Opening Reflection

“Camera Guy” is a song about grit — but not the performative kind.
It’s about the quiet, unglamorous persistence of showing up when no one’s watching.
About carrying your camera, your perspective, and your purpose through long days, longer nights, and moments where quitting would’ve been easier.

This song is a love letter to creators who keep filming anyway.

Before the streams.
Before the recognition.
Before the money makes sense.

At its core, Camera Guy is about perspective — and the power of owning it.

The Hook: “Give Me That Camera”

The camera in this song isn’t just a tool — it’s a metaphor.

It represents voice, point of view, and lived experience.
When I say “give me that camera,” what I’m really saying is:
Let me show you my perspective.

I’m not asking for permission.
I’m not waiting to be validated.
I’m documenting what I’m living — in real time.

For a lot of creators, especially early on, there’s this moment where you realize:
You actually have nothing to lose — and everything to gain — by being seen as you are.

That realization changes how you move.

Verse One: The Grind Nobody Sees

This verse lives in the long hours.

Filming until sunrise.
Jumping between gigs.
Learning on the job — weddings, events, clubs, corporate shoots, passion projects.

Every environment taught me something.
There isn’t a single shoot I regret, because every frame expanded my perspective.

I was exposed to worlds I never would’ve seen otherwise — different cultures, different communities, different ways of living. That exposure shaped how I see storytelling today.

When I say “my camera melting like butter,” it’s about confidence earned — not bought.
Skill layered on top of experience.
Perspective sharpened through repetition.

Verse Two: Solo Shooters & Community

This part is deeply personal.

Being a solo shooter can feel isolating.
You’re doing everything yourself — filming, editing, emailing, invoicing — and still trying to stay inspired.

That loneliness is real.

But this verse is also a turning point.
It’s where Camera Guy shifts from individual grind to collective vision.

This is where Black Stock Footage comes in.

I’ve worked across industries and cultures, and one thing became clear:
Most groups build ecosystems that circulate opportunity internally.

So I asked myself — why not us?

Black Stock Footage is about creating infrastructure where Black creators can:

• Be seen

• Be paid

• Be trusted

• Be referred

Not as favors — but as professionals.

Not charity — but economics.

Monetizing Without Selling Your Soul

Know your worth and please don’t sell your soul
We the greatest story that they never told

This line matters.

Selling your soul doesn’t always look dramatic.
Sometimes it looks like slowly shrinking yourself to fit someone else’s brand.
Sometimes it looks like taking deals that pay — but cost you alignment.

This song is a reminder that monetization and integrity don’t have to be opposites.

We deserve systems where creators can earn without being erased.
Where culture is preserved — not diluted.

Our stories matter.
And they deserve ownership.

The Final Verse: Deadlines, Approval, and “Time to Eat”

Staring at the screen, deadline, he can’t sleep
Send it to the client, it’s approved, it’s time to eat

If you know, you know.

Late nights.
Color grading.
Deadlines hovering.
That moment when the email comes back approved — and the work finally pays off.

This verse is for every creator who’s put in the hours quietly.
For everyone who filmed for free before they ever got paid.
For the ones still pushing.

Support doesn’t always mean buying everything.
Sometimes it’s watching.
Sometimes it’s sharing.
Sometimes it’s simply not getting in the way.

That matters too.

Closing Reflection

Camera Guy is about more than cameras.

It’s about showing up for yourself.
For your community.
For the stories that would otherwise go untold.

It’s about choosing perspective over permission — and building systems that make that choice sustainable.

Camera rolling.
Always.