The mid-evening sun hangs over a blue rowhouse in Ridgewood, Queens on the longest day of the year, and a throng of teens from all over New York City have been partying since noon. They’ve come to roast hotdogs, rejoice under the light of the summer solstice, and most importantly, to celebrate the release of May God Bless Your Hustle, a mixtape by an 18-year-old named Michael Jordan Bonema, who raps as, simply, MIKE. The house is known as The Cabin, an incubator for a talented young DIY hip-hop scene, helmed by squads of prodigious rappers and producers who met on the internet and endure the long, sleepy train rides between boroughs to visit each other.

MIKE: "Gods With Me" (via SoundCloud)

May God Bless Your Hustle is a vivid document crammed with biographical details, wizkid observations, and frank confessions about mental health. “Looking for some walls for my fists to scar/Ninth grade hoping I ain’t missed the cars,” Bonema raps on “Rockbottom/Peace to Come,” recalling moments when he would recklessly cross busy streets, his head in a cloud of indifference. The tape showcases his rumbling baritone, which can hit like a concrete block thrown from a rooftop or float featherweight across a beat, and a tape-hiss soul sound inspired by MF DOOM and King Krule that’s as caustic as it is smooth. In the last two years, he’s released a steady flow of tracks on his Bandcamp page, gaining support from rap fans and fellow artists, including his hero, Earl Sweatshirt. Bonema messaged Earl a thank you note for purchasing one of his early mixtapes, and they have since become friends IRL, with Earl helping Bonema navigate the perils of prodigious success. In conversation, Bonema casually refers to his mentor by his real name, Thebe.

MIKE: "Armour" (Buy on Bandcamp)

Bonema’s been rapping since he was 14, and his talents are now coming into focus. In his raps, he’s an apt chronicler of teen life, and his writing can infuse meaning into the banal social transactions and errant thoughts that occupy the space of a regular day; coming from Bonema’s mind and mouth, a friend’s handshake, subway advertisements, or a dead cellphone are clues to a grander plan.

Bonema was born in South Livingston, New Jersey but he has moved around a lot. He spent a chunk of his childhood in England, because his mother saw better educational opportunities for him there. He grew up between the London neighborhood of Hackney and just outside the city in Essex. It was there, around the age of 10, that he first got interested in rap after encountering a grime music video on TV. Two years later, in 2010, he moved back Stateside to live in Philadelphia with his dad. He spent four years there, listening to Chance the Rapper and gawkily teaching himself to rhyme over MF DOOM beats he found on YouTube. In 2014, he followed his father to Brooklyn before moving to the Bronx a year later.

MIKE: "Standout" [ft. Wiki and Chip Skylark] (Buy on Bandcamp)

He’s now part of a crew called the sLUms, formed from friends he made on SoundCloud and in his Brooklyn high school. For someone who is a relative newcomer to the city, his ability to render it in song can be photorealistic, like how he elegantly describes the process of buying a blunt wrapper in a bodega: “I cop a Swisher off Rivington/Watch the center split/Seep like licorice.” Part of this comes from the endless train rides he took from home to school and back, watching silently as people went about their day. And while his powers of observation are impressively mature, the confessional nature of his music makes it even more affecting.

When I meet Bonema for the first time in a Sri Lankan restaurant in the Lower East Side, he is gregarious and forthcoming, eager to dig into his upbringing and his love of Atlanta hip-hop. He’s quick to admit that music isn’t just a career choice, but the only way he can vent about the pressures of his life. Since moving back to the States seven years ago, he’s only been able see his mother once, due to paperwork issues. (She currently lives in Nigeria.) “May God bless your hustle” is a comment she often leaves on his Instagram pictures and tells him over the phone.

MIKE: “Years/Alone” (via SoundCloud)

At the party in Ridgewood, it’s closing in on midnight when Bonema steps into the center of the living room to perform his new tape live. For some of the kids who’ve trekked here to see him, a school day awaits in the morning. When I ask people in the crowd why they like him, they point to how he talks about problems they all deal with: depression, having no money in your pocket, parents not getting you. The speakers sputter to life, and the conversation quiets. Bonema says how grateful he is for everyone making it out, and his deep voice cracks a little bit. Everyone smiles, including him.