Six Figga Trigga

Detroit’s hip-hop scene is a crucible of resilience, creativity, and authenticity—a city that has given birth to some of the most influential voices in music. Out of this environment emerges Fina De Fab, a rising rap artist whose journey is as compelling as her sound. Her bold lyricism, electric stage presence, and unwavering dedication have set her apart, but it’s her connection to Detroit’s legacy and her own lived experiences that truly define her artistry.

For Fina, Detroit isn’t just a city; it’s a way of life. “Detroit shaped me as a person before it shaped me as an artist,” she reflects. Growing up amidst Detroit’s raw energy and unfiltered reality, she absorbed lessons in resilience, self-reliance, and honesty. The city’s storied hip-hop legacy inspired her, but it was the daily grind—the challenges and victories of real life—that molded her approach to music. “The city has a rawness to it, and I let that truth live in my music. I don’t hide the struggle or the growth—both are part of who I am.”

Fina’s music is a mirror of her journey. Her lyrics are unapologetically bold yet deeply personal, drawing on moments of triumph and vulnerability alike. “My inspiration comes from lived experience. I’ve had moments where I felt powerful and moments where I felt overlooked. Writing allows me to process both. Being honest in my lyrics is how I heal and connect with people who feel the same way.”Her songs often explore themes of perseverance, identity, and personal growth, resonating with listeners who see their own stories reflected in her words. She believes that strength and humanity go hand in hand. “I want strength to feel human, not distant.”

From an early age, Fina was drawn to artists who stood firm in their truth—those who balanced confidence with vulnerability. These influences shaped not just her sound, but her philosophy as an artist. “I was inspired by artists who stood firm in who they were. They weren’t afraid to show confidence or vulnerability. That balance is something I carry into my own music.”As she honed her craft, Fina learned to trust her instincts and embrace her unique voice. The turning point came when she stopped seeking validation from others and focused on her own vision. “The moment I stopped seeking validation outside of myself and trusted my instincts completely—that was a turning point.”

A recent highlight in Fina’s career was her collaboration with Curtis Young, the son of hip-hop legend Dr. Dre. The partnership was built on mutual respect and creative alignment. “The collaboration came together organically through mutual respect. Being in that creative space reminded me how far I’ve come and reinforced that I’m walking in alignment with my purpose.”This milestone not only affirmed her growth but also signaled her arrival as a force to be reckoned with in hip-hop. It was a testament to her relentless work ethic and the authenticity that sets her apart.

Music has always been more than a career for Fina—it’s been her anchor in turbulent times. She recalls a period when writing provided clarity and purpose during moments of uncertainty. “There was a point in my life where music became my outlet when nothing else made sense. Writing gave me clarity during moments of uncertainty, and that’s when I realized this was my calling.”

In an industry often driven by trends, Fina is adamant about staying true to her roots. “I stay grounded in my story. Detroit is in my foundation, but my voice is my own. I don’t chase trends—I let honesty lead the sound.”Her creative process is deeply intuitive. Sometimes she writes in silence, letting her emotions guide her pen; other times, she finds inspiration amid chaos. “I create from emotion first. Sometimes that means sitting in silence, other times it’s writing through chaos. I let myself feel fully before the music takes shape.”

Fina’s stage presence is legendary among her fans. Before every performance, she takes a moment to reflect and breathe, centering herself in her purpose and the people she represents. “Right before I step on stage, I take a moment to reflect and breathe. I remind myself why I started and who I represent. After that, I let go and trust the moment.”Her performances are more than entertainment—they’re a celebration of her journey and an invitation for others to find strength in their own stories.

Navigating the music industry hasn’t been without challenges. Fina has faced obstacles and setbacks, but she views each one as a lesson. “I’ve learned to see challenges as lessons. I allow myself to feel disappointment, but I don’t let it define me. Every obstacle has strengthened my resilience.”As a woman in hip-hop, she’s had to confront stereotypes and being underestimated. “Being underestimated has been a recurring challenge, but it pushed me to believe in my voice even more. I’ve learned to stand firm in my worth.”

Beyond the bold persona is a deeply introspective artist. “I’m very introspective. A lot of the confidence people see comes from quiet self-work behind the scenes.” This self-awareness fuels her authenticity, allowing her to connect with listeners on a profound level.Fina’s music isn’t just about her own journey—it’s about making others feel seen and understood. “I want people to feel seen and understood. My message is that strength doesn’t mean being unbreakable—it means continuing forward, even when it’s hard.”

With her sights set on growth and creative freedom, Fina is determined to build a legacy that’s both meaningful and authentic. Her advice to young women entering hip-hop is rooted in empowerment: “Protect your voice and your vision. Take your time, learn the business, and trust that your story matters.”Fina De Fab’s story is a testament to the power of authenticity, resilience, and heart. As she continues to rise, she remains a beacon for Detroit and a source of inspiration for artists everywhere. Her journey proves that with unwavering dedication and a fearless voice, anything is possible.

When people ask Latasha “Tash P” Perry where her story begins, she doesn’t hesitate: “Harrisburg, you know, that’s home, it’s what made me Tash P.” For Tash, Harrisburg is more than just a city—it’s the backdrop for every formative moment, the place that gave her both grit and inspiration. Growing up in Harrisburg in the early 2000s meant being surrounded by realness, resilience, and a sense of community where everyone knew your name. It was a place where music was everywhere—on street corners, in living rooms, and, most memorably for Tash, on the school bus.At 14, while most kids were still figuring out who they were, Tash P was discovering her voice. The MySpace era was booming—back when sharing music online felt revolutionary and every new friend request could change your life. “I’m kinda telling my age, but it was the MySpace days, lol,” she laughs. But for Tash, music started even before the uploads and profile songs. It started on those legendary high school bus rides home, where local teens would freestyle, battle, and show off their lyrical skills. “I used to hear other high school artists rap on the bus. I didn’t even know I could rap until I tried seriously, ‘cause I used to just rap with my homegirls and just make up silly rhymes.”What began as playful banter became something deeper. “I just kept trying, honestly. Pretty soon, I became one of the artists that rapped on the back of the bus too.” That space—raucous, supportive, competitive—became her first stage. It was here that Tash learned to hold her own, to command attention, and to let her creativity flow without fear or filter. The back of the bus was a proving ground, and Tash quickly became known as someone who could spit with the best of them.But Harrisburg’s influence went beyond music. The city taught her about loyalty, about standing tall, and about never forgetting where you come from. “That’s really where it all started for me. It was about being fearless, putting yourself out there, and just letting the music flow.” The lessons she learned here—about authenticity and ambition—would follow her throughout her career.

