While his debut album, The Rest Is History, doesn't hit stores until next March, in Hong Kong this Friday the man labelled 'the Chinese Eminem' will release his Learn Chinese music video, and a day later will play his first Hong Kong show.

It was a year ago that the buzz around Jin Tha MC first hit Hong Kong. A mass e-mail did the rounds, showing a clip of a short Chinese rapper verbally tearing down his opponents on Black Entertainment Television's (BET) 106 & Park: Top 10 Live freestyle rap contests. The sender was a proud Jin fan who declared: 'Finally, someone representing his people!'

Today, America's rap scene is buzzing about Jin. He won seven consecutive rap battles last year, earning a place in BET's Freestyle Friday Hall of Fame. After winning his final encounter, Jin's Ruff Ryders deal was announced.

Jin went on to have a part alongside Ludacris in John Singleton's street-racing summer blockbuster film, 2 Fast 2 Furious. And last month, he made headlines by being involved in a shooting incident in New York's Chinatown that reportedly was sparked by a jealous rival. For a young man who has not yet sold a single record, Jin has certainly found status in the thriving, throbbing, thuggish world of hip-hop.

'I'm just someone who lives and breathes hip-hop,' the rapper says by phone from New York. When asked about his unofficial title and being compared to hip-hop's hottest act, who also is non-African-American, his reply is modest yet forthright: 'I'm not the Chinese Eminem. I'm not trying to be Eminem. I'm me. I'm Jin.'

The comparisons, however, are not without foundation. Like Eminem, Jin is smart, quick-witted and brash. He gained respect only by conquering the freestyle arena - where rappers verbally joust with each other - and can effortlessly fire spontaneous rhymes that are sharp and hilarious. If you listen carefully, the two share a similar nasal tone and a flow style.

On another level, the two are radically different. The angry Eminem (aka Marshall Mathers III) has an offensive, politically incorrect and outright abusive edge; the more comical Jin raps about issues such as being Chinese-American, interracial dating and life in Chinatown. And up until last month, guns and gang-related violence did not figure in Jin's life. During the unfortunate incident at Yellow bar, his friend Christopher Louie, 23, was shot in the lower back (he is on the way to a full recovery).

'I don't go around looking for trouble,' Jin says. 'But, it opened my eyes and I am more cautious now.' It is also the only time during this interview that Jin is almost lost for words. Fans know Jin loves to talk, and his greatest freestyle moments are when he unleashes racially themed retorts. Jin says he deliberately avoids making his ethnicity part of the subject matter in his 106 & Park rap battles - unless his opponents bring it up.

One recent battle is a case in point: 'I'm a star/ He just a rookie/ Leave rap alone and keep making fortune cookies,' was the challenge. His reply? 'You wanna say I'm Chinese/ Sony, here's a reminder/ Check your Timbs[shoes]/ They probably say 'Made in China'.'

Having to clarify his status professionally and personally is nothing new for Jin, whose notoriety from his BET appearances focused on his unmistakable talent as much as his ethnicity. He was not just an Asian rapper tearing his way into the African-American-rooted hip-hop scene, he instantly became an inspiration and icon for young Asian-Americans who have only a handful of stars.

Oliver Wang, editor of Classic Material: The Hip-Hop Album Guide and a scholar of race and music at UC Berkeley, says Jin has unwittingly become a socio-cultural phenomenon. 'Jin is the unspoken voice for Asian-American youth who have been deeply involved in hip-hop since its inception, but who have rarely been represented among the most visible contributors to hip-hop culture,' says Wang. Jin is the first Asian-American rapper to have captured major attention, he says.

Like anybody who succeeds, Jin has his critics. To a few hip-hop purists, even his background - as the son of Chinese restaurant owners in middle-class suburbia in Miami, Florida - is an issue. The reasoning is that not having grown up in the 'hood is supposed to be a bar to joining the hip-hop hierarchy. And some say Jin's recording deal was influenced by the label's determination to grab a share of the affluent Asian-American market. At the other end of the scale are Chinese asking Jin why he is trying to be black.

