Beyond the Charts: Session 4

Every generation writes its truth in rhythm. For some, it’s ink on parchment. For others, it’s spray paint on concrete. In Hip Hop, it’s always been the beat and the bar—the pulse and the poetry. This isn’t just music you listen to; it’s music that rewrites the room, challenges the system, and reclaims space that was never freely given.

Where rock once used distortion to disrupt, Hip Hop weaponized language. A line can sting sharper than a riff, a bassline can feel like a marching order. Here, artists don’t simply create tracks—they create testimonies. Their verses aren’t decorative—they’re declarations.

In this session, you’ll meet MCs and producers who understand that vulnerability and bravado aren’t opposites, but two sides of the same survival instinct. One rapper talks about sleeping on a friend’s floor, scribbling rhymes between double shifts, until the music became more than escape—it became emancipation. Another producer, tired of chasing trends, stripped his beats back to their skeleton: raw drums, unpolished loops, and the kind of space where words don’t just land, they linger.

The Hero’s Journey lives in Hip Hop in its purest form. The call to adventure is often born in a neighborhood overlooked, the trials are coded in studio sessions that collapse under doubt, the ordeals etched into open mics where silence feels heavier than applause. And the return? It’s not about crowns or charts—it’s about carrying the stories back to the block, giving voice to those who’ve been muted.

What unites them is not the chase for virality, but the insistence on truth. In a landscape obsessed with numbers, these artists measure success by resonance—by the kid replaying the same verse because it finally put words to his anger, or by the stranger who finds healing in a cadence they can’t quite explain.

Rap and Hip Hop are not monoliths; they’re living archives. Battle cries, love letters, political manifestos—all carved into rhythm. Session 4 isn’t about genre boundaries. It’s about how sound can become survival, how flow becomes identity, how bars become bridges.

Beyond the Charts: Session 4 isn’t tidy. It’s relentless, rhythmic, sometimes messy, always alive. It’s proof that the mic is more than an instrument—it’s a mirror.

This is where cadence becomes catharsis.

This is where the beat tells the story no algorithm can.

Welcome to Session 4. Let’s listen—not just to the sound, but to the struggle, the swagger, and the soul.

"V.I.P.: The Club Track About Court-Ordered Consequences"

When Exzenya drops a track, you don’t just hear it—you feel like you’ve walked into the middle of a story already in motion. Her latest single, “V.I.P.,” is no exception. But forget champagne buckets and bouncers—it’s not that kind of “V.I.P.” Here, the letters stand for Victims Impact Panel, the mandatory sessions people face after a DUI. Only Exzenya could turn such a bleak, bureaucratic setting into a satirical, club-ready anthem that somehow makes you laugh, nod your head, and wince all at once.

The beat hits hard, but it’s her delivery that grabs you. She fires off punchlines like she’s cracking jokes at a late-night diner after the club, sharp enough to sting but playful enough to keep you listening. It reminded me of the way Eminem once turned his darkest observations into comedy, except Exzenya is doing it with the slick confidence of Megan Thee Stallion and the winking mischief of Doja Cat. The humor lands because it’s rooted in truth—not personal trauma, as she’s made clear, but in the very real absurdities people face when consequences catch up to them.

What’s wild is how quickly “V.I.P.” has moved across the map. Within weeks, it’s charting on SoundCloud, popping up in playlists on Audiomack, spinning on international radio stations, and finding ears in 197 territories. That’s the kind of reach major labels brag about after heavy promo campaigns—except Exzenya is pulling it off independently. She’s been running campaigns through platforms like RepostExchange and Euro Indie charts, and every track she’s tested seems to hit Top 40 territory. That’s not luck. That’s strategy.

But numbers only tell half the story. The real magic is in how listeners are reacting. I’ve seen comments under the track where people admit they were laughing while also remembering their own mistakes or stories from friends. That’s the thing with satire—it disarms you. One second you’re vibing with the bass, the next you’re thinking about how fragile a night out can become. Exzenya is threading that needle on purpose, balancing humor and critique without ever turning preachy.