As Tash P’s confidence grew, so did her ambition. She started recording her own tracks—raw, unpolished, but full of heart—using whatever equipment she could get her hands on. “I had no idea about mixing and mastering at the time—just made a music MySpace.” In those days, MySpace was more than a social network; it was a digital stage, a place where unknown artists could connect with fans, collaborators, and even industry insiders.It was through MySpace that Tash’s world expanded. “I met the CEO K.O. (Danny) on MySpace around age 17 or 18. I sent one of my songs—I think I used to record on my computer—he heard it, was in the same city, next thing you know I’m rolling with them.” That simple message changed everything. K.O. saw something in Tash before she even fully believed in herself. He invited her to join Sykkline Entertainment, an independent label that was home to a tight-knit crew of up-and-coming artists: Spitz, Yinnix, Tuck, Shak, Mookie (R.I.P), and more.Sykkline was more than a label—it was a family. “Sykkline was honestly the blueprint of Tash P outside of my high school shenanigans. They saw the talent waaay before I did.” The crew welcomed her with open arms, giving her space to experiment, to learn, and to grow. “They really paved the way for me and showed me how to be an artist. They taught me about writing, performing, and the business. It was more than music—it was about building something together.”Studio sessions with Sykkline were legendary—long nights fueled by ambition and creativity, where everyone pushed each other to be better. “We were all hungry, just trying to make our mark. Sykkline gave me the space to experiment, to fail, to get back up and try again.” They celebrated each other’s wins, supported each other through setbacks, and built a foundation that would last long after the music stopped playing.Being part of Sykkline also meant learning the ropes of the industry—the importance of networking, the realities of promotion, and the power of believing in your own vision. “I learned so much from them—not just about music, but about life.” For Tash, those early years were about more than just finding her sound; they were about finding her tribe.

By 19, Tash P was no longer just a local talent—she was a force to be reckoned with. The turning point came when she was awarded Best Female Artist at the Central PA Hip Hop Awards. “Winning Best Female Artist indeed was huge! I was only 19 at the time, so it was kinda at that moment when I was like, ok, I really can make music, I really have a gift.”This wasn’t just another accolade—it was a moment of self-realization. For Tash, the award was validation that her passion, her persistence, and her willingness to put herself out there had paid off. “That win made me believe in myself. It was proof that all the hard work, all the bus rides, all the late nights in the studio were worth it. It gave me the confidence to keep pushing, to dream bigger.”But the recognition also came with responsibility. Suddenly, Tash had an audience looking up to her, peers cheering her on, and a city rooting for her success. She was determined not to let them down. “It wasn’t just about me anymore—it was about representing Harrisburg, representing women in hip hop, and showing the next generation that anything is possible.”Winning the award opened new doors—bigger shows, more collaborations, and a growing fanbase. But for Tash, the most important thing was staying true to her roots. “No matter how far I go, I’ll always be that girl from Harrisburg who started on the back of the bus.”

Looking back, Tash P sees those early years as the spark that ignited everything that followed. Each bus ride, each studio session, each small victory and setback was a building block, shaping not just her music, but her character. “Those bus rides, those studio sessions, those first shows—they made me who I am. They taught me to be fearless, to trust my voice, and to keep going no matter what.”Her journey is a testament to the power of perseverance and community. She didn’t have fancy equipment or a major label deal—just a computer, a MySpace page, and relentless drive. “I learned to never give up, to keep showing up for myself, and to always remember where I came from.”For Tash, the lessons of Harrisburg and Sykkline are woven into every lyric, every performance, and every new project. “These early experiences didn’t just shape my sound—they shaped me. I’m grateful for every moment, every lesson, every challenge. They made me the artist, and the woman, I am today.”As she continues to rise, Tash P carries her city, her crew, and her younger self with her—proof that greatness can start anywhere, even in the back of a Harrisburg school bus.

There are artists whose voices linger in your mind long after the last note fades, but few can warm your heart quite like Tea. Known on stage by a name that’s both a clever pun and a perfect metaphor, Tea pours her soul into every note, delivering music that comforts and uplifts, just like a steaming cup of tea on a chilly day. This is more than a stage name—it’s a reflection of her spirit, her artistry, and the impact she has on everyone lucky enough to listen.

Tea didn’t choose her name on a whim. Over the years, she noticed a pattern: people would approach her after shows, or slide into her DMs, sharing how her music helped them through heartbreak, loss, or moments of doubt. Some said her voice “ministered to their soul,” while others described feeling lighter and more hopeful after hearing her sing. Tea realized she was, quite literally, serving comfort and healing—one song at a time. That’s when it clicked: her music wasn’t just entertainment, it was a warm embrace, a light in the darkness. She became “Tea”—the artist who soothes and inspires.

Tea’s musical journey began before most kids can tie their shoes. Raised in a family where church was the heartbeat of the community, she found her first stage at five years old. Her uncle, recognizing her gift, handpicked her to sing a solo at their family church. The congregation was stunned—a tiny girl with a big, soulful voice, singing with the conviction of someone decades older. That moment wasn’t just a proud family memory; it was the spark that lit Tea’s lifelong passion for music.

By twelve, Tea had become the lead vocalist for her church’s youth choir. It was a big responsibility, but it taught her something priceless: how to lead, how to trust her instincts, and how to inspire others through music. “That experience built up a confidence in myself that I am as great as I think I am, and the sky is the limit,” she reflects. Those early days shaped not just her voice, but her sense of self-worth and her belief in the power of music to connect and uplift.

Tea’s teen years took her behind the scenes, where she honed her craft as a background vocalist for other artists—both live and in the studio. Far from being a step back, this chapter deepened her love for music’s subtler side. She fell in love with harmony, the magic of blending voices, and the thrill of creating ad libs that add unexpected flavor to a song. These skills now define her sound, giving her music a richness and emotional depth that’s instantly recognizable.

Ask Tea what’s happening inside when she sings, and she’ll describe a spark in her chest—a physical, electric feeling that tells her she’s exactly where she’s meant to be. “I close my eyes and feel every note before I belt it out,” she says. For Tea, singing isn’t just performance; it’s a full-body, soul-deep experience. Each show is a chance to connect, to heal, and to remind her audience (and herself) that music is a universal language of hope.

