The creation of a song is a mysterious—even mystical—thing. Few artists are inclined to speak publicly about the intricacies of songwriting and production. And there’s another layer of opacity to that already arcane process when it comes to hip-hop, where working with writers has historically come with a stigma—even though MCs have rapped words written by others at least since 1979’s “Rapper’s Delight.” Because of hip-hop’s fixation on “realness” and first-person narratives, the songwriter’s role has often been obscured. Relegated to the role of ghostwriter, the names of hip-hop songwriters were either buried in convoluted credits or simply not listed at all—their compensation paying for both their talents and anonymity.

But as last year’s Meek Mill vs. Drake beef showed us, attitudes toward the use of songwriters have softened. At this point, it seems as though the collective opinion of music fans is: If it’s hot, who cares?

One of Gizzle’s biggest advocates—a man who famously rapped “don’t worry if I write rhymes, I write checks”—agrees. “At the end of the day it’s about the hit record and do people love it?” says Diddy. “Nothing else really matters.” Somewhat ironically, Gizzle met Puff through Meek Mill after she and the Philly rapper worked on what would become Nicki Minaj’s “Big Daddy” in 2014. Soon after, Gizzle began working with Puff on his MMM and No Way Out 2 albums. “She’s a one-of-one,” he says. “If you’re just trying to get on the radio and do the same thing that everybody else is doing, it’s probably not the best use of her time. You need that unique type of perspective, especially if you’re trying to do something that’s going to shake the game up.”

Even when it comes to writing songs for others, Gizzle’s work is bespoke, not the one-size-fits-all approach taken by other pens for hire. Instead of adhering to label checklists, she tries to get inside the heads of the artists she works with. And interpreting a rapper or singer’s creative goal means taking an immersive approach: “I’ll be over here talking with them, and then actually hanging out and partying with them and knowing exactly what they on.” Though she’s written complete songs for artists, she makes it clear that she often plays a smaller role in a song’s creation. “If I work on a song with T.I. or Kanye or Jay Z, don’t think I’m writing these mans’ raps!”

For Gizzle, a songwriter need not be the one who comes up with all the lyrics and melody by herself. In the studio with clients, she moves between the roles of writer, coach, editor, idea person, and the one who simply sets the mood for optimal creativity. “I’ll do whatever my role calls for me to do,” she says. “So if that’s just coming through with the ambiance or giving my support, like, ‘That shit’s hard’ or ‘You can do that shit better,’ I’m into all of that.” Most great things are the result of a concerted effort, and songs are no different: “People can’t be narrow-minded about what the actual process is—there are very few hit songs where you only see one or two names in the credits.”

Of course, it’ll take hits of her own for Gizzle to become the star she wants to be. On a brief break between song work, we discuss the future. “I’ma put out quality shit and if you fuck with it, you fuck with it. If you don’t, then nigga, it doesn’t matter ’cause I’m comin anyway,” she says in between bites of fruit, recalling the same self-assuredness she showed in that YouTube video five years ago.

As it stands, she’s got the talent, connections and access that’ll set her up for success; she’s currently part of Puffy’s Bad Boy Family Reunion Tour and plans to release her proper debut album early next year. But what if her plan doesn’t work and her unique perspective doesn’t translate to the masses? “Then I’m just gonna pack up and quit—sike!” she says. Her goal isn’t to be the richest, best rapper alive. “I’m hard working so I want to be compensated as such,” she reasons. “I’m very good, and I just want to make good music.” We chat for another five minutes until she excuses herself and strides back to the vocal booth. It is time to work.