enticed and slowly swept away towards the pulling of his desires... downhill... towards nothing. It began with just a few little compromises... a few harmless wrongs. But with each compromise, the wrongs grew more and more wrong, and less and less harmless. He soon found himself enraptured by the power of drugs, and their easy ability to mask the pain... To shut himself off to the world around him.


Caught between a world of hurt and a world of hope. Torn on all sides he walked, beaten by the winds of faith and fury. The streets forever welcoming him... the church forever condemning him, yet forever refusing to return to his past. With each step that small seed of faith grew.

"Strip a man down to nothing... then you see the true character of that man.