Tea’s artistry is a colorful blend of influences. She draws on the electric showmanship of Michael Jackson, the timeless soul of The Temptations, the emotional honesty of Selena, the smooth brilliance of Brandy, the creative spark of Victoria Monét, and the raw storytelling of Jessie Reyez. These legends inspire her harmonies, her chord choices, and her ability to connect with listeners on a deeply personal level. Tea’s songwriting is lightning-fast—she can write a full song in less than ten minutes—yet every lyric is packed with meaning and heart.

What does Tea hope you feel when you press play on her music? Pure passion. “Music is the only form of art that feels like home,” she shares. She wants listeners to feel that sense of belonging, to know they’re not alone, and to find comfort in her melodies.

Tea’s talent didn’t go unnoticed. In 2013, she signed as the lead female vocalist with Realeyez Entertainment, performing at Baltimore’s AFRAM Festival and countless open mic venues. Each performance brought new fans and deeper self-assurance. It was the audience’s response, their cheers and heartfelt messages, that made Tea realize: “I belong here.”

Looking to expand her reach, Tea released a Christmas album on SoundCloud, putting her own soulful twist on beloved classics. It was a strategic move—familiar songs, but with her signature warmth and originality, inviting new listeners to experience her voice in a fresh way.

Now, Tea is stepping boldly into her solo chapter. She’s evolving—spiritually, mentally, and emotionally—and her upcoming debut EP is a reflection of that growth. The project is deeply personal, charting her journey through heartbreak, healing, and self-love. “It shows a positive outlook on life and to love yourself first. It shows a vulnerable side that I’ve been hurt, and to not be afraid to walk away from what isn’t meant for you,” she says. “You are in control of your life and no one else. No one can save you, but you.”

In an industry that often pressures artists to fit a mold, Tea remains fiercely authentic. “I am very protective of my music because it is my baby. I only want to produce art that is authentic to me,” she explains. She’s proud to stand out and be different, trusting that the right people will connect with her music—and the wrong ones simply won’t.

Like many artists, Tea’s journey hasn’t been without detours. She stepped away from music for a while, pouring her energy into motherhood and daily life. But music never left her soul. “The only thing I’ve ever been passionate about was music. So, I dived back in full force. I owe it to myself to fulfill my purpose and do what makes me light up inside.”

To experience Tea live is to feel seen, heard, and empowered. Her shows are more than performances—they’re gatherings of comfort, connection, and inspiration. “I want people to feel empowered when they leave, to never give up on yourself, and if you don’t believe in yourself then who will?”

Tea dreams big. She hopes to collaborate with artists like Jessie Reyez, Victoria Monét, Kevin Ross, Ari Lennox, and Alex Vaughn. Her next milestones? A successful EP release, a record deal, and a countrywide tour—spreading her message of hope, healing, and authenticity to listeners everywhere.In every song, every show, and every heartfelt lyric, Tea proves that music—like a perfect cup of tea—has the power to change lives, one soul at a time.

Twavette doesn’t just sing—she sang. And if you grew up anywhere near a church choir stand, a quartet anniversary, or a sanctuary where the music hits so hard it raises the hair on your arms, you already understand the difference.

For Twavette, those early moments weren’t just “practice.” They were training grounds. They were the spaces where she learned that a voice can do more than carry a melody—it can captivate, shake a room, and leave people changed.

Church taught her the difference between singing and “sangin”

When Twavette talks about her upbringing, she doesn’t describe it like a cute origin story. She describes it like a foundation. Church harmonies taught her discipline, control, and power—but more than anything, they taught her what it feels like when a voice is so full of emotion and intention that it becomes unforgettable.

“It taught me the difference between singing and sangin,” she says. “It taught me that the voice has the ability to captivate.”

That word—captivate—matters. Because in the world Twavette came up in, vocals weren’t background decoration. They were the main event.

She remembers watching quartet groups and going to anniversaries—those special services where the voices are turned all the way up, and the room is filled with people who came ready to feel something.

“Hearing voices that made your hair stand up… I wanted to do that every time I wanted to sing.”

That’s the kind of standard you don’t unlearn. It becomes your baseline. It becomes the reason you refuse to be “just okay.”

The 90s/early-2000s R&B soundtrack that shaped her ear

Alongside church, Twavette’s musical DNA is deeply rooted in the smooth, emotional storytelling of 90s and early-2000s R&B—the era where ballads were allowed to be dramatic, love songs were allowed to be messy, and vocalists weren’t afraid to go there.

That influence shows up in her sound today: classic but not dated, emotional but not forced, and always led by vocals that feel like they’re telling the truth.

Vocal greatness as a blueprint: Whitney, Beyoncé, and Michael

Ask Twavette who shaped her as a listener and as a performer, and she names three icons who each represent a different kind of excellence.

Whitney Houston is first—because some things are simply undeniable.

“Whitney Houston based on raw vocal talent and rich tone,” Twavette says.

That’s not just admiration—it’s a blueprint. Whitney represents that once-in-a-generation vocal authority: tone, control, power, and emotion all living in the same note.

Then there’s Beyoncé, not just for the talent, but for the work ethic.

“Beyoncé simply because of her level of dedication to her craft.”

That dedication is the part people forget when they talk about “gifted” artists. Twavette recognizes that longevity is built, not wished for.

And finally, Michael Jackson—because timelessness is the goal.

“Michael Jackson for giving timeless music.”

Twavette’s influences aren’t random. They’re intentional. She’s drawn to artists who didn’t just make songs—they made moments, and they left behind music that still lives.

Turning vulnerability into artistry: the story behind “Cold Hearted”

Twavette’s debut single “Cold Hearted” is emotionally charged in a way that feels lived-in, not manufactured. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t sound like it was written for a trend—it sounds like it was written because it had to be.

And that’s because it was.

She wrote “Cold Hearted” in 2017, and it didn’t even start as a song.

“I wrote ‘Cold Hearted’ in 2017 which originally was a poem, back when my relationship was over and done. I didn’t actually record it until 2019.”

The inspiration is painful and direct: a love that ended, not with closure, but with repeated emotional dismissal.

“The man I was madly in love with was able to look me in the face and repeatedly tell me he didn’t care about me/my feelings.”

