Cavite rapper Shanti Dope didn’t come up through flashy bookings or polished promo runs. He found footing in crowded rooftops around Bacoor, where cyphers — freestyle sessions — unfolded with no warning, no stage, and no promise of payoff. He showed up at Kamuning bars where the setup was barely functional, sound bleeding into the walls, the floor sticky with spilled drinks. There was no spotlight, just a small group of people tuned in enough to catch unpredictable freestyle verses. That was enough of a reason to keep writing. To test something new. To stay hungry. This was Shanti Dope in his early days as a rapper.
Before he became the hitmaker behind singles like “Nadarang,” “Amatz,” and “City Girl,” he was still going by Sean Patrick Ramos. Just another innocent skater making the trip from Cavite to Quezon City with a backpack full of scribbled drafts and a phone where he’s saved beat or two. What passed for a plan was more like repetition: pulling up to open mics, sharing cramped spaces with other rappers trying to hold their own, learning how to keep pace in a circle that didn’t wait for you to catch your breath. The bar Catch 272 in Kamuning became one of those early spots; the kind of place where, if you wanted to be heard, you had to earn it.
“Kahit dati mahilig ako mag-ipon ng mga verse bago pumunta ng event,” Shanti tells Rolling Stone Philippines in an exclusive interview, “para pag naka-cypher na, nakabilog yung mga tropa at may na-i-spit akong verse.”
His rise to stardom was meteoric, billing him as the biggest thing in Cavite in a scene where most hip-hop acts are based in Manila. His tireless efforts of riding the public buses to perform on stages like Fête Dela Musique back in 2017 to starting his own label called Young God Records in 2022 flew by fast due to his dedicated following.
But after the pandemic, which halted shows and live gigs, Shanti had to rebuild his work ethic from the ground up. For someone who had built his career on being in rooms with people, the isolation forced a different kind of reflection. He started focusing more on his songwriting, especially on the parts he used to delegate to producer Klumcee, like hooks and choruses. There was no more passing it off. If he was going to make it personal, he had to be fully in it. Eventually, life became a one-on-one cypher with himself.
That sharpening didn’t just happen in the booth. More recently, he rapped about how his father had experienced substance abuse in “Drxg$,” one of his more cautionary tale singles that discusses the taboos of drug use in the country. By then, Shanti began seeing himself differently off-camera. Away from the noise and glamor that came along the way, when his hits were continuously charting. Ever since the release of his albums and EPs, his journey to fatherhood began in October of last year. Being a rapper and being a father weren’t two opposing roles. They started informing each other.
Na-realize ko ang halaga ng trabaho ko noong dumating ang pandemya, biglang nawala ang gigs, nasa bahay lang ako. Doon ko naisip na kailangan ko nang seryosohin ‘to.
“Kasi ‘yung rap at songwriting parang madali na sa akin gawin ‘yun e,” he says. “Pero ang mahirap [ay] ‘yung ‘pag nasa likod na ng camera kung paano ako magiging tatay sa anak ko o kung paano ako iiiwas sa mga dapat kong iwasan, sa bisyo.”
The need to show up for his child became part of the reason he wanted to write with more care. That duality of being grounded and still trying to dream has reshaped his music and his life. There’s no blueprint for longevity in Filipino hip-hop. Labels will try to recreate what worked, but artists like Shanti aren’t interested in copy-pasting. His next moves may not be loud, but they will be deliberate. He’s done trying to be the coolest. He’s more focused on staying human in a scene that forgets fast.
When Shanti Dope writes about something as trivial or reckless, it is all about survival. His recent release, “Pusher,” which came out last June, was a harrowing take on the Philippines’ war on drugs, one that’s become more relevant as its mastermind, former President Rodrigo Duterte, awaits trial at the Hague, Netherlands, for crimes against humanity. He raps about the casualties lost in the hands of the state and how his paranoia starts to worsen as he and his crew become a likely target, same as when “Amatz” was on the watchlist of the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency back in 2019.
Shanti knows the spotlight fades fast, and the game rarely slows down to let you breathe. That’s why he’s not chasing hits for the sake of virality. He wants the work to mean something when it lands and to last after the playlist skips past him. Young God Records might be a name on paper, but for Shanti, it’s always been about the people behind it. The friends, the verses, the cyphers, the nights spent writing instead of performing. It’s a label made by someone who never forgot where he came from and someone who knows exactly who he wants to be, long after the hits stop coming.
