An artist doing what he loves to do.

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There’s an old saying: “the only thing constant in life is change.” Cliche? Maybe. But there’s an undeniable, underlying truth to the idea. It’s a sentiment that Bobby Creekwater, born Antoine Rogers, knows well.

Four years ago, the Atlanta-grown rapper, known for his stark, even coveted perception and sophisticated, undiluted lyricism, was contemplating calling it quits. It’s a thought that undoubtedly has swam around in the mind of many artists, especially those whose outpourings, while great, innovative and inspiring, are widely overlooked. Finding himself in that category was disappointing. Even his moniker defies defeat. Derived from the creek that ran behind his grandmother’s house in Southwest Atlanta where he grew up,  because as he says, “the house was torn down, but the creek remains”—the idea of giving up his first love naturally left him unsettled.

“I was trying to figure out if I was still in love with music,” remembers Creek, who at 14 had already made up his mind that he wanted to be a rapper or nothing. “I always said the day that I fell out of love with it or started doing it for the wrong reason, would be the day that I turned in my resignation.”

His frustration with music was valid, if not anticipated. In 2000, he was signed to Steve Rifkind’s Loud Records with the high-energy, intelligent hip-hop group he formed in high school, Jatis. When Loud folded a year and a half later, Creek signed to Columbia, still eager to show of his above-average skills. However, that deal turned out to be short-lived because as Creek clarifies, “the label didn’t know what to do with us.” Jatis eventually disbanded, leaving Creek to forge his own musical path. So he spent the summer of 2004 locked in an Atlanta basement teaching himself how to produce. The result of that musical hibernation was a more focused, more skilled and more energized Creek.

Then in 2005, opportunity came knocking again, this time in the form of superstar rapper Eminem, who, impressed with Creek’s talent, signed him to Shady/Aftermath/Interscope. However, disappointment reared its head when Interscope fell victim to hard economic times, and thus, turned to its cash cows to help it get back into the black. Creek found himself taking a backseat as acts like 50 Cent and Eminem were called to duty. Even though he still hadn’t released an album, in 2009 he finally decided that enough was enough. He amicably split with the label and decided to go it on his own.

Since the split, he’s released a few standout projects, including The B.C. Era, The B.C. Era Deuce, Back to Briefcase with DJ Infamous and the exceptional EP, The Day It All Made $ense through his independent imprint, BGOV. Most recently, he released a mixtape Two, which he says was awesome from a musical standpoint but didn’t sell so well because he was “more concerned with the music.”

“It’s almost like I made it for myself,” he says of the project, “and if you just happened to stumble upon it and hear it then good for you.”

But during that time he also discovered a new passion—artist development.

“[I had a passion], for seeing something in its infant stages and watching it develop into something even I couldn’t fathom,” he says. “It began when I started writing for other artist. Then I started picking the production. In each situation my role would grow exponentially in a short amount of time because of my insight and experience. So within a matter of weeks I would go from [working with producer] Sean Garrett to [producer/ mogul] L.A. Reid.”

Slowly, he began to fall in love with music again, and in the way that everything changes but stays the same, Creek found himself bit by the recording bug, his creativity refusing to be silenced by politics or industry disappointments.

“I started to record and the records began to spill out as if I had never stopped,” he admits.

His new album, I Am From a Place is more personal than any of his previous records, more gritty, more raw. And in the tradition of great albums born from personal discovery and even heartache and pain, it’s arguably his best work to date.

“The creative process for I Am From a Place was a bit different because I didn’t live in the studio,” he says. “I would only record when I was inspired, which happened a lot. So I would record like, five songs at a time. Other than that it was business as usual.”

Led by the infectious single, “Rudeboi,” Creek, once again,  is ready for his moment. Only this time he’s more firmly in control of his concept of success, creativity and output than he’s ever been in his career. And that is a good thing for anyone with the ears to hear.

“I’m ecstatic about what I’m able to contribute at this point and time in my life to music as a whole,” he insists. “Because of my trials and errors, because of my mishaps and mistakes, and setbacks I’ve gained something that can never be taken away— knowledge. And with this knowledge I can bring balance to music. I can show the fans so many different sides of it, so many different perspectives, and open [people’s] minds to so many different ideas.”

At the end of the day, that’s a change worth waiting for.

Dylan Battick is following