That kind of cruelty doesn’t always arrive as one big dramatic moment. Sometimes it’s the repetition that does the damage—the slow erosion.

“Each time, I felt my heart go colder until nothing was left to feel.”

That’s the emotional temperature of “Cold Hearted.” It’s not just heartbreak—it’s the moment heartbreak turns into numbness. And Twavette doesn’t shy away from that truth. She turns it into art.

A “ballad baby” who writes from the mind’s replay button

Twavette calls herself a “ballad baby,” and it makes perfect sense when you hear how she describes her writing process.

“Those are the easiest for me to write,” she says, referring to themes like love and resilience. “Just based on the way my mental health will slip, replaying certain events that I will reassess differently than when it initially happened.”

That’s a songwriter’s superpower—and a heavy one.

Because when your mind replays moments on loop, you don’t just remember what happened. You remember what you felt, what you missed, what you ignored, what you wish you would’ve said, and what you finally understand now.

That reassessment becomes lyrics. That emotional processing becomes melody. And the result is music that feels like a confession you didn’t know you needed.

A creative process that doesn’t stay in one lane

Twavette’s creativity doesn’t follow a neat step-by-step formula. It moves the way real inspiration moves: unpredictably.

“My creative process jumps around constantly,” she says. “I have songs I’ve written and hear vividly, but cannot articulate the production behind it.”

Sometimes the song is fully formed in her head, but the soundscape is still out of reach.

And other times, it’s the opposite.

“There’s music I’ve purchased/was given… and can’t find a single topic that I like or a song I’ve already written to match.”

That honesty is refreshing, because it highlights something most people don’t realize: songwriting isn’t always about “having ideas.” Sometimes it’s about alignment—finding the moment where the emotion, the story, and the sound all click into place.

Keeping the classics alive by writing a “response” to them

Twavette’s approach to blending old-school R&B with a modern edge is one of the most interesting parts of her artistry.

“I balance those elements by writing a response to those older songs, regardless of genre or decade,” she explains.

That means she’s not just inspired by the vibe—she’s in conversation with the music.

“If I hear something that resonates, I have to read the lyrics to make sure I understand the passion behind it. I may reference the original or mention the artist.”

That’s how you honor the past without copying it. You respond to it. You build on it. You keep the emotional lineage going.

Dream collaborations that reveal her musical heart

Twavette’s dream collaborators read like a hall of fame—artists whose voices and artistry are etched into music history.

“Majority of the people I’d like to work with are now deceased,” she says, naming Aretha Franklin, Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Amy Winehouse, Etta James, and Luther Vandross.

That list tells you everything: she loves vocalists who feel like something. Artists who could break your heart with one note.

But she’s also tuned into the now.

“Some newer artist I’d love to work with are Jazmine Sullivan, BigXthaPlug, H.E.R., and Leon Thomas.”

It’s a mix that makes sense for her: powerhouse vocals, real storytelling, and a willingness to blend genres and energy.

Training, technique, and the YouTube coach she swears by

Twavette’s vocals sound effortless, but she’s quick to remind people that skill is built.

“Cheryl Porter on YouTube, Cheryl Porter on YouTube, Cheryl Porter on YouTube!!!!!” she says, laughing but dead serious.

She credits Porter’s warmups and lessons for helping her expand on the training she already received in college.

“One day I’ll have enough money to also do one of her in person classes.”

That’s the mindset of a real vocalist: always learning, always stretching, always sharpening the instrument.

The most personal lyric she’s written—and what it reveals

When asked about the most personal lyric she’s written, Twavette doesn’t reach back into old material. She points to something new—something raw.

“My insecurities, my mental health, my anxiety yea those things, are all ‘me’ things. My bad friend I thought the battle was a we thing.”

It’s a lyric that hits because it’s not just about sadness—it’s about realization.

“Very simply put… the next time my mind goes dark, I have no one to call to be the guiding light. Just feel around until I fall in or find my own light switch.”

That’s the kind of line that doesn’t just describe a feeling—it names it. And for listeners who live with anxiety, depression, or emotional isolation, that kind of naming can feel like being understood.

The feeling she wants listeners to leave with

Twavette isn’t chasing streams. She’s chasing connection.

“When people hear my music, I want them to feel connected—to me/my emotions—and hope they resonate within themselves.”

Then she gives one of the most vivid metaphors you’ll hear from an R&B artist:

“Similar to the Avatar trilogy when they connect to the tree of life.”

That’s exactly what her music aims to do: create a shared emotional current. A moment where the listener isn’t just hearing her story—they’re feeling their own.

A career moment that made her feel truly seen

Validation hits different when it’s earned in a room full of competitors.

“The moment where I felt the most seen as an artist was when I went and competed in Miami with Coast2Coast,” Twavette says. “I came in fifth out of 250 people.”

That’s not luck—that’s presence. That’s artistry landing in real time.

Industry lessons: getting burned and still standing

Breaking into R&B isn’t just about talent. It’s about navigating an industry where people will try you.

Twavette faced that early.

“When I first started, I got with a producer who stole the publishing from my first recorded single,” she says.

Then it got worse.

“The same man told me he would own my name.”

But Twavette’s response is pure resilience—with the kind of humor that comes from surviving it.

“Yet four years later, he still don’t own shit.”

That’s a hard-earned lesson: protect your work, protect your name, and never let someone else convince you they control your future.

The truth about motivation, mental health, and taking a break

Twavette is honest in a way that’s rare—especially in an industry that expects artists to always be “on.”

“How do you stay inspired and motivated?” she repeats, then answers plainly: “To be honest… I don’t.”

In 2025, she took a break.

“A break I didn’t really mean to take, but at the same time my mental health has been suffering.”

She also speaks candidly about age and perception in the industry.

“I personally don’t think I’m meant to carve my own lane within the industry… I’m already what the industry would consider old.”

It’s a statement that reflects a real pressure artists feel—especially women. But it also highlights something deeper: Twavette isn’t interested in pretending. She’s interested in telling the truth, even when it’s complicated.

The legacy she hopes to leave: put your feelings on paper

When Twavette talks legacy, she doesn’t talk about awards. She talks about emotional survival.

“The message or legacy I hope to leave with my music is to put your feelings on paper, no matter what they might be,” she says.

From the smallest emotion to the biggest one—she believes it all deserves space.

