Who am I ?

Kristjan is a Latvian Estonian rapper, record producer rapping on boom bap beats. In my lyrics, I share my subjective thoughts and experiences. My story isn’t as simple as exponential progress. people tend to joke that ive been rapping even before the day i was born. My rapper’s career started in 2001 when I began to experiment with beat production.

The Boom Bap Battle: A Rapper’s Journey Through Music, Setbacks, and Soul

For over two decades, I’ve poured my heart into boom bap hip-hop, a genre that demands lyrical mastery, raw authenticity, and relentless grit. Since my first beats in 2001, I’ve faced a stroke, dialysis, toxic friendships, relationship struggles, and the unforgiving shifts of the music industry. Guided by spirituality and a passion for music, I’m still here at 36, crafting intricate rhymes in a world that often overlooks the golden-era sound. This is my story—a testament to resilience and the hustle to keep boom bap alive.

The Beginning: Finding My Flow
I started experimenting with music production in 2001, captivated by hip-hop’s gritty beats and storytelling. By 2003, I’d cracked the structure of a solid track and dreamed of becoming a rapper. In 2004, I recorded my first rough verses, but a stroke that year nearly ended everything. It made my left side paralyzed—a crushing blow for an aspiring MC. Recovery was brutal, but it lit a fire in me: life’s too short to chase anything but your true calling. Music was mine. By 2006, after years of retraining my body and voice, I was back, earning respect in Latvia’s underground hip-hop scene and leading a crew of artists. But toxic friendships derailed us. I aligned with talented but troubled individuals whose lack of discipline—often tied to alcohol—stifled progress. I clung to hope they’d change, but they didn’t, and our crew fell apart.

In 2009, a spiritual mentor introduced me to Vedic philosophy, reshaping how I saw myself. Through their guidance, I realized I wasn’t just a local rapper—I had the potential to go global. I made a bold choice: to rap in English, breaking free from Latvia’s small scene. My peers mocked me, and toxic dynamics with former collaborators turned sour, but I spent three years perfecting my flow, aiming for an East Coast-inspired delivery. By 2012, the grind paid off. My rhymes were tight, my accent sharp. I partnered with my then-wife, who learned beat production from me, and we crafted tracks that gained modest traction—about 1,500 streams per song. We recorded in professional  studios to capture the sound I envisioned, a costly but necessary step. From 2014 to 2017, I performed across Europe, from Brussels to Sofia, though relationship strains began to weigh on me, testing my focus. In 2016 we released my debut album Reflection.

Being a boom bap rapper in 2025 is a relentless hustle. The industry favors trap, drill, and melodic rap, dismissing boom bap as “old school.” Streaming algorithms on Spotify and YouTube prioritize viral, trendy sounds, making it tough for sample-heavy, lyrical tracks to break through. Financially, it’s a gamble—niche genres like mine rarely offer steady income, forcing a balance between art and survival. The craft itself is demanding. Boom bap tracks are like puzzles—rhyme schemes, text architecture, and mixing frequencies require precision. Every song needs depth, and fans expect substance, sometimes clashing with my introspective style. Marketing is my Achilles’ heel. I create high-quality music, but social media feels like a maze. I’m learning, but it’s stressful, especially when casual fans treat hip-hop like a hobby, not grasping the years I’ve invested in building a studio, mastering audio engineering, and working with a turntablist.

Health challenges have been a constant hurdle. Dialysis in recent years slowed my momentum, leaving me feeling disconnected from the scene. Toxic friendships, from unreliable collaborators to past betrayals, have added to the weight. Relationships, too, have tested me—my marriage ended amid the pressures of my career, leaving scars. Yet, spirituality has been my anchor, offering clarity and strength to keep pushing.

At 36, I’m working from a home studio, battling to regain my place in the scene. Dialysis and age make me hyper-aware of time, but I’m not done. I’m mastering new tracks, wrestling with the technical grind of mixing, and slowly cracking the marketing code. Boom bap isn’t just music—it’s my lifeline, my philosophy, my fight. 

The road has been rough, but it’s forged an artist who values authenticity above all. To every artist grinding in a world that doesn’t always get it: keep pushing. Your truth is worth the battle.