On his last full day at the Google offices in January, Allen packed up his desk and quietly said goodbye to some co-workers. While the members of his sales team were aware of his decision, several co-workers waved to him nonchalantly, unaware it seemed of his impending departure from the company.

“Not many people know I’m leaving,” Allen said, clad in a Google sweatshirt as he walked across the campus. He passed a volleyball court where employees had a spirited game going underneath stadium-style floodlights. “I’m trying not to make too big of a deal about it.”

With a half hour to burn until the dining halls open (Google, some might say strategically, doesn’t offer its free dinner for employees and guests until 6:30 p.m.), Hoodie sat down on a bench in an adjacent building and rested his legs.

“I’m going to work harder than anyone else,” he said. “It’s the only way I know I can succeed…if I’m not recording or working on new music, I’m answering fans and bloggers directly. I want to cultivate an intimate relationship with my fans, and let them know I care.”

Allen’s music can loosely be defined as frat rap—much like counterparts Asher Roth and Sam Adams, he avoids political themes in favor of odes to parties and girls.

Allen grew up rapping for his friends on Long Island, a skill he would break out on command at house parties. When citing his influences, Allen turns away from the gangster rap that was hugely popular in his youth and points to less well-known—and less controversial (read: violent)—acts like Jurassic 5, Outkast, and Common.

Allen makes no apologies for his subject matter, and doesn’t seem to mind that he has been largely ignored by major hip hop critics. For now he’s happy to keep connecting with his fans, and receiving breathless, adoring reviews from minor music blogs that champion him to readers. (As one blogger recently put it: “Hoodie has some serious skillz on the mic.”)

His online popularity is due in no small part to his dedication and availability to his audiences. When, at a recent concert, a venue wouldn’t allow ticket-holders younger than 18 into the show, Hoodie made a point to go outside, take pictures with all of them, and freestyle for them.

“I’m here to tell positive stories,” he says. “I want to provide music that people from different upbringings will like.”

Like many musicians, including local internet sensation Pomplamoose, who came of age in the twilight of the major label system, Allen is in no hurry to sign to a label. He is currently on a nationwide tour, performing at SXSW in Austin, with West Coast stops planned for later this spring. “Management is big…but the most important thing is to get yourself a great lawyer,” he says. “I don’t want to just sign my life over.”