“There will be times where the words won’t come, however giving your feelings the space they need to flourish, be understood, and be expressed is what’s important.”

That’s not just advice. That’s a philosophy. And it’s the heartbeat of her music.

What’s next for Twavette?

Right now, Twavette isn’t making big promises.

“As of right now… 2026 holds nothing for Twavette,” she says. “Maybe a couple features, maybe pop-up performances as I’m asked.”

And the EP fans have been waiting on?

“I’ve been saying I’m gonna put out my EP way before Covid and still haven’t done it yet.”

But even in that uncertainty, one thing is clear: Twavette’s voice is still her truth, and her truth is still worth hearing.

Because whether she’s singing, sangin, writing, healing, or taking a breath—she’s the kind of artist who doesn’t just perform emotions.

She lives them. Then she puts them on paper.

Charlotte, North Carolina isn’t just a city—it’s a living, breathing mixtape. On any given night, you’ll hear the pulse of Soul, the bounce of Afro-beats, the fire of Reggaeton, and classic Hip-Hop and R&B drifting from open doors and car windows. For Mone’t Symone, Charlotte’s musical diversity wasn’t just background noise—it was the soundtrack to her coming-of-age and the foundation for her artistry. “Growing up here, I never felt boxed in,” she says. “Charlotte is a city that lets you be who you are, try new things, and blend the old with the new.”

Mone’t’s earliest musical memories are rooted in the church pews. Sunday mornings weren’t just about singing—they were about feeling. The choir taught her about dynamics and emotion: how to build a song, how to bring a congregation to its feet, and how to pour your whole self into every note. “Church taught me the power of music to move people,” she recalls. “It’s where I learned that music is more than just sound—it’s connection.”

As a teenager, Mone’t found her voice at open-mic nights across the city. These weren’t polished, glitzy showcases—they were raw, unpredictable, and sometimes intimidating. But they were also where she learned to take risks, experiment with her sound, and share her stories. “Charlotte’s indie scene is competitive, but it’s also supportive,” she says. “You have to work for respect, but once you earn it, people root for you.” Juggling two day jobs while gigging and recording at night, Mone’t learned resilience and the value of hustle—qualities that would become essential as she navigated the music industry on her own terms.

Music wasn’t just an escape for Mone’t—it was therapy. Early in her journey, she faced the devastating loss of her father. That pain, along with her experiences as a mental health and domestic violence survivors advocate, became the raw material for her songwriting. “I write about self-worth and healing because I’ve lived it,” she says. “My music is my way of turning pain into something beautiful and hopefully helping others do the same.”

At just 13, Mone’t’s talent caught the attention of industry insiders. She auditioned for Gerald Levert’s Levert Entertainment and was offered an artist development deal—a dream come true for any young singer. But her mother insisted she finish high school first. “At the time, I was crushed,” Mone’t admits. “But looking back, I’m grateful. It gave me time to grow up, to figure out who I was, and to develop at my own pace.” Instead of jumping straight into the industry, she honed her skills through school talent shows, earned a college degree, and learned the nuances of studio work. This slow-burn approach taught her patience and the importance of authenticity—values that still guide her career today.

By 13, Mone’t had access to recording equipment and was already laying down rough cuts of unreleased songs. At 16, she released her first official single, “Diamond.” If she could speak to her younger self, she’d say: “Enjoy the process. Don’t compare your voice to your idols. Trust your pen, and remember that vulnerability is your superpower.” Those early sessions were less about chasing perfection and more about learning to tell her truth—a lesson that continues to resonate in her music.

Mone’t’s musical DNA is a blend of influences from some of the most powerful women in music. Lauryn Hill taught her that hip-hop and soul could be fused with poetry and activism. “Lauryn’s storytelling cadence and her insistence on self-respect in relationships really shaped how I write,” says Mone’t. Erykah Badu’s neo-soul experimentation inspired her to blend singing with spoken word, layering airy harmonies over heavy basslines. India Arie’s emphasis on acoustic instrumentation and affirmations encouraged Mone’t to write lyrics that celebrate self-love and women’s empowerment. “These women showed me that you can be vulnerable and strong at the same time,” she says.

“Reserve Lane” wasn’t just another single—it was a turning point. Written after heartbreak and deep self-reflection, the song is about choosing your own lane and refusing to let anyone else define your worth. “I wrote it after ending a relationship and realizing I needed to reserve space for myself—to heal, set boundaries, and rediscover who I was,” Mone’t explains. The track is both a confession and an anthem: “There’s pain, but there’s also freedom in reclaiming yourself.” She hopes listeners feel validated in stepping away from unhealthy situations and empowered to celebrate their own healing.

“Hennessy” is a masterclass in visual metaphor. The “Your Beat My Movie Award”–winning music video finds Mone’t at a dimly lit bar, pouring shots that symbolize emotional baggage. Scenes flash between her present-day independence and memories of a toxic relationship. In the final shot, she leaves the bottle on the bar and walks out—a powerful image of letting go and choosing healing over numbing pain. “The visuals make the song’s metaphor literal,” Mone’t says. “It’s about how easy it is to get lost in pain, but also how powerful it is to choose yourself.”

For those new to her music, Mone’t recommends starting with “Hennessy” or “Reserve Lane.” “Hennessy” introduces listeners to her smoky, confessional style, while “Reserve Lane” showcases her growth as a songwriter and her ability to turn personal healing into universal anthems. Earlier tracks like “Diamond” and “Addicted” are rooted in classic R&B, while “Move On” (featuring Ajaeze) infuses Afro-fusion energy. “Dirty Dog” (2025) is playful and bold, calling out infidelity over an upbeat groove. “My catalog is like chapters in a diary,” she says. “Each song tells a part of my story.”

Working with Nigerian artist Ajaeze on “Move On” was a standout moment. “We both believe in telling the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable,” Mone’t says. The collaboration was built on mutual respect, laughter, and honest conversations about the meaning behind each lyric. “When there’s real chemistry in the studio, the music just comes alive.”

Music has always been Mone’t’s anchor. She wrote “Reserve Lane” during a period of grief, finding solace in India Arie’s “I Am Light.” “That song reminded me I wasn’t defined by my grief,” she says. Writing her own songs became a form of journaling—a way to process pain and transform it into art. “I hope my music helps others heal the way it helped me.”

