From Yeah Right! to J3R3M3, Jereme Rogers has never been interested in playing it safe.
There was a time when Jereme Rogers looked like he was going to become one of the defining names in skateboarding. A standout part in Yeah Right!, magazine covers, major sponsorships and a reputation for skating with the kind of confidence that could fill a room before he even walked into it.
Then he walked away.
Instead of following the blueprint laid out for him, Rogers retired from professional skateboarding and threw himself into music, business and whatever came next. The backlash was loud, but so was his belief in himself. Years later, the skater-turned-rapper has lived through the highs, the lows, the criticism and the reinventions and somehow arrived at a place where none of it seems to matter quite as much.
Now releasing music as J3R3M3, Rogers is focused on writing, creating and continuing to evolve without being boxed into one identity.
Frank 151 caught up with Jereme to talk Yeah Right!, walking away from skateboarding, ego, failure, music, ownership, self-belief and why he has no interest in limiting himself.
FRANK 151: Most skaters remember exactly where they were when they first saw your part in Yeah Right!. Do you think people ever fully understood how good you actually were, or has time finally caught up to your skating?
JEREME ROGERS: I’ve definitely met liars.
FRANK 151: You walked away from a career most people would kill for. Looking back now, was leaving skateboarding a brave move, a reckless move, or a necessary move?
JEREME ROGERS: Can’t it be all three?
In a meeting with Danny Way and Colin McKay, the owners of Plan B Skateboards, their plan was a big push for me as the main guy at the time. A 17-page Thrasher spread and cover… I stopped them in what was about to be a laundry list of career-supportive ideas. I said they should save their breath, because I’d be doing none of that. Actually, the opposite. I’m retiring, and that’s actually why we’re having this meeting.
Colin said with a genuine smile, “You’ve got balls of steel.” We had a healthy laugh and wiped the docket.
Brave? Check.
Reckless? Absolutely, on numerous levels. I’ve had faith in myself, long before faith in God, which is also in myself, and you. I was making $66,000 a month on paper, blowing it like a lady of the night, and could’ve easily stopped paying my bills like I did while still making money if I didn’t dive in head first.
Through the trials, journey and struggle, I learned more than I’ll bore you with. Some lessons take experiencing to become inherent in your character. Universal flow, the art of patience, a worry-free constitution — some examples of things I’ve gained, wouldn’t sell and couldn’t buy.
Necessary? Is life even necessary? Who knows. I do know I’m alive, happy, healthy and blossoming. Any other path I may be dead, or worse.
I was indubitably one of the most reckless skaters of my time. Illegal carrying, Aston Martin crashing, 150-mile-an-hour driving, hooker buying, drunk driving, all-day card swiping, everyday my own hype man, type man.
FRANK 151: At the height of your skating career you seemed completely convinced you were destined for something bigger. Where does that level of self-belief come from?
JEREME ROGERS: My parents definitely raised me to believe in myself. God bless them for that.
I think everyone has that “I’m gonna do something great!” feeling early on, yet lets go of it little by little. I’ve kept childlike faith and strangled the life out of doubt to the point they don’t even arise anymore.
If I’m gonna miss a flight, for example, I either know that, or keep the faith all the way to the closed gate.
Worry is interest paid on things that haven’t happened yet.
“I’ve kept childlike faith and strangled the life out of doubt to the point they don’t even arise anymore.”
FRANK 151: Your confidence has always been polarizing. Some people saw arrogance, others saw somebody refusing to think small. Has your relationship with your ego changed over the years?
JEREME ROGERS: Who?
FRANK 151: When you first started making music, skateboarding wasn’t exactly rolling out the red carpet. Did the backlash motivate you, or did it ever genuinely get under your skin?
JEREME ROGERS: Early on, yes. It was constant, intense and unanimous. But as the years went on, hate stretched for a decade. I became not only Teflon to it, but an appreciator and alchemist of it.
Hate, like love, is a form of passion. I learned to first appreciate it, understand it, and then sympathize with it.
I now offer love in the face of hate.
You can’t fight fire with fire.
FRANK 151: What’s the biggest misconception people still have about Jereme Rogers in 2026?
JEREME ROGERS: I couldn’t say. Blessedly, I live in the solitude of my own mind.
FRANK 151: You’ve lived multiple lives already: pro skater, entrepreneur, label owner, rapper, public villain, comeback story. Which version of yourself felt the most authentic?
JEREME ROGERS: Now.
Now is where real exists. Past remains forever there, and the future never comes like a eunuch.
FRANK 151: Skateboarding today feels very different from the era you came up in. If a 17-year-old Jereme Rogers entered the industry right now, would he thrive or would he hate it?
JEREME ROGERS: I don’t hate.
“Failure is the path to success. If you don’t try because you’re scared to fail, you don’t come close to the success on the other side of it.”
FRANK 151: You were talking about ownership, branding and building your own platform long before most skaters were. Do you feel ahead of your time in that regard?
JEREME ROGERS: P-Rod, Terry Kennedy and myself made Sk8site.com, which was the first skateboard social media/content site like The Berrics. It was my idea, and we got a $150K advance from 411VM.
I got Rex Kudo into making music, which is the producer and studio owner of where Post Malone did “White Iverson” and his whole first album. I was there for all of that.
But also, no one cares. Life is short. Now is where the magic lives.
FRANK 151: Your music has evolved a lot since the early days. What do you think people misunderstand most about you as an artist, separate from the skateboarder they already know?
JEREME ROGERS: That I’m an excellent writer, constantly excelling.
That’s where my creative passion lies with music — my pen.
I don’t use AI to write, other people or the internet. I write from the soul, and I’m constantly writing music I’m not personally on.
“J3R3M3” is the name of my Spotify/Apple Music. There’s a lot of incredible stuff there that’s not me, but I wrote every word, and a lot more in the vault.
FRANK 151: You’ve stayed committed to music despite criticism and industry ups and downs. What keeps you creating when it would be easier to move on to something else?
JEREME ROGERS: You wake up and you wanna eat.
I do too.
And like we naturally wanna eat, I naturally wanna make music — writing specifically at the moment — and I eat.
FRANK 151: What’s one business lesson skateboarding taught you that ended up being more valuable than any trick you ever landed?
JEREME ROGERS: Failure is the path to success.
If you don’t try because you’re scared to fail, you don’t come close to the success on the other side of it.
FRANK 151: If you could go back and talk to the version of yourself that retired from skating to pursue music, what’s the one thing you’d tell him?
JEREME ROGERS: You’ll always enjoy the ride more than the destination.
“I’m not interested in limiting myself.”
FRANK 151: You’ve always spoken about wanting people to feel something rather than simply remember your name. Do you think you’ve achieved that yet? Or is the real legacy still being built?
JEREME ROGERS: As long as my mind works, I work.
Legacy never dies, only we do.
FRANK 151: Twenty years from now, when somebody says “Jereme Rogers,” what’s the first thing you hope comes to mind: skateboarder, musician, entrepreneur, or something else entirely?
JEREME ROGERS: All of the above / something else entirely.
I’m not interested in limiting myself.