In a genre often defined by bravado, co-signs, and clout, Mike Osei is quietly reshaping what authenticity in hip-hop can sound—and look—like.
With the release of three conceptually rich tracks—Black Diamonds, Ryer Ave, and R.I.P MJangles—Osei, alongside filmmaker Vidhu Kota, offers more than music videos. Together, they’ve created a visual trilogy of identity—unpacking doubt, honoring roots, and celebrating growth in a way that feels not only rare but essential.
Osei’s story begins far from the stages of Harlem or the Ivy League halls of Harvard. Born in Ghana and raised in the Bronx, he came up in an environment of resilience—where survival and self-determination weren’t optional, they were daily requirements. He’s not interested in faking a persona to fit into rap’s traditional narratives.
Black Diamonds: The Unspoken Weight of Expectation
The first installment, Black Diamonds, is deeply personal—a sonic journal entry born out of frustration, pressure, and the lingering feeling of being misunderstood. Carried by reflective bars and minimal, moody production, Osei uses the track to finish conversations that never quite found closure—with his mother, his girl, his team, and even himself.
It’s not about proving anyone wrong. It’s about communicating the emotional toll of being almost there—chasing something so big that it demands explanation, even when words fall short. Through it all, his delivery is calm and controlled but resolute. It’s a rare kind of masculinity in hip-hop—rooted not in dominance but in vulnerability and inner conviction.
Ryer Ave: A Love Letter to the Block
With Ryer Ave, Osei shifts from internal tension to hometown tribute. Raised on a small street off the Grand Concourse, his experience of the Bronx was a complex one—tough, raw, but brimming with cultural pride. The beat flips to a classic boom-bap feel, setting the tone for storytelling bars laced with nostalgia, conflict, and reverence.
Filmed on-location by Kota, the Ryer Ave video feels like stepping into a memory. It’s a visual love letter to a place that shaped him—not through gloss or fantasy, but through grit and authenticity. “There was no room for artificiality or embellishment,” Kota shares. “It had to capture the Bronx for what it really is—complex, resilient, alive.”
The result is a grounded, reverent portrait of community and identity, proving that hip-hop’s origins in the Bronx are not just history—they’re still living, breathing, evolving.
R.I.P MJangles: Honoring the Past, Embracing the Future
The trilogy concludes with R.I.P MJangles, a triumphant glow-up anthem named after Osei’s former artist moniker. It’s a celebration of transformation—moving from hunger to purpose, from obscurity to clarity.
But the video isn’t just flashy success shots. It’s intimate, intentional, and layered—built on real photos, real memories, and real people. Kota weaves archival imagery with recreated scenes, bridging Mike’s past with his present. It’s a cinematic reminder that growth doesn’t mean forgetting who you were. It means recognizing your journey and bringing those who mattered along for the ride.
This final chapter becomes more than a victory lap—it’s a declaration of self-love and a nod to the ones who stayed close when the dream felt distant.
Together, Mike Osei and Vidhu Kota aren’t just collaborating—they’re co-creating a new language for hip-hop storytelling. One that prioritizes heart over hype. One that embraces education, emotion, and cultural nuance without compromising lyrical prowess or visual excellence.
These releases aren’t just about establishing Osei as a rapper or Kota as a director. They’re about creating space—for a different kind of voice to be heard. One that didn’t follow the script but still belongs in the spotlight.
Let’s start with Black Diamonds. Mike, you’ve described it as an emotional response to the external pressures in your life. What was the turning point that pushed you to translate those private struggles into such a raw, public expression through music?
I feel like I’ve always used music as a tool for self-expression, and I believe all the greatest artists do the same. For me, I take inspiration from rappers that I grew up listening to and look up to now as someone hoping to make his way into the game. I wrote Black Diamonds a couple weeks after my 25th birthday, and it came to me during a conversation I was having with one of my good friends and biggest supporters, my homie Joe. We were talking about how wild our dreams are, how the journey has its tough moments, and how beautiful it would be to really make them happen, especially for me, coming from my background. I never had a dollar to my name, came up out of a very rough environment, and even now I have people depending on me to achieve my potential. I was thinking of a way to capture that idea we were talking about–something hardly attainable, incredibly beautiful, but with a hint of darkness to it. Later that night, I came up with it: black diamonds. From there, the narrative as far as external pressures, overcoming doubt, and all those things, flowed naturally, and the song was the result.