Inspired by Beyoncé and Summer Walker, Mone’t strives to be honest about heartache while protecting her peace. “I’ll share my emotions, but I won’t name names or share details that could hurt people I care about,” she says. For her, vulnerability and strength aren’t opposites—they’re two sides of the same coin. “There’s power in admitting you’re hurt, but even more power in choosing to heal.”

Awards and nominations have been both validation and motivation for Mone’t. Winning Best New Artist at the Queen City Awards, Best Solo Performer at Queen City Nerve’s Best in the Nest, and R&B Artist of the Year at the 704 Culture Hip-Hop Awards made her feel seen by her hometown. “These honors gave me the confidence to experiment with new sounds and invest more in my visuals,” she says.

A Mone’t Symone live show is more than just music—it’s an experience. She engages the crowd with call-and-response, shares the stories behind her songs, and isn’t afraid to hit raw, unfiltered notes. “I want people to leave feeling like they saw a piece of their own story in mine,” she says. “If you laugh, cry, or dance, I’ve done my job.”

If her career ended tomorrow, Mone’t would want to be remembered for one thing: “That my music was about loving yourself enough to heal.” Her catalog is a testament to the idea that pain doesn’t have to harden you—it can be the soil for something beautiful.

Looking ahead, Mone’t’s upcoming releases will showcase a more mature, self-assured artist. While the “Hennessy” and “Diamond” era leaned into classic R&B and vulnerability, the next chapter will experiment with neo-soul, Afro-beats, and even jazz. “Dirty Dog” is playful and bold, but new singles will blend that sass with the introspection of “Reserve Lane,” proving she’s not afraid to take risks while staying true to her message.

Mone’t hopes her journey inspires young girls in Charlotte and beyond to believe that you can choose both education and art. “Turning down a big opportunity at 13 didn’t end my dream—it let me grow into it on my own terms,” she says. Her story is one of resilience, authenticity, and commitment to healing. “I want the next generation to know: your timeline is your own, and staying true to yourself is always worth it.”

Discover more and connect with Mone’t Symone: https://linktr.ee/monet.symone

SheIsTrinity is exactly what her name suggests: a multifaceted, evolving woman who refuses to be boxed in. She’s layered—artist, therapist, leader, dreamer—and she’s always in a state of becoming. “I don’t pretend to have it all figured out,” she says. “I’m growing in real-time, learning myself in real-time, and I’ve chosen to own every part of that journey instead of hiding it.”For Trinity, life has been a series of chapters marked by adversity, confusion, reinvention, and constant reflection. But nothing has stopped her from moving forward. “Some people have met different versions of me, and honestly, that’s because I’m always unfolding,” she explains. “SheIsTrinity is a woman with depth, resilience, and a story still being written—and I hold the pen.”Her openness about this ongoing evolution is what makes Trinity so relatable. She doesn’t claim perfection; instead, she invites others to witness her journey as it happens. “I want people to know it’s okay to not have every answer. I’m proof that you can be a work in progress and still be worthy of love, opportunity, and celebration.”

Trinity’s journey is not about a single breakthrough or one big moment. It’s about embracing every chapter—no matter how messy or uncertain. She’s faced loss, disappointment, and the pressure to have it all together, yet she’s learned to honor her process. “I’ve had to reinvent myself so many times. Sometimes you outgrow places, people, or even versions of yourself. That’s not failure; that’s growth.”

For much of her life, Trinity felt the pressure to fit into boxes—especially as a Black woman navigating spaces that weren’t always built for her. “People will try to humble you whenever they can. We have to fight to be seen and beg to be celebrated,” she shares. In college, her ambition and self-belief sometimes made others uncomfortable. “You have to believe in yourself so much that people think you are delusional,” she laughs, “because that’s what it takes.”Being every woman—confident, talented, outspoken—can intimidate people. Trinity knows this firsthand. “I will not be convinced to make myself small for anyone, and I encourage other Black women to do the same because we are the backbone, leaders, and don’t have to accept any less.”She’s keenly aware of the double standards and expectations placed on Black women to shrink themselves, to be less visible, less vocal, less ambitious. “We’re told to be grateful for crumbs, to dim our light, to apologize for being extraordinary. But I refuse. I want young women to see that you can be all of who you are, take up space, and still be soft, loving, and powerful.”

Trinity’s belief in herself isn’t just confidence—it’s survival. “There were times when I was the only one who believed in my dreams. You have to be your own hype woman. You have to pour into yourself when the world is silent. That’s how you keep going.”

Growing up in Dorchester County, Maryland, wasn’t easy. “The odds were stacked against a lot of us,” Trinity recalls. She’s reminded of Robert Frost’s famous line: 'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.'Trinity saw firsthand how two people from the same environment could end up on completely different paths. “I remember seeing an acquaintance, one of my peers; we were in the exact same place, dealing with the same environment, and I went on to college, earned two degrees, and built a career as a healer. He later went to jail for life for shooting another one of our classmates. Same starting point, completely different roads.”Dorchester County shaped her by making her resilient, giving her clarity about what she wanted, and teaching her compassion for people’s pasts. “As an artist, it pushed me towards telling real stories. Where I come from, music and the arts were our outlet, our escape, and our way to make something meaningful out of what we didn’t have.”

Her upbringing wasn’t just about overcoming hardship. It gave her a deep sense of empathy and a commitment to using her voice for something bigger. “I want my music to reflect real life—the joy, the pain, the hope, and the grit it takes to keep going.”Trinity’s story is also about gratitude. “I’m grateful for where I come from, even the hard parts. It taught me resilience, compassion, and how to dream beyond my circumstances.”

SheIsTrinity’s story is still unfolding. She’s a woman who has learned to embrace every version of herself, no matter how the world tries to define her. Her journey from Dorchester County to the stage, from student to therapist, from gospel roots to R&B innovation, is proof that you can write your own story—and that every layer matters.“Being SheIsTrinity means I get to be all of me. I don’t have to choose. And I hope my story inspires others to believe that they don’t have to choose either.”

As she continues to create, inspire, and heal, Trinity’s legacy is already taking shape. “I want people—especially young Black women—to know that their story is valuable. You don’t have to fit into anyone’s mold. You can be a masterpiece and a work in progress at the same time.”