In this exclusive interview, Rolling Stone Philippines sits down with the 24-year-old Caviteño rapper, who speaks up on fatherhood, the unpredictable nature of making a hit, and the perils of being way too ahead of the game.
This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity
Naalala mo ba ‘yung gig sa Catch 272, Kamuning? Kasama mo noon si Buddhabeads, 2017 yata ‘yun. ‘Yung crowd noon, parang sampu lang, pero ang saya. Tinanong ko pa si Buddha kung taga-Bacoor ba siya. ‘Yun ‘yung unang event na napanood kita sa [hip-hop collective] Mula Etivac. Kamusta ‘yung mga panahong nagsisimula ka pa lang?
Noong 2017, gusto ko lang talagang makapag-perform ng live. Kahit gaano kalayo, dinadayo ko pa rin. Galing pa ako ng Bacoor papuntang Kamuning. Masaya ‘yung mga gig noon sa Mula Etivac. Dati, nag-se-skateboard lang ako tapos pinakilala ako ng kaibigan ko kina Buddahbeads at Ejac, mga rapper din doon. Naging magkakakilala kami, naging tropa. Sobrang saya ng mga gig sa Cavite. Uso sa amin ‘yung cypher. Nakabilog, pasahan ng lines. Kaya lagi akong may nakaipong verse para may ma-spit ako kapag naka-cypher kami.
Naalala ko rin, walang ubusan ng freestyle noon, lalo na si Ejac. Tapos, one year after, nakalineup ka sa sa Rap is Life sa B-Side. Sobrang wild n’on, ang daming tao. Grabe ‘yung energy. Pagdating naman sa “Nadarang,” ano ‘yung proseso mo? Anong iniisip mo habang ginagawa mo ‘yun?
Gusto ko lang gumawa ng kantang chill, mellow. Kasi nasanay ako noon sa lyrical rap: ‘yung mabilis, boom bap, double time. Trip ko talaga dati ‘yung ganoon style. Pero noong time na ‘yun, gusto kong gumawa ng love song na may ibang vibe. Uso rin noon si The Weeknd, kaya gusto ko rin gumawa ng ganong tunog. Hindi ko nga alam na magiging pop-ish ‘yung kalabasan. Pero noong natapos ko ‘yung kanta, paulit-ulit ko siyang pinapakinggan. Wala akong expectation na sisikat ‘yun, pero sobrang excited akong maiparinig siya. May fanbase na rin ako sa underground noon, may mga nakikinig na rin sa akin sa mga gig. Inaasahan ko na sila lang ‘yung makakarinig ng “Nadarang.”
Napansin ko, since pumasok ka sa eksena noong 2016, ang dami nang nagbago sa rap game. Sa tingin mo, ano ‘yung pinakamalaking pagkakaiba noon bago mag-pandemya at ngayon?
Noong 2017, konti lang talaga ang mga rapper na umaangat. Meron na rin noon, pero kakaunti lang ‘yung nakakaabot talaga sa audience. Kami-kami lang sina Bugoy na Koykoy, Ex Battalion, Al James, Because, at ako. Pero ngayon, ang dami na talagang sikat.
Kasabay ko na rin ‘yung mga taga-Baryo Berde: sina DB, Marc Mamuric, mga 727 Clique, at Lexus. Idol ko ‘yung mga ‘yun. Noong panahon na ‘yun, uso pa talaga ang slam-an sa gig. Kahit hindi ako naka-line up sa gig, pumupunta ako kapag andun ‘yung tropa. Sobrang saya kasi e.
Paano nabuo ‘yung Young God Records?
Nagsimula ‘yun kay Hellmerry. May mga kanta siya pero hindi namin alam kung saan i-re-release. Dati, ‘yung channel na ginagamit namin, ang pangalan pa ay “Euthenesia,” doon naka-upload ‘yung mga una kong kanta. Pinalitan namin ng Young God Records. Naisip ko ‘yung pangalan mula sa Bad Boy Records — parang katangian ng tao: Bad Boy, Young God. Effective siya. Kapag dumadaan kami sa mga gig, tinatawag kami na “Young God.” Bagay rin kasi talaga ‘yung rap sa kabataan. Laro siya ng mga bata.
