Welcome to another episode of GROAVEN Radio.
Samara Cyn on “Hardheaded” builds a code of self-respect, stubbornness recast as a boundary that protects ambition. With “Product, Dealer, User,” Nick Grant runs a three-angle concept where artist, hustler, and consumer share the same mirror, the point landing through clean rhyme schemes and a tight conceit. Che Noir and 7xvethegenius turn “Show & Tell” into proof-of-skill writing, punchlines anchored in concrete detail and a hook that sticks because the verses do the heavy work. On “Ashtrays & Angels,” Fashawn sits with loss and Ras Kass adds seasoned perspective, giving the episode its moral temperature. Lukah’s “Monologue 4 My Doggs,” joined by Statik Selektah, Stooky Bros., and Evryday Saints, reads like street ethics spoken straight to the crew, less performance than obligation. Bahamadia’s measured authority on “Up Close” tightens the focus through close-quarter observation and unflappable control. Loyle Carner and Navy Blue step inward on “Purpose,” tracing the small routines that keep a day intact and letting quiet lines carry the weight. ScarLip’s “Runaway Love Freestyle” cuts through with survival talk and the kind of hard-won clarity that comes from paying the bill in full. Maxo’s “Idk” stays inside uncertainty without collapsing, the question itself becoming structure. Offset and JID on “Bodies” push the energy toward competition, verbal bursts delivered with athletic focus. Wale’s “Where to Start” puts memory and pen in the same room and asks for direction without theatrics. Together these records place the show in a writer’s lane where testimony, concept work, and sharp craft set the agenda.
A different charge arrives with Ric Wilson and Nic Hanson on “America Runs On Disco,” a party record that treats celebration as policy and writes joy in plain language. LION BABE’s “Flowers” keeps generosity literal, gratitude stated outright and carried by an easy lift in the chorus. Kels’ “Gone” sits with distance and the way absence draws a hard line around desire. Celeste’s “On With the Show” uses stage talk to describe resilience without hiding the cost. Jane Handcock’s “Can’t Let Go” studies attachment in direct terms and refuses to glamorize the spiral. Khamari’s “Sycamore Tree” writes from quiet recall, using steadiness as an anchor for growth. Yaya Bey’s “Spin Cycle” names the pattern and then chooses release, a lucid breakup log that puts self-respect first. JACOTÉNE’s “Forgive Me” sounds like a plea that knows consequence. Halle’s “Braveface” carries resolve while admitting nerves. kwn with FLO turn care into action on “Talk You Through It,” trading empty comfort for specific promises. JayDon and Zeddy Will keep the room loose on “Boujee Baby,” hook-forward bravado built for grins. Terrace Martin and Kenyon Dixon’s “Tyrese” offers grown R&B about intent and devotion, written with plain talk and zero hedging. Nyah Grace’s “I Can’t Love You the Same” sets a boundary with clear language and refuses to soften it.