JessBless is a woman who has lived, learned, and turned life into music.In an industry full of trends and moments, she stands out as something rare: a truth-teller with a velvet voice and a warrior spirit. An award-winning R&B vocalist and rising force in Southern Soul, JessBless carries the weight of real life in every note—love, heartbreak, healing, and the quiet strength it takes to keep going when the world thinks you should’ve given up.“JessBless is a woman who has lived, learned, and turned life into music,” she shares. “I’m a storyteller, a lover of melody, and somebody who truly believes in using my gift to uplift people. Behind the stages and the spotlights, I’m a mother, a businesswoman, and a woman who has fought for everything I have. I represent resilience, passion, and purpose — and I’m still just getting started.”That “still just getting started” energy is what makes her so compelling. She’s not moving like someone who’s arrived—she’s moving like someone who understands that every stage, every song, every city is part of a much bigger calling.

At her core, JessBless is R&B—rich tone, emotional depth, and melodies that sit with you long after the song fades. But when she stepped into Southern Soul, something clicked on a deeper level.“Southern Soul felt like home the moment I stepped into it,” she says. “I’ve always been rooted in R&B, but Southern Soul gave me the freedom to be more conversational, more raw, more ‘me.’ The stories, the humor, the pain, the grown-folk energy — all of that matched who I naturally am. Creatively, it felt like someone opened a door I didn’t even know I was allowed to walk through. It gave my voice room to breathe.”In R&B, she could pour out emotion. In Southern Soul, she could talk—like she was sitting on the porch, like she was at the kitchen table, like she was right there in the middle of the story with you. That blend of smooth R&B vocals and Southern Soul storytelling created a lane that feels tailor-made for her: grown, honest, and unapologetically real.

You can’t fake the kind of honesty JessBless sings with. It comes from somewhere real.“Real life,” she says, without hesitation. “My life, my friends’ lives, things we as women talk about behind closed doors. I pull from situations that people don’t always want to admit out loud, but they feel them. My music is like sitting at the table with your girls, saying, ‘Let me tell you what really happened…’”Her pen lives in the gray areas—those moments between staying and leaving, loving and letting go, trusting and doubting. She doesn’t just tell you what happened; she walks you through the emotions, the questions, the late-night thinking that so many women know but rarely say out loud.That’s exactly what makes songs like “Good Good Man” and “I Think My Man Is Cheating on Me” hit so hard.

In a world where it’s easy to bash men and glorify toxicity, JessBless chose to write a record that celebrates the ones who actually do the work.“‘Good Good Man’ was inspired by those men who may not be perfect but they show up,” she explains. “They communicate, they love back, they try. A good good man is consistent, supportive, honest, and grown enough to handle a grown woman. He brings peace, not problems.”The song is a love letter to effort, to emotional maturity, to the kind of man who doesn’t just talk a good game—he proves it. It’s also a reminder to women that healthy love does exist, and it doesn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be real.On stage, “Good Good Man” turns into a celebration. Women point at their partners, sing from the bottom of their lungs, and claim the lyrics like a badge of honor.

Then there’s the other side of love—the side that doesn’t feel safe.“I was in that space where your intuition is telling you one thing, and the evidence is telling you another,” she says about “I Think My Man Is Cheating on Me.” “That song came from the confusion — the late-night overthinking, the ‘why is he acting funny?’ moments. It’s a song every woman has lived at least once, even if she doesn’t want to talk about it.”It’s not just a cheating song—it’s a song about that quiet war between your mind and your heart. The way she tells it, you can hear the doubt, the hope, and the hurt all living in the same breath. That’s what makes it powerful: it’s not just anger, it’s honesty.

If you really want to understand the impact of JessBless’s music, watch the women in the audience.“The women go crazy,” she laughs. “‘Good Good Man’ gets smiles, pointing, and singing from the soul. ‘I Think My Man Is Cheating on Me’ gets that ‘girl, that’s me!’ reaction. They laugh, they testify, they nod at each other. I love watching them connect with each other through my music. It creates a sisterhood moment every single time.”Her shows become safe spaces—rooms where women can laugh about the good men, vent about the bad ones, and feel seen in the process. It’s therapy wrapped in melody, set to a Southern Soul groove.“Expect soul, storytelling, and a whole experience,” she says. “I don’t just sing — I talk to you, I laugh with you, I take you into the story. Expect power vocals, real emotion, and a show that feels like therapy, entertainment, and fun all in one.”

Recognition has followed the work. With honors like 2022 Female Vocalist of the Year and the 2023 Prestigious Awardfrom the American Entertainment Awards in Atlanta, JessBless is no longer just a local favorite—she’s a nationally recognized voice.“Personally, it was validation that my hard work and my voice matter,” she reflects. “Professionally, it told me I’m walking in the right direction. Awards don’t define me, but they remind me that people are listening — and they believe in what I’m building.”She’s carried that belief across stages in Detroit, Milwaukee, Knoxville, Memphis, Atlanta, Phoenix, Brooklyn, Little Rock, Jackson, Houston, and more—each city adding a new chapter to her story.“Milwaukee surprised me the most — and in the best way,” she says. “I moved there after high school, so it’s home just as much as Tennessee is. But performing there, I wasn’t sure how the crowd would respond. They embraced it with open arms. The energy was loud, loving, and supportive, like they were proud to see one of their own shining on stage. It reminded me that both places I’ve lived — Covington and Milwaukee — shaped the artist I am today.”Those roots—Southern and Midwestern—show up in her sound: warm, grounded, and unafraid to tell the truth.

Beyond the mic, JessBless is very clear: she’s not just here to be “talent.” She’s here to own her narrative.“I built 12:34 Entertainment because I wanted ownership,” she explains. “I wanted to control my art, my direction, and my opportunities. The brand represents alignment — being exactly where you’re supposed to be at the right time. It’s about creating spaces for artists to shine without losing themselves.”12:34 Entertainment is more than a logo—it’s her statement that she refuses to be boxed in or controlled by anyone else’s agenda. Through her company, she’s focused on building platforms, producing quality experiences, and making sure that what she creates is aligned with her values and her vision.“It’s not easy, but it’s necessary,” she says of balancing it all. “I separate the two hats: JessBless the artist and Jess the CEO. Some days I’m on the phone negotiating, other days I’m in the studio pouring my heart into a mic. Balance comes from knowing that both sides serve the same goal — building a legacy.”That legacy is rooted in independence, integrity, and intention.