Talk about having a lot to prove. 'I am always reminding myself why I'm doing this,' he says. 'I just love what I do and I want to be respected as an artist, not an 'Asian' artist. Being Chinese is a double-edged sword. As an Asian, you get attention if you're doing something in hip-hop, but you also have to work extra hard to prove your talent so your ethnicity is not a gimmick.'

Jin has wisdom and confidence in spades and, most refreshingly, these qualities gel well with his youthful eagerness and positive vibe. 'I get support from so many people,' he says. 'So no matter what, you can't take away that feeling I get when 14-year-old Chinese kids say they look up to me.'

Jin reaches out to all Chinese youth, says Tavis Szeto of San Francisco's Asian-American events company Abzolut Productions. 'Whether immigrants or those born here, lots of kids identify with what Jin raps about,' Szeto says.

Carl Choi, chief executive of Climax Entertainment - which specialises in promoting the 'Asian-Pacific American lifestyle' - agrees that Jin has an inspirational role. 'I first saw Jin perform live about two years ago,' Choi says. 'And since then, so many Asian kids have started rapping and making their own demos. Jin is probably the single biggest influence on them.'

Rap artists Jay-Z, Nas and Notorious B.I.G. were the biggest influences on Jin. He says his earliest memory of hip-hop was in sixth grade with LL Cool J's 1990 smash, Momma Said Knock You Out.

At the age of 14, Jin started rapping along - 'karaoke-style, let's say' - to hip-hop tracks. A year later, he recorded himself on tape. He gave US$5 to a student to play it after the morning announcement over his school's PA system, and by the first class that day, he says, everyone was talking about him.

The positive reaction to his rhymes of thought were enlightening: 'That's when I knew that was what I wanted to do.'

He honed his craft by practising at every opportunity, developing word play and participating in open-mic shows and underground MC battles. He made cash by selling home-recorded freestyle CDs out of his backpack at US$5 a pop. At the same time, though, he was struggling in class and endured summer school so he could graduate in 2000. Funnily enough, he says his favourite subject was mathematics. 'I wasn't good at it, I just liked it,' he says. 'At school, if I had to pick the type of student I was, I'd say I was the class clown.'

While his friends and classmates were impressed by his antics, his parents were not. After immigrating to Florida from Hong Kong at the start of the 1980s, Joe and April Au-Yeung worked hard at their restaurant to give Jin and his sister, Avah, now aged 13, a better life. Like most Asian parents, the Au-Yeungs wanted their son to be a doctor or lawyer - or at least go to college.

'At 16, when I told my parents I wanted to do music, they weren't having it,' Jin says. 'But after seeing my dedication - doing talent shows, making demo tapes and getting on BET - they finally got it. They're now my biggest supporters. Anyhow, I think I got my spontaneity and smart-mouth way from them.'

In 2001, the Au-Yeungs moved to Queens, New York. Jin's father took a construction job, while his mother joined the same company as a clerical assistant. The move took Jin to the heart of the hip-hop world.

His rise from there was certainly fast and furious. While hawking vanity CDs outside the Fat Beats record store in Greenwich Village, he met Kamel Pratt of the Crafty Plugz management company. Pratt recruited Jin for BET's 106 & Park battleground, and his future opened up in front of him.

But Jin will not forget his past. 'I've had my struggles just like everyone else in the industry,' he says. 'You know, when nobody gave a damn, no one wanted to listen, I got no response, got false promises.'

Climax Entertainment's Choi recalls first seeing Jin at a show in Los Angeles in 2001 - freestyling to a crowd of only 150 people in a 1,000-capacity venue. He knew 'this cocky kid' deserved more support, so helped the party's promoter bring in 700 people for the show three days later. 'He didn't even have a stage name back then,' Choi says. 'But, everyone is captured by Jin's bright eyes, energy and sheer presence every time he walks into the room.'

Jin is excited about his return to Hong Kong, his first trip since a family holiday when he was 12. And while he is now an official New Yorker, he says he hasn't forgotten his heritage: 'I still live at home with my family,' he says. 'Yeah, I'm the ultimate Chinese son.'