rappshit

The morning after Reverb Nairobi felt like waking up after a storm—the kind that rearranged not just the air, but your bones.

CJ lay in bed longer than usual, not because he was tired, but because he didn't want to disturb the stillness that had settled around him. He could still hear the applause. He could still feel the tremble in his chest from that last beat drop. The world outside had shifted, but so had something inside him.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

92 Unread Messages.

He sighed. The storm wasn't over—it had just begun to echo.

---

The Group Chat: "RootedRebels🔥"

Lulu: We're officially at 12K downloads on AudioWave. All organic. ZERO promo.

Tico: I got an email from someone at VICE Africa. They want to interview CJ.

Charles: Playlists. Blogs. Even a spoken word collective in Jo'burg just posted about our set.

James: My cousin in Eldoret says even the matatus are playing "Wrong Side of the News." Bro. That's how you know.

CJ replied with a single voice note.

CJ: "I love you guys. Let's not lose the hunger."

---

CJ's Inbox – Highlights

Mzazi Manasa: "You kids lit something in that crowd. Let's collaborate on something spiritual."

Reverb Organizers: "We'd like you to headline next year. And maybe run a youth cypher workshop?"

An A&R from Lagos: "We think CJ's voice could break outside East Africa. Interested in a Pan-African EP?"

G-Kross: Let's talk.

That one made CJ pause.

He didn't reply. Not yet.

---

Meanwhile: Lulu's Side

Lulu was at the university library, scribbling lyrics on the back of a photocopied sociology paper. Her inbox had exploded too—offers to headline a feminist poetry night, a possible TEDx Youth invitation, even an inquiry from a French cultural attaché.

But she was still thinking about the girl in the third row. The one who wore pain like a pendant. Lulu wanted to write for her.

She flipped the page and wrote:

> "She carried grief in a purse too small,

So her silence burst through applause."

She smiled, softly.

Then got back to work.

---

Charles's World: Beats and Business

Charles sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor, surrounded by wires, cables, and a notebook filled with financial calculations. The Roots & Rebellion project had made waves—but Charles was focused on making it sustainable.

He wasn't just a beatmaker anymore. He was a producer with a purpose.

He scheduled studio time with two up-and-coming rappers from Embakasi. One of them had DM'd him after the Reverb performance: "Your beats made me believe I could say something without shouting."

That was enough.

---

Tico's Timeline

Tico had become the invisible hand that kept it all moving. Grant applications. Licensing queries. YouTube monetization. Merchandise prototypes. He barely slept.

His older sister called to check in.

"You need rest, Tito."

"I'll rest when the movement pays rent."

She laughed. "You sound like dad."

"I hope I do."

He clicked 'submit' on a grant proposal titled: "Community-Based Hip-Hop as Postcolonial Therapy."

---

James: A New Light

James returned to the youth center where he once got kicked out for starting a freestyle battle in the canteen. This time, he was invited.

He stood in front of twelve boys, all around 10-14, all wide-eyed.

"What's the first rule of writing?" he asked.

One kid shouted, "Make it rhyme!"

James grinned. "Not always. First rule is: make it real."

He picked up a piece of chalk and wrote on the board:

> "You can rhyme for fun,

Or rhyme for fire.

But always rhyme like you

Just dodged a liar."

The boys clapped.

James grinned. He didn't just perform anymore. He taught.

---

CJ Meets Blanco (Again)

It was bound to happen.

CJ walked into a small café in Kilimani, hood up, accompanied by Neville. Blanco was already seated, sipping black coffee. He looked less flashy than usual—no chains, no entourage. Just intensity.

"I heard your fire at Reverb," Blanco said, nodding.

"Glad you watched."

"I did more than watch. I saw investment."

CJ leaned back. "So what are we talking?"

Blanco placed a printed contract on the table. "Distribution deal. Two singles. Regional push. You stay indie, but we amplify. Keep ownership."

Neville raised an eyebrow. "Sounds too clean."

Blanco smirked. "Because I actually want this to last. The street wants something real. You built it. I want to ride the wave—not steal the boat."

CJ flipped through the contract.

"I'll need a lawyer."

"Of course."

"We don't compromise on message."

"You'd be fools if you did."

CJ stared at him. "If we do this... we do it loud."

Blanco smiled. "Loud is all I do."

---

That Evening – Rooftop Return

They met again—CJ, Lulu, James, Charles, and Tico—on the same rooftop where they'd celebrated after the performance.

But this time, it wasn't just celebration. It was planning.

A whiteboard. A three-month roadmap. Merch drops. A community tour. New songs. School visits.

"We should open for others too," Lulu said. "Platform the upcoming voices. Let them rise with us."

James nodded. "What if we ran a writing contest in low-income schools?"

Charles added, "And give studio hours as prizes."

CJ looked around. "Let's not be the gatekeepers. Let's be the gate-openers."

---

Nightfall – A Personal Verse

Later, when the rooftop emptied, CJ stayed behind.

He opened his notebook and wrote:

> "I used to write just to escape,

Now I write to invite.

The stage is a map,

And every mic is a light."

He smiled, closed the book, and whispered:

"Let's keep the fire burning."

--