The founder and CEO of Day By Day Entertainment and the creator of the recently released triple CD, “American Hunger,” Carey’s journey begins, strangely enough, on the set of “Sesame Street” in 1977, as one of the “Kids on Sesame Street.” Off camera he discovers to his disappointment that Big Bird is simply a very tall man in a bird suit, and that for him, sucks out all of the mystery.

The narrative weaves back and forth from different points in the past (starting with the gangbang that leaves him permanently in a wheelchair), and we see his dedication to the art of hip-hop music.

From the DJ, to “B-Boys” (break dancers), to graffiti artists, and the rise of the emcee, Carey participated in this world and gravitated towards writing and rhyming. But while he was writing (and actually ghostwriting for some popular artists and songs that he still can’t make public), he was living out to the lyrics he wrote.

Surprisingly, while on the very cusp of superstardom with Atlantic Records and a half million-dollar deal, he gets busted and sent to jail, thus ending his mainstream recording career. In the early ’90s record companies didn’t condone or promote violent behavior in real life, because as Carey writes, they didn’t know “how to market them.” The market at that time was populated by acts such as a Tribe Called Quest, KRS-One, and MC Lyte, before the emergence of gangsta rap.

During his journey to almost-stardom, he meets Dr. Dre, Suge Knight, Nas, Chuck D., KRS-1, Snoop Dogg, Warren G and others.

However neat the cameos are, the real weight of the story is in witnessing the education (or miseducation as the case usually was) of a good individual whose only skills were hip-hop and hustling. After a series of very bad decisions and a stint in prison (three years in maximum security for selling drugs with a release in 2003), he finally turns his life around.

“Sentences” is a book full of regret and gritty realism. It achieves its emotional heft by putting a human face on the ubiquitous news headlines of urban violence and tragedy that air each night and are printed in newspapers across the country. Through Carey’s life we witness the evolution and duality of hip-hop, from party music to gangsta rap.

Ronald Wimberly’s artwork is evocative of a labyrinthine hip-hop lyric, dark, fluid, surprising and often clever; almost like an early John Singleton flick shot in monochrome and deep shadows. We also get a sample of Carey’s lyrical prowess and wit.

“Sentences” demonstrates that the rhythm and imagery of hip-hop culture can be translated into comics almost seamlessly, creating the type of intimacy one can only achieve either by way of radio or words on paper.

Although Percy Carey’s life story doesn’t inspire in the usual sense of the word (and he admits this), it is a cautionary tale, one with a surprisingly good ending that makes the case for second chances and reinvention.

For more information on “Sentences: The Life of MF Grimm,” visit Carey’s official website at www.perceycarey.com.