In a country where most artists sugarcoat their stories, Showboy doesn’t just speak his truth — he spits it. Unapologetically. From the streets of Accra to a prison cell in the U.S., and now back on home soil with his album KAKAAKU tearing through the charts, his story isn’t just survival. It’s transformation.
But it didn’t start that way.
“I grew up with no affection,” he says plainly, voice hard but eyes heavy. “I had everything — money, clothes, gadgets — but I didn’t have love.”
Born into a broken home as the first of eight children, Showboy was raised by his grandmother after his parents split. His mother left for the United States when he was five. His father, though around, was emotionally distant. “At 12, my dad told me, ‘Go get your own car. This one’s not yours.’ That’s how I grew up.”
A Raw Start, A Ruthless Rise
It’s no surprise then, that Showboy learned early to fend for himself. His sharp mind earned him seven ones in the BECE and admission into one of Ghana’s top high schools, Presec. But life wasn’t about books for long.
When he finally joined his mother in the U.S. as a teenager, Showboy found a new kind of jungle — one where ambition, poverty, and peer pressure collided. “I was working three jobs — gas station, coffee shop, security. Still going to school,” he recalls. “But I wanted more. I got greedy.”
More turned into crime. Fraud. Drug sales. Hustles that landed him a 15-year sentence, of which he served six. In prison, things got darker.
“I joined the Bloods in jail,” he confesses. “If you didn’t, they’d rob you. Or worse. I woke up some days being told to stab someone or get stabbed. I’ve seen dead bodies. We laid one guy in his bunk like he was alive, just so the guards wouldn’t notice he was gone. That’s prison.”
Showboy doesn’t tell these stories for shock value — he tells them like someone who’s still trying to process them. He’s been on suicide watch. He was fed heavy medication just to sleep. He’s had broken bones, busted teeth, and years of isolation.
And yet, he says, “Prison saved my life. If I hadn’t gone, I’d be dead.”
Coming Home, Starting Over
When the option came to fight deportation or come back to Ghana, he chose home. “I told the immigration judge, I’m done. I want to go home.”
Home meant starting over. No crew. No label. No support from the people he once helped.
“I helped build AMG. I put money into it. I believed in Criss Waddle. I pushed Medikal. But when I went to jail, none of them put a dollar on my books,” he says. “Stonebwoy did. R2Bees didn’t. Medikal didn’t. That sh*t hurt.”
It’s a betrayal he still wrestles with. But he doesn’t dwell — he channels it.
KAKAAKU: The Album That Heals
In 2025, Showboy dropped KAKAAKU, a project that’s more than music — it’s therapy. It’s his life, cut into tracks. Grit, heartbreak, ambition, street code, and trauma — all in one.
“I cry when I write. I cry when I record,” he says. “This ain’t just rap. This is pain. This is healing.”
The album went Top 5 in Ghana, with standout tracks like “Traaholic” (a pointed nod to being excluded from Sarkodie’s Rapaholic concert), “Shizzy”, and “Yame” featuring Ghanaian highlife legend.
“This album is a movie,” he insists. And he’s not wrong. Each track plays like a chapter in a chaotic, redemptive life.
Showboy also hints at launching Traaholic: The Concert — a one-man live show, no features, just raw energy. “They don't like me in the industry, and that’s cool. I’ll do it myself. Three hours. Me, a DJ, and my story.”
“I’m Not Rich. I’m Surviving.”
Ask him if he’s made it, and he laughs. “I’m not rich. My mom is rich. She takes care of me. I’m surviving.”
Despite the braggadocio, Showboy is self-aware — almost painfully so. He admits to being “cursed with lust,” struggling to hold relationships, and still haunted by PTSD. “I don’t go out unless I feel mentally ready. Promoters can keep their money. If I’m not okay, I’m not performing.”
He wants a manager — not for fame, but for love. “You need to love me first before you manage me. If it’s just about money, don’t come.”
What’s Next?
Showboy knows his story is bigger than him. He wants a documentary. A concert. A second chance at telling the truth through art.
And above all, he wants people to learn from him.
“Don’t get it twisted. I did bad things. But I’m not a bad person. I just wanted to survive. Now, I want to live.”
And that’s the thing about Showboy — underneath the tattoos, the scars, the prison time, and viral outbursts, there’s a man who never gave up. A man trying to heal. A man with a mic in one hand and his past in the other.
And whether Ghana’s industry embraces him or not, Showboy is writing his own ending. One track at a time.
Watch the interview below:
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