While many artists rely on teams to handle the visuals and production, JessBless made a different choice—she went back to school.Currently enrolled at the Los Angeles Film School, she’s studying entertainment production with an anticipated graduation date of June 2026.“It’s changed everything,” she says. “Understanding production, visuals, and the business side makes me sharper and more intentional. I don’t just create music anymore — I create moments. I think about lighting, storytelling, marketing, sound design, the whole vision. It’s made me a more complete artist.”That education allows her to see her career from a director’s chair, not just a microphone. She’s thinking about how a song lives on stage, on screen, and online. She’s learning how to make every release feel like an experience, not just a drop.It’s another layer of ownership—and another way she’s making sure no one can tell her story better than she can.

With her foundation set and her sound locked in, JessBless is ready to take her music beyond U.S. borders. In 2026, she’s heading to the United Kingdom for a London tour, expanding her reach to international audiences.“I’m excited to bring that Southern Soul flavor overseas,” she says. “I want them to feel the warmth, the passion, the storytelling. London has such a rich music culture, and I can’t wait to blend my sound with their energy. It’s going to be unforgettable.”That global move is powered by the Blessings on Blessings Promo Tour, a run that’s as spiritual as it is strategic.“It’s my testimony,” she says. “After everything I’ve pushed through, I’m walking into a season where blessings aren’t coming one by one — they’re pouring in. It’s about gratitude, growth, and staying grounded while God continues to elevate me. Blessings on top of blessings.”It’s not just a tour name—it’s the theme of this chapter of her life.

Ask JessBless what she wants her name to mean years from now, and she doesn’t talk about charts or numbers. She talks about impact.“I want my name to stand for honesty, soul, and resilience,” she says. “I want people to say, ‘She gave us music that told the truth.’ And I want the next generation to know you don’t have to fit in a box — you can create your own lane, build your own table, and still win. Your story is your power.”From the stages of Atlanta to the streets of Milwaukee, from the classrooms of Los Angeles Film School to the future stages of London, JessBless is moving with intention. She’s singing for the women who’ve stayed too long, loved too hard, healed quietly, and kept going anyway. She’s building a business, sharpening her craft, and walking into a season where her blessings finally match her grind.Authentic. Driven. Evolving.JessBless isn’t just an artist to watch—she’s a force to remember. And if her journey so far is any indication, the next chapters of her story are going to be even louder, even bolder, and even more honest than the last.

Stay tapped in with her journey, new music, and tour dates:

• Instagram: @officialjessbless
• TikTok: @mka_jessbless

Growing up in Newark, New Jersey, in the aftermath of the 1967 Civil Unrest, Malik H. Majeed’s childhood was shaped by an environment both honest and complex. “As a child, I didn’t even know what a housing project was, even though I lived in Kretchmer Homes, also known as Dayton Street Projects,” Malik recalls. “To me, this was just what living in the city meant.”The city’s scars—vacant lots, abandoned buildings, and blackened, smoke-charred structures—were explained to him as deliberate designs for Black communities after the 1960s unrest and the civil rights movement. Yet, Malik’s upbringing in the Nation of Islam offered a broader perspective. “I learned early that the struggle for respect is an enduring journey, a corridor we travel for generations.”

Reflecting on generational differences, Malik notes that the post-1960s remnants were fading as he came of age. “Traveling outside Newark was no longer blatantly restricted by traffic stops,” he explains. The generation after the 1970s missed the visible presence of drug addiction—at least until the crack epidemic. “Disco culture and programs like Newark’s Summer Jobs for teenagers distracted from the harsher realities,” he adds.

Malik remembers a time when older men—fathers, uncles, even local drug dealers—looked out for the youth. “They kept us away from trouble spots and scared us straight when needed,” he says. “Gangs were present, but nothing like today. Now, it feels more like indoctrination from movies and music.” The absence of that intergenerational guidance, he feels, is a defining challenge for today’s youth.

With 12 years as a Corrections Officer, Malik’s view of the justice system is candid. “I’m not convinced there is a justice system—only a system of penalty. Plea bargains exist to protect prosecutors’ conviction records, not to serve justice.” He’s seen firsthand how fear of lengthy sentences drives people to accept plea deals, regardless of guilt. “Society has a problem when people can’t meet basic needs and the government won’t help. Patriotism can’t exist without support for the vulnerable.”

Despite his career in corrections, Malik’s love for history predates his professional life. “History was always my favorite subject in high school,” he shares. It was a family event—the passing of his maternal grandmother—that truly sparked his journey into ancestry research. “At her repast, I realized her great-grandchildren didn’t know we were descendants of American Indians with Cuban ancestry. Their curiosity—and my own—drove me to write.”

Malik’s research led him back to Southampton, Virginia, in 1642—just after the Anglo-Powhatan Wars. “That discovery almost made me fall out of my seat,” he laughs. “It changed the narrative embedded in our mentality.” For Malik, these findings explain his family’s uniqueness and challenge stereotypes: “Our exotic appearance, the curiosity from immigrants, and the stories that block us from understanding ourselves.”

Initially, Malik had no intention of publishing his findings. “I wrote about 150 pages, just for myself. My uncle Edward Patrick read it and was amazed—he insisted it needed to be published. He believed, as I did, that others might share this ancestry and need these answers.”

Malik’s book, “Roc the Mike: Methods of Obliteration of the Native Americans,” delves into overlooked chapters of American history. “Everyone knows about the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, World Wars One and Two. But what about the War of 1812?” he asks. “That was the final era of conquering and subduing American Indians, and it’s when racial ideology was truly established in the U.S.”

Malik challenges accepted narratives: “Suppose there is no African American experience—suppose there’s a difference between Native American and American Indian. The term ‘Native American’ only started after the War of 1812. What are the odds that many slaves in Virginia weren’t African at all?”

For those interested in their own ancestry, Malik offers practical advice: “Study the time frame and the surrounding areas. You’ll be surprised by what you find.”

His hope for the future is simple but profound: “Unify with the authentic identification as American.”

Reflecting on his journey, Malik’s greatest appreciation is for his grandmother’s strong, emphatic stance—her legacy of resilience and love.

“That’s a difficult question,” Malik says. “The obliteration is ongoing. But Allah has preserved the knowledge for us to obtain.”To hear more from Malik H. Majeed and explore these stories further, listen to his podcast:
http://www.youtube.com/@RocTheMikeByMalik