Her background explains some of this. She studied psychology and communications, which means she understands how people process stories, how humor can break down defenses, and how a well-timed lyric can stick harder than a lecture. And she’s got the receipts: more than 40 nearly finished tracks, concept albums in the works, and a knack for flipping cultural scripts in ways that feel both fun and uncomfortably close to home. She’s not just writing music—she’s running social experiments in rhythm and rhyme.

What I like most is that Exzenya resists easy categorization. One song might sound like a satire-filled bar crawl, another like a diary entry cracked open at 3 a.m. That contradiction—being both playful and deadly serious—makes her stand out. She’s not polishing herself into some flawless pop product; she’s willing to let the edges show. Even with “V.I.P.,” the production bangs like a club track, but the subject matter could easily double as a courtroom sketch. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. It works.

With a clean version and a club remix of “V.I.P.” already in the pipeline, Exzenya clearly isn’t letting the moment slip. She’s testing formats, stretching the same idea into multiple lanes, and inviting different audiences into the conversation. That’s the mark of someone not just chasing streams, but building an ecosystem around their art. And judging by how quickly her name is spreading, this is just the opening chapter.

"Cloudzin Makes Beats for the Quiet Hours"

Cloudzin doesn’t make music for crowded dancefloors or big festival drops. He makes it for the moments in between—when the city is quiet, the lights are low, and you just need something steady in the background to pull your thoughts into focus. His beats move slow, deliberate, like they’re breathing with you. It’s the kind of sound that doesn’t demand attention but somehow earns it anyway.

He’ll tell you it started out as a hobby. Just a kid with a piano, messing around, stacking chords and little melodies because it felt good. That’s still there in the music—you can hear the piano DNA running through most of his tracks. Even when the production leans heavy on textured samples or layered percussion, those clean, expressive melodies cut through like muscle memory. It makes sense; when you’ve been shaped by an instrument that forces you to think in both harmony and rhythm, you carry that mindset everywhere.

What makes his catalog interesting isn’t just the consistency, though. It’s the pacing. Cloudzin drops music like journal entries—small, frequent, unpolished enough to feel alive but polished enough that you know he cares. It’s a tricky balance a lot of producers struggle with: post too much and you sound disposable, post too little and you vanish. He’s figured out a rhythm that feels natural.

There’s also a contradiction that makes him relatable. He builds music to help people slow down—study, relax, breathe—but behind the scenes, he’s always moving. Experimenting, tweaking sounds, pushing new textures. That restless curiosity bleeds into the calm surface of the tracks, and I think that’s what keeps them from becoming wallpaper music. There’s detail if you want to find it, but it never clutters the mood.

Listening to a handful of his beats back-to-back feels like time-lapse weather. One track might sit in warm afternoon haze, the next in cool midnight rain. There’s no heavy-handed storytelling, no lyrics to guide you, just tones and textures shifting. It’s the kind of music you realize you’ve been listening to for hours without noticing the time pass—and that’s a skill in itself.

What’s also striking is how community-driven his releases feel. Every track feels like it’s made for people who already know what they need from this sound—students, late-night workers, anyone who builds little rituals around background music. It’s niche, sure, but it’s a niche with global reach. Lo-fi has become its own ecosystem, and Cloudzin knows how to sit inside it without getting lost in the sameness.

And he’s not slowing down. There’s always another experiment, another upload, another quiet beat finding its way into someone’s headphones at 3 a.m. The story isn’t about chasing a big break or a viral hit. It’s about building a body of work people can live with. Cloudzin is already doing that, one understated track at a time.

"DA REAL3ST's 'Push It' Is Built From Pressure, Not Polish"

The first thing that hits you when listening to “Push It” is the urgency. Not the kind of urgency you fake in a polished studio session, but the kind that comes from someone who’s lived every bar. DA REAL3ST isn’t trying to sell you a dream — he’s pulling you into the grind, the nights when walking away seemed easier, and the moments where the only option was to go harder. You can hear it in the delivery: tight, clipped, but carrying weight, like someone rapping with something to prove.

DA REAL3ST comes straight out of London, a city that’s birthed more than its fair share of hustlers and heavyweights. But his lane isn’t about mimicking what’s already out there. Since linking with FOKOGOLOKO back in 2018 — literally from an Instagram DM that turned into a real friendship — he’s been building something that feels bigger than trends. Their collab on “Push It” doesn’t sound like a calculated industry move. It sounds like two people who know each other’s hunger and decided to bottle that energy into a record.