Mike, Ryer Ave feels like a love letter to your roots but also a reflection on the complexity of growing up in the Bronx. Can you speak more about how that environment shaped your worldview and your approach to hip-hop as a craft?
For anyone who’s never been there, the Bronx is a place they probably couldn’t understand, even if I tried explaining it. It’s rough, and there’s a lotta crazy stuff that goes on out there, but there’s beauty in the madness. The cultural atmosphere is so New York and so hip hop–I mean, on any given block, you got abuelitas selling icees, delis selling $3 bacon egg and cheeses, old heads playing dice, youngins at the park, reggaeton blasting outta somebody whip…the list goes on. That’s not the New York you really see represented in movies, and it’s definitely not the New York people who are not from here are led to believe–because they’re just fed a certain image that’s designed to cover up all those things. I feel like being around that growing up is what’s given me my maturity at an early age, my lifelong sense of ambition, and my confident attitude. All that factors into the content of my music and my interest in trying to keep the culture alive–of writing with an emphasis on lyricism, just like how hip hop started back in its birthplace, in the BX. Vidhu, you said Ryer Ave resonated with you immediately, and you wanted to capture its “raw, unfiltered energy.” Coming from a different cultural background, how did your own story influence the way you approached directing that video? Ryer Ave just hit me. The raw, unfiltered energy is something you just feel. It's the pulse of a place, the stories etched into the concrete, the lives lived out in the open. Coming from my background, with a foot in two worlds – the structured, often traditional Indian upbringing and then navigating the chaotic, vibrant energy of New York – it shaped how I approached directing that video. There's this inherent understanding of community and culture. In many Indian communities, there's a strong sense of collective living, where everyone is connected. Ryer Ave, despite its apparent "roughness," has that too. It's a community, a living, breathing entity. I felt that. It wasn't about highlighting the "otherness" or the "struggle" from an outsider's perspective. It was about capturing the humanity, the resilience, the familiarity of that shared space. I think my background gave me a certain sensitivity to the unspoken. There's so much in Indian culture that's communicated through gestures, through silences, through the way people interact with each other. This translated into how I directed the video. I wasn't just looking for the big, dramatic moments. I was looking for the small, intimate details: the rhythm of everyday life. Being an immigrant, you learn to see the beauty in the mundane. You learn to appreciate the grit and the resilience it takes to build a life in a new place. Ryer Ave, in its own way, embodies that. It's a place where people are making it work, where they're finding joy and connection amidst the challenges. That sense of perseverance that's something I deeply resonated with. My background played a part- it wasn't about imposing my own narrative, but about finding the common threads, the universal human experiences that connect us all. It was about capturing the heart of Ryer Ave and letting it speak for itself.
The video for R.I.P MJangles is deeply nostalgic and personal. Mike, what was it like revisiting your earlier self—both emotionally and artistically—through this song and video? Did it give you any new insights about your journey?
Nah, the video for R.I.P MJangles is still, to this day, one of the proudest accomplishments of my life. For a long time I’ve identified myself as an American immigrant by way of Ghana, West Africa, and a dreamer of better days by way of Bronx, New York. That identity has always stood out in most environments I’ve been a part of, and I think most of the people around me have always struggled to fully understand what it means. Creating a video that could actually visualize the core of who I am was such a special privilege I was able to have, and I’m forever thankful to Vidhu and his team for that. The thing I love about it most is that it’s showing a very different kind of artist in the hip-hop world, but it’s seamless: you get the urban backdrop that represents the roots of hip-hop, but you also get an authentic look at what it means to be an African immigrant chasing the American Dream, you hear a traditional west African prayer in the mother tongue, and all of it comes together with no problems at all. I’ve always known my story is different from the typical hip-hop story and wondered how I could package it to be understood, and that video really did it best so far. Vidhu, as a filmmaker who focuses on themes like identity and belonging, how do you see your work with Mike bridging cultural and creative narratives? What’s the synergy between your visual storytelling and his lyrical introspection? For me, identity and belonging aren't just abstract concepts; they're lived experiences constantly evolving and being redefined. Mike's music, with its personal and introspective lyrics, explores these themes in a raw and honest way. The synergy between my visual storytelling and his lyrical introspection comes from a shared understanding of vulnerability. In one way or another, we both approach our work with a desire to capture the authentic human experience, the messy, beautiful, and sometimes painful realities of life. My visuals aim to amplify voices to create a space where stories can be seen and heard. We're both committed to challenging what people think and expanding the narrative of what it means to belong. While our backgrounds may be different, we both speak the language of human emotion. Mike's lyrics tap into universal feelings. My visuals strive to translate those emotions into a visual language that resonates with viewers from all walks of life. Mike's lyrics provide the emotional core, and my visuals provide the emotional landscape. We're able to create a space where viewers can explore their own identities and find a sense of belonging. It's about building bridges between cultures and creative narratives, one frame and one lyric at a time.
