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About 2GOT

Legends Begin Here

2GOT didn’t start as a brand.
It started on a long, quiet street in Rio Linda, California.

In 1995, Cherry Lane ran straight as a ruler—orchards on one side, houses on the other. I lived right in the middle. My dad had bought and sold cars my whole life, and after turning his life around, he went back to doing what he knew best—building things with his hands, doing it clean this time. That rhythm shaped me early.

I was fourteen or fifteen when he bought me my first car: a 1979 Chevy Luv pickup with hydraulics on the bed. No license. No permission to roam. Just up and down that one-mile stretch of road, music thumping, learning what it felt like to create something that turned heads.

That truck led to another car. Then another. Eventually, it led to a fully built 1966 Mustang—Mack truck blue, peanut butter vinyl top, gold-plated everything but the bumpers. Dayton wires. White walls. Four 12s where the back seat used to be. I was a skinny kid, barely over five feet tall, cruising like I owned the world—at least my block of it.

That same street is where I met Brandon.

He and his younger brother had just moved into the empty house at the end of the road—the one I used to turn around at. We came from different worlds, but we clicked fast. Neither of us fit neatly into the cliques at school. We weren’t jocks. We weren’t gangbangers. We weren’t trying to be anyone else. We were just… outside the lines.

Soon there were more of us. A handful of outcasts who didn’t belong anywhere else—and liked it that way.

We bonded over cars first. Then music. Then long hours sitting at car shows with nothing to do but draw. That’s where it really started—not knowing we were building anything, just letting our hands move. Letters. Faces. Cartoons. Shapes. I didn’t know there was an art to letters yet. I just knew I liked drawing them.

Then graffiti found us.

Another crew at school showed us the door, and it felt like an epiphany. Everything clicked at once—the bold lines, the style, the identity. I was obsessed with JNCO jeans, not for the pants themselves, but for the massive graffiti-style artwork on the pockets. I studied those designs. Copied them. Twisted them. Made them mine.

We realized something important:
We weren’t a gang.
We were a crew.

So we named it.

The number 2 had always followed me—I was a “second,” and it stuck. I loved the letter G. We needed something that felt flexible, evolving, bigger than one meaning. That’s how 2GOT was born—originally Second Generation of Thugs, Trues, Talent. The meaning shifted as we did. The name stayed.

We cycled through dozens of graffiti names before finding our own. Mine finally came from my signature—where the letters in Vermillion formed a shape that looked like a Roman numeral seven. Clean. Balanced. Symmetrical.
That was it. 7 stuck.

What started on paper moved to markers. Then stickers. Then mop pens. Then spray paint. We were terrible at first—runs, drips, shaky lines. This was before the internet. Caps had to be ordered from magazines and prayed for. When we figured out fat caps and skinny caps, everything changed.

Weekends turned into missions.

One of our crew lived in an apartment right on the railroad tracks. When the trains stopped at night, we’d grab backpacks full of cheap paint and run. There was an underpass a mile down the road, hidden by a hill—our sketchbook, our classroom, our proving ground.

People came and went. Life pulled some away. But a few of us held on until the end.

By 1999, adulthood started knocking. Jobs. Relationships. Kids. Responsibility. I left California for Atlanta, walked away from hustling, and started building a different kind of life. I kept creating—murals, custom cars, trophies, bikes, motorcycles, tattoos. East Coast. West Coast. Real-world walls and metal instead of notebooks.

2GOT never died.

It followed me through marriages, kids, loss, caretaking, and reinvention. When my world got smaller, my creativity didn’t. When my hands couldn’t do what they used to, my mind found new tools—writing, digital art, AI-assisted creation.

Different medium. Same engine.

Today, 2GOT is the sum of everything that came before it—cars, graffiti, survival, reinvention, and the refusal to let creativity disappear just because life gets heavy.

It’s been alive for over 30 years.

Not because it was trendy.
Not because it was profitable.
But because it mattered.

2GOT is proof that if you keep creating, you keep becoming.
And every legend—no matter how small it starts—has a beginning.

Legends begin here.