What makes “Push It” different is where it was made. Forget glossy high-rise studios with neon lighting. This one came together in a no-frills room with history soaked into the walls. Local legends cut their teeth in that same booth, leaving behind an invisible blueprint. For DA REAL3ST, that wasn’t just nostalgia — it was a return to roots. He talks about every crack in the wall being a reminder of the grind, and when you hear the track, you believe him. It’s the sound of someone choosing pressure over comfort.

Live, the energy translates. His set at Memory BOXX wasn’t just another gig on the underground circuit — it felt like a declaration. No elaborate stage setup, no gimmicks. Just DA REAL3ST face-to-face with a crowd that recognized their own struggles in his verses. You could tell it wasn’t just performance; it was communication. Every time the beat dropped, it wasn’t just about turning up — it was about passing on that message: don’t fold, keep pushing.

There’s also a contradiction at play that makes him interesting. On one hand, his whole brand screams independence — self-recorded, self-driven, no machine behind him. On the other hand, he talks openly about wanting greatness, wanting to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the names that made him dream bigger. That tension — between staying rooted in the grind and aiming for the main stage — gives his music its edge. He’s not pretending he doesn’t want more. He’s saying he’s willing to bleed for it.

Listening back to “Push It,” I found myself caught on a small detail: the way the ad-libs don’t feel like an afterthought. They punch in like echoes of a conversation he’s having with himself — doubt creeping in, then getting shut down. It’s subtle, but it makes the track feel lived-in, like a diary entry over a beat. And maybe that’s why it connects. It doesn’t ask for sympathy, it just reminds you you’ve got more in the tank than you think.

With the single officially out on 15th August 2025, momentum is starting to build. The buzz is organic — playlists, influencers using it for hustle reels, fans quoting lines back at him online. But DA REAL3ST doesn’t talk like someone chasing virality. He keeps circling back to the same thing: connection. “I don’t make music to impress the industry,” he says, “I make music for the people who’ve been where I’ve been.” And honestly? That’s exactly what it feels like.

"Rad Brown Doesn't Chase the Spotlight—His Beats Do the Talking"

Rad Brown isn’t the kind of producer who fights for the spotlight. He doesn’t need to. His fingerprints are all over the music—clean, deliberate, and deeply in sync with the artists he collaborates with. On the upcoming EP Beaming (out September 26 via URBNET), you hear it right away: the beats feel roomy but never empty, jazzy but grounded, always giving Moka Only and his alter ego Ron Contour exactly the space they need to stretch out. It’s the kind of production that makes you nod before you even realize it.

What makes this project stand out isn’t just Moka flipping between his two voices—it’s the way Rad Brown builds a sonic world that makes both identities believable. Ron Contour’s mischievous punchlines glide over playful drum work, while Moka’s cooler, smoother delivery settles into grooves that feel lived-in, almost nostalgic. There’s a patience to Rad’s beats, like he trusts the music enough not to overstuff it. That restraint is rare, and it’s part of why the record feels so effortless.

Digging into Rad Brown’s backstory, the picture sharpens. He splits his time between Napa, California and Vancouver’s hip hop orbit, where collaborations with underground mainstays are less about clout and more about chemistry. He isn’t trying to reinvent hip hop from scratch—he’s reshaping it with his own lens, leaning on classic textures while pushing them forward. You can hear echoes of ‘90s boom bap and jazz rap in his work, but never in a throwback way. It feels contemporary without being trend-chasing.

The Beaming sessions sound like they were fun, and you can hear it. That’s important. Too many projects nowadays feel overcooked, like they’re trying to check boxes for streaming playlists. This one doesn’t. Rad lets the bass breathe, sprinkles horns and keys like seasoning, and then steps back to let the MCs play. There’s a looseness to it, but it’s the looseness of people who know exactly what they’re doing. That balance—the discipline under the casual exterior—is probably Rad’s greatest trick.