Mike, you mentioned taking a different route through education and self-belief rather than following the traditional street narrative often heard in hip-hop. How do you navigate authenticity in a genre that often expects artists to fit a particular mold?
The best music is music that tells an original story but in a way that feels familiar. All the people who commanded the most respect in hip-hop toed the line between artistry and commercialism, innovation and convention. The way I represent my authentic self is by packaging the original story that I have–someone who grew up around the street but chose to pursue education and eventually made it to Harvard–by speaking to the emotion of the journey instead of the literal events. Emotion is universal, and it’s what makes us human, so if I’m not trying to connect with listeners through shock value, which is the usual trope of hip hop, then instead, I’m going to connect with them through the shared human experience: themes of ambition, insecurity, love, loss, bliss, fear, anger, all that. Those are the things that can help my listeners feel what I feel, even if they never went through the things I went through or heard a rapper tell the story I’m telling.
With Black Diamonds, Ryer Ave, and R.I.P MJangles, there’s a clear arc of vulnerability, identity, and triumph. When you look at this trio of releases, what do you think they reveal about you as an artist today compared to when you first started with Product of Environment?
Haha, y’all did y’all research, huh? Man, Product of Environment, aye–tough freshman EP, if I do say so myself. I mean, when I was just getting into music, all I cared about was saying something that could command respect. I wanted people to hear my lyrics and think, “Oh, that boy can rap.” Now, with music like Black Diamonds, Ryer, and R.I.P., I’ve developed my pen enough that I don’t feel like I have to focus so much on impressing people with my skill, and I can focus more on connecting with people through my expression. These songs represent an artist with a much higher level of control in terms of capturing emotion, communicating it with imagery and depth, and packaging it in a way that’s more relatable. Vulnerability, identity, and triumph are things that are present on Product just as much as it is on these records and as it will be on future records, but I think at this point now, they reveal an artist that’s really honed in on the importance of self-expression, separate from talent or skill alone.
What’s next for both of you? Mike, what can you share about your upcoming project Blackstar, and Vidhu, how do you see your collaborative journey evolving beyond these recent visuals? Are there new stories you’re eager to tell together?
Vidhu: It's been a whirlwind. "Fool's Gold," my thesis film, finally made its way onto YouTube after a year on the festival circuit. It was such a personal project, exploring those themes of disillusionment and the search for something real, and I'm really glad it's out there now, accessible to everyone. And then, my next film, "Sacrifice Of Soul," is just about to wrap post-production. It's a very different beast, much darker, delving into the complexities of sacrifice for art. I'm really excited to see how it resonates with people. Even though narrative films are integral to me, music videos have become such a vital part of my creative expression. Working with artists to build a whole world that's unique to each project is just so creatively satisfying to me. I'm so excited to see where Mike takes his next project, and I'm hoping to aid him in creating this world. I see our collaboration evolving into something even deeper. I think we're just scratching the surface of what we can create together. I'm eager to explore narratives that push boundaries that challenge us both creatively. There are so many stories I want to tell, stories that delve into the nuances of identity, the complexities of human connection, and the raw, unfiltered experiences of life. I want to explore the spaces between cultures, the moments where worlds collide, and the quiet revolutions that happen in everyday life. I'm really looking forward to it.
Mike: Blackstar is in the works, and I’m grinding to complete it as fast as I can. It’ll have some of the best verses I’ve ever written and some of the smoothest hooks, but most importantly, it’ll be a new sound in terms of production. Lately, I’ve been trying to do things that haven’t really been done before–I’m studying other genres, I’ve been stretching my voice, I’ve been doing my own production for the first time, and all of that is helping me to crack the code on something that’s more than just some hard beats or some boom bap storytelling. I can’t give away too many specifics, but that’s the vision for it. This man Vidhu is the truth, and y’all can expect the visual storytelling on that project to have his genius all over it, for real.