Stevie Merciless Perspective on RIDING WITH MY CHICK AND THE TOP BACK

I go by Stevie Merciless, an artist and producer out of Saint Cloud, Minnesota. I rap, write, and create music that speaks for the real ones the misunderstood, the resilient, and the overlooked. My sound blends that old-school storytelling with new-school production, built on real-life pain, hustle, and growth. I’m not out here trying to fit in. I make music that hits the soul and tells the truth raw, unfiltered, and from experience.

I grew up adopted, dealt with trauma, made mistakes, and still rose out the dirt with a mic in my hand. Every track I drop is a piece of me, and I’ve been blessed to connect with people who relate to that.

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🔥 What I Do

I rap. I produce. I write. I perform. I build.

I don’t just make music—I tell my truth, and I make space for others to do the same. I’m not just trying to “go viral”—I’m building a movement of realness, for anybody who’s ever been counted out or doubted.

You can catch me on:

🎵 Spotify / Apple Music / YouTube – Search Stevie Merciless

📱 TikTok (@stevie.merciless) – Where I share performances, behind the scenes, and my grind

💿 My latest tracks:

Motion

Ain’t On None

Shawty Up in My Bag

Riding with My Chick and the Top Back

Bounce

Coming from where I come from, riding with my chick and the top back means everything. I wasn’t born into luxury—I had to fight for every win, every dollar, every moment of peace. So when I’m out there riding, it’s not just for show… it’s for the ones who said I wouldn’t make it.

My chick? She been with me through it all. When the pockets were empty, when I was chasing dreams nobody could see but me—she stayed. So now, with the top back, breeze blowing, and her by my side, it’s a reminder: we made it out the storm.

My earliest memory in music? Man, I remember being a kid—probably no older than 7 or 8—sitting in the backseat while the OGs played old-school bangers, or being in the house while my people played soul, funk, and rap loud enough to shake the floor. I ain’t know it then, but that sound was building me.

I used to tap on tables, mimic the flows, write lil’ rhymes in my notebook when nobody was looking. I remember that first time I recorded something—even if it was rough—it felt like I unlocked something. That was the first time I realized, “This ain’t just music. This is who I am.”

When I decided to become a performer…

It wasn’t just one moment—it was a build-up. But if I had to pinpoint it, it was that time I saw a crowd react to my voice for the first time. Whether it was a local open mic, a street cypher, or even just a group of people nodding their heads—it hit me: "They feel me. They hearing what I’m saying."

That’s when something clicked.

I wasn’t just writing bars anymore—I was living them. I realized I had a story to tell, a message that could move people. And more than that, I knew I could hold that stage. The nerves turned into energy, the doubt turned into fire. I didn’t want to just record—I wanted to perform. I wanted to connect.

That moment made it real for me. I told myself, "I ain’t just doing this for fun anymore. I’m building something. I’m a performer now."

Rap/ chill rap/nostalgia rap

Man, my style evolved like my life did—with every lesson, every loss, every come-up.

I started out raw. Straight hunger. My early music was aggressive, gritty—like I had something to prove. I was spitting pain, survival, the streets, that chip-on-the-shoulder mentality. Back then, it was all about bars, being the hardest in the room, making ‘em feel me even if they ain’t know me.

But as I grew, so did my sound. I started blending truth with polish, adding more bounce, more melodies, letting the beat breathe sometimes. I stopped rapping just to impress—started creating to express. Started showing different sides of me—the lover, the leader, the dreamer, the realist. I learned how to ride the beat in different pockets, switch flows, bring energy without losing the message.

Now, my style is still real, still tough—but it's evolved into something bigger. I make music for the streets, for the people, for the moments. It’s not just pain anymore—it’s growth, game, and vision. I can still go hard, but now I know when to slide smooth too.

That evolution? It’s me becoming the full version of myself—Stevie Merciless, the artist, not just the rapper