What surprised me most listening through was how visual his production feels. Certain tracks practically paint the room: warm tones, a faint vinyl crackle, drums that sound like they’re ricocheting off wood paneling. It makes sense, considering Rad has a background in visual arts too. He builds beats like he’s sketching—layers, revisions, subtle shifts until the frame feels right. It’s no wonder Moka Only, a master of bending his own voice, keeps coming back to Rad’s canvases.

There’s also something quietly contradictory about Rad Brown. His beats feel wide open and welcoming, but he himself stays low-key, almost hidden in plain sight. Ask around Vancouver or Napa’s scene and you’ll hear the same thing: he’s in the room, he’s contributing, but he doesn’t need his name in bold letters. Maybe that’s why his music feels so grounded—it doesn’t scream for attention, it earns it.

As Beaming makes its way into the world this fall, Rad Brown isn’t about to suddenly step into the limelight. That’s not really his move. But don’t be surprised if you start hearing his name more often, tucked in liner notes or whispered in conversations about producers who still care about the craft. Because while Moka Only and Ron Contour will grab the mic, it’s Rad Brown’s steady hand that keeps this whole project shining. And honestly? I can’t wait to hear where he goes next.

"Big Rome Doesn't Chase Trends—He Crafts Moments"

If you’ve ever had one of those tracks hit you so hard you have to rewind it immediately, then Big Rome’s new EP Mentally Disturbed / Scarred 4 Life is your kind of music. From the first beat of the lead single “Who I Am,” it’s obvious this isn’t just another hip hop release—it’s a life story set to rhythm. Rome’s delivery is confident but grounded, a swagger that comes not from hype, but from decades of putting pen to paper and sharing his truth. There’s a particular line in the first verse that made me pause, not because it’s flashy, but because you can feel the weight behind it.

Big Rome isn’t new to the grind. Before this EP dropped, he was already carving out a name in both the music and literary worlds. Wins with the Famous Poets Society in the early 2000s, Song of the Year from IMEA in 2014, radio spins across the globe—it’s the kind of resume that normally comes with a backstory of struggle and persistence, and Rome’s life certainly delivers. You hear it in his cadence, the way he tugs at the beat, and in the confidence of his lyrics. He’s someone who’s earned every bar.

What makes Mentally Disturbed / Scarred 4 Life stand out isn’t just the storytelling—it’s how Rome balances mood with movement. These tracks hit hard sonically, but they also make you think. There’s a funk, a bounce, a swagger that demands you move, but the content keeps your head locked in. You find yourself nodding to the rhythm while simultaneously unpacking the story he’s laying down, and that tension is precisely what makes this EP feel alive.

“Who I Am,” the lead single and its accompanying music video, is the perfect showcase. Watching it, you feel like you’re getting a seat at the table while Rome pulls back the curtain on his life. There’s a rawness to it, a kind of honesty that doesn’t need to shout—it just lands. The video isn’t overproduced, which actually makes it hit harder; it’s cinematic in the way it frames his story, not in flashy effects. You leave the room feeling like you’ve met the person behind the persona.

Big Rome’s appeal isn’t just in what he’s done—it’s in how he makes it feel effortless, even when it’s clearly anything but. His history of music placements in TV, film, and even video games is impressive, but what’s more striking is how seamlessly he weaves life experience into every line. Listening to him is like watching someone turn decades of hustle into a rhythm that you can not only hear but feel. You catch glimpses of the child, the poet, the hustler, all layered into one voice.

For anyone who’s been tracking him over the years—through features in Hip Hop Weekly, Coast 2 Coast, TunedLoud, and more—this EP is a reminder of why Big Rome has staying power. He doesn’t chase trends; he crafts moments. Each track is a chapter, and together, they tell a story of survival, self-discovery, and the grind that never stops. It’s an evolution that feels natural, not forced.

If you haven’t been paying attention, Mentally Disturbed / Scarred 4 Life is your invitation. Big Rome has a way of making music that’s repeatable, thought-provoking, and undeniably human. And the “Who I Am” video? Just the cherry on top—it hits, sticks, and leaves you wanting more. By the time the EP ends, you’re not just listening to an artist; you’ve glimpsed a life lived loudly and honestly. And honestly, that’s exactly why Big Rome deserves your attention right now.