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How else would you say Peckham has influenced your development as an artist?

Peckham is the trenches. People didn’t want to get off the bus there because they felt unsafe. I’ve spent the majority of my life there, so I can’t really tell you what it’s like. I always thought it was normal until I went into depth with people about certain things, and they told me it wasn’t. Growing up in Peckham, you definitely had to have a tough skin, the majority of people I know from the area do. It builds character and charisma, 100%. In Peckham, if you were good at something, you had to make sure you were the best at it, because we didn’t have much else. Whether it was football, acting, hairstyling, that’s what you’d become known for. Your talent was what made you an individual, and you just had to run with it.

At what age did you realize you wanted to pursue music professionally?

All of my mates were playing football and were smart in school, whereas I was pretty average. Music was my thing, so I just focused on that. Around this time, I started getting in trouble on the streets. People would say to me: “Look at Stormzy, he’s from Croydon”—which is just down the road—“and is Ghanaian too. There’s not much difference between you guys, you can do what he’s doing.” The fact that people from my area believed in me and gave me the push to take music seriously.

How did you end up focusing on drill specifically? 

Drill was the sound I grew up on. It was very dominant when I came onto the scene. It was fresh. The activities I was around and got into when I was younger weren’t particularly the best, but they were what I saw and lived. For that reason, I felt like I could relate to drill more than any other musical genre.

You’ve said previously that it’s important for you to “bring the real” to UK drill. What do you mean by this?

My lyrics are about the things that are going on, not just in Peckham but in London in general. I think that people need to be aware of them. There are films like ‘Top Boy’ and ‘Blue Story’, but I don’t think people actually realize they’re real. Some people have told me they didn’t even realize that there are guns in London. I’m like, “people are getting gunned down a lot.” People need to know about what’s going on within our culture. I feel like it’s hidden and being pushed away. Sometimes people misinterpret my music as glorifying X, Y, and Z, but I’m just saying it how it is. I’m a very blunt and in your face person. I’m projecting how I am through my lyrics, but I’m also telling a story.

You’re part of Zone 2 rap collective. Can you tell me a little bit more about the group?

Zone 2 is made up of people from two different schools: the majority are from my old school, and the others are from a sister school that was 15 minutes down the road. We’ve known eachother since we were eleven or twelve and we’re all from the same area. We’re basically inseparable. We formed the collective because we all have a love and passion for music. There’s a similarity to our sounds, and we have the same way of thinking.

You released two solo mixtapes—‘YPB: Tha Come Up’ and ‘YPB: The Archive’—in 2021 and 2022. Tell us about the inspirations and creative processes behind these albums. 

Whenever I make a project, I give myself about nine months to record. I send all the songs I write to people close to me, see what they think of them, and then pick out their favorites. That’s how I run with it. I don’t really have a set structure of putting projects together. That’s something I definitely want to work on as I grow as an artist.

These projects featured artists including CB, Dizzee Rascal, French the Kid, Dusty Locane, Squeeks, and 26ar. How do you identify the artists you want to work with?

Most of the time I just reach out to people whose music I’m a fan of, or that I feel like I could connect with outside of the studio. I grew up listening to Dizzee Rascal, so it was only right for us to make a song together. I used to download all of his music on BitTorrent. When I told him that, he was upset that I wasn’t going to HMV and buying it!  

How does it feel to have grown up listening to artists that you’re now working with as equals? 

It’s about time, innit? Obviously it’s nice, and it shows me that I’ve worked hard, but I think it was just inevitable.

Who would you like to collaborate within the future? 

I’d love to work with Lil Durk. He’s been making music since I was twelve-years-old. I’ve seen him elevate. I even know his children’s names—I don’t know any other artists’ children’s names! He’s been on a journey that’s quite similar to mine, because he’s been working for a long time and it’s taken him a while to get to where he needs to go. I’d also like to collaborate with Drake… everyone loves Drake.

Till this point, you’ve always worn a mask to perform and no one knew what your face looked like. Was this only out of necessity, or is it also part of your artistic identity? 

At first it was a necessity, but it became part of my image. I was worried that if I took it off then it would ruin the whole Kwengface demeanor, but now I feel like I’ve elevated as an artist. I’m no longer just a drill artist, I’m an artist full stop. I hope taking off my mask on my A COLORS SHOW will allow me to tap into new markets.

Is there one lyric in the song which is particularly meaningful or important to you?

I say: “Is it a fan or is it an opp? Either way I’m moving on job.” I’m aware that people are going to try and test me, but I always stay firm. I like: “I love my freedom, but I’ll risk it anytime I see them,” because it’s the truth. I also say: “Right now my lifestyle’s changing, can’t lie see I like it, last year I was chilling in a bando, now I’m chilling with the crew from Love Island.” It shows growth.

When I close my eyes and I remember how my life used to be, it isn’t a nice feeling. When I’m out chilling in £3.5 million houses and rubbing shoulders with good people, I realize that I don’t ever want to go back to how things were. I say a lot of powerful stuff on the record. I’m preaching how I feel.