Having attended international schools for most of his childhood, Cheng had seen what life was like for the privileged.
The Western-style private schools follow a separate curriculum and offer a cosy pathway for Asians from upper and upper-middle class families to enter top colleges in the West.
As financial pressures began to mount, his training in Tenerife, the largest of the Canary Islands, was halted and the family returned to Hong Kong.
Cheng watched his former classmates apply to Ivy League schools and his teammates in Spain being scouted by major basketball leagues.
Even as Cheng’s top grades led to more than half a dozen scholarship offers from American universities, the then 18-year-old had to abandon those dreams and pick up two jobs.
Cheng could afford a two-hour session every month at a recording studio in Kwai Hing, after paying rent and his brother’s school fees.
“Don’t be taking s*** for granted, you got one life; I ain’t ever had a good father figure, but my son might,” Cheng rapped on his 2020 single “Two Step”.
His first album, Durags & Chopsticks (2019), was recorded during these rushed studio sessions, as well as at home, using his own microphone.
Cheng’s voice at the time was especially gruff – the effect of coaching children during the day and speaking over factory noises at night, and it became his signature sound.
“People outside my friend circle started to notice me, which made me feel, ‘OK, now I have to work even harder,’ knowing that people actually see something in me.”
But what working harder meant for Cheng soon changed.
Having arrived late to a would-be career-changing basketball tournament after an exhausting shift at the factory, he twisted an ankle within the first few minutes.
Forced to leave the venue dragging two large sacks of packaged egg rolls still to be delivered, Cheng decided then and there that things must change.
It’s very hard for me to have true friendships with people here because I can’t respect [inauthenticity]
Cheng signed with his long-time idol and moved to the capital of Sichuan province, one of China’s most culturally dynamic cities.
“It’s ironic that all the same people are now starting to show me love and respect again, because they see me working and being good friends with their favourite artists,” says Cheng.
“It’s very hard for me to have true friendships with people here because I can’t respect that.”
That said, Cheng has several projects in the pipeline that will bring him back to his birthplace, including a series of club performances next month.
“Maybe things are changing here, maybe people are being more open-minded towards mainland China,” he says, “and maybe I have to have more love in my heart to forgive people who didn’t believe in me […]
“I feel like you have to be the bigger person if your life’s purpose is to lead, and I feel like I am meant to lead here.”
It is the prelude to his first Cantonese album, coming this summer, after years of English and Mandarin tracks.
“I’m the only person in Asia who could write a full song in native English and Mandarin – for myself or for someone [else] – as well as in Cantonese,” says Cheng.
“I am not restrained by anything and I can write great melodies, and that makes me feel like I am untouchable in this space.”
Cheng’s brother now lives with him in Chengdu, where he is a top student. And Cheng regularly stops off in Hong Kong to see his mother and grandparents.
Having grown from struggling teen to rap star with loyal fans scattered across China, he wants to represent hope for the youth of Hong Kong.
“It’s not really about what you do,” he says, “or how much money you have. It’s about whether you can create happiness out of your situation – that’s one thing I really want to influence people in Hong Kong about one day.”