They know me for the “Limpopo” fever, for the “Okpekete” dance, for the flamboyant style and the highlife-infused bangers that get the party started. In this game, they measure your worth in chart-topping singles, in viral challenges, in streaming numbers. And trust me, I love a hit song as much as anyone. There’s no feeling quite like watching a song you birthed in the studio take on a life of its own and become the soundtrack to people’s lives.

But the question I often get is: “Kcee, how do you do it? How do you stay motivated when the next big hit isn’t guaranteed? Doesn’t the struggle discourage you?”

“Limpopo” was a phenomenon, a blessing that took me across Africa and beyond. I’m eternally grateful for it. But if I tied my entire self-worth and career to that one song, I would have crumbled under the pressure years ago. I learned early on that true success in music isn’t about a moment; it’s about longevity. It’s about building a catalogue, evolving as an artist, and remaining relevant across different seasons of the industry. My goal was never just to have a hit; it was to become a mainstay. Every song, whether it sells a million copies or a thousand, is a brick in the foundation of that legacy.

The journey between hits is where the real work happens. It’s in the studio sessions that stretch late into the night, experimenting with new sounds, collaborating with different producers, and writing and rewriting until a lyric feels just right. That period of “struggle” isn’t a drought; it’s a training ground. It teaches you resilience. It hones your instincts. It forces you to listen more intently to the evolving pulse of the streets and to dig deeper into your own creativity. A miss isn’t a failure; it’s data. It tells you what didn’t work and pushes you to find what will. You don’t get discouraged by the process of getting stronger.

Why do I do this? Because I love it. I love the energy of a crowd. I love the process of creating something from nothing—a melody, a rhythm, a vibe. Even if a song doesn’t become a massive commercial hit, the joy of having created it, of putting a piece of my soul out into the world, is a reward in itself. The chase for a hit can be a trap. It can make you chase trends instead of creating them. My focus is on making good music, music that makes people dance, feel happy, and connect with their roots. If I stay true to the craft, the hits will come as a byproduct of that authenticity, not as the sole objective.