Sa tingin mo, ano ‘yung espesyal sa mga rapper mula Cavite? Pansin ko ang daming dumadayo doon lalo na noong buhay pa ang Ingay Likha.
Siguro ‘yung crowd at ‘yung vibe ng event. Lahat ng nanonood, halos artist sila na nag-ga-graffiti, nag-ra-rap, nag-bi-b-boy. Kahit sino pasahan mo ng mic, may ibabato. Kasi ang galing din, parang open siya sa lahat e, ‘tas parang event ng mga punk, mga ganyan. Sobrang DIY siya.
Dinadayo talaga ‘yun ng mga taga-Maynila at iba pa. Bukas siya para sa lahat na DIY lang, sa tapat ng bahay ni Tulala (spoken word artist from Cavite). Ngayon, wala na ‘yun. Kaya naghahanap na ulit ng bagong lugar ang mga rapper sa Cavite. Para sa’yo bilang rapper, bago at pagkatapos ng pandemya, ano ‘yung mga natutunan mo?
Noong bago pa ang pandemya, hindi ko pa talaga siniseryoso ‘yung trabaho ko. Sa time management pa lang, madalas akong malate sa gig. Minsan din, sa mga nagpa-pa-picture sa akin, nagiging suplado ako. Pero na-realize ko ang halaga ng trabaho ko noong dumating ang pandemya, biglang nawala ang gigs, nasa bahay lang ako. Doon ko naisip na kailangan ko nang seryosohin ‘to.
‘Yung rap at songwriting parang madali na sa akin gawin ‘yun e. Pero ang mahirap [ay] ‘yung ‘pag nasa likod na ng camera, kung paano ako magiging tatay sa anak ko, o kung paano ako iiwas sa mga dapat kong iwasan.
Malaking tulong din ang pandemya sa development ko. Noong mga panahong ‘yun, nagsimula akong mag-aral, magsulat ng chorus. Dati kasi, si Kuya Klumcee pa ang gumagawa ng chorus ko. Doon ko rin nahasa ang songwriting skills ko.
Sabihin na nating isa ‘yun sa lowest points ng buhay ko; walang trabaho, ang daming problema. Pero noong nagsimula na akong pumasok sa record label at pumirma ng kontrata, sobrang saya ko. Excited ako kasi alam ko kung anong pinagdaanan ko bago makarating dito.
Ngayon, speaking of hits, kung tatanungin mo ako kung anong paborito kong material, siguro ‘yung mga kanta sa EP mo noong 2022 na Basic, lalo na ‘yung “City Girl.” Pano nagsimula ‘yun?
Sinulat ko ‘yung kantang ‘yun bilang challenge sa sarili ko na parang gusto kong gumawa ng solid na track na ako rin ang kakanta ng chorus. Kaya noong may mga nakilala akong babae mula BGC, dinadala nila ako sa condo nila, nilulutuan pa nila ako ng pagkain sabi ko, “City girl ‘to a.” Iba talaga ‘yung galawan noon, lalo na pagkatapos ng pandemya. Masaya, may gigs na ulit, at unti-unting bumabalik ang sigla.
Father ka na! Congrats! Tinanong ko ‘to sa mga ibang rapper: ano ‘yung feeling na naging father na? Parang nagi-iiba ba ‘yung songwriting mo? Or mas naging clingy ka sa sa mga bagay?
Mas na-realize ko na kailangan ko i-improve ‘yung kung ano ako sa likod ng camera kasi ‘yung mga araw na kasama ko ang anak ko ‘pag wala akong trabaho. Kasi ‘yung rap at songwriting parang madali na sa akin gawin ‘yun e. Pero ang mahirap [ay] ‘yung ‘pag nasa likod na ng camera, kung paano ako magiging tatay sa anak ko o kung paano ako iiwas sa mga dapat kong iwasan, sa bisyo, mga ganon. Ayun din ‘yung mahirap, ‘yung araw-araw na laban ng buhay para sa akin.
May mga do’s and don’ts sa buhay e. Sobrang normal ‘yun na may mga bagay na you have to go through. Pero balik tayo sa rap game na sa ngayon kasi may kasabihan na may “old god” at “new god” sa rap. Sa tingin mo sa susunod na limang taon saan pupunta ‘yung rap?
Sa tingin ko, malayo pa ang mararating ng eksena. Maraming gutom na rapper ang maglalabas pa ng kanta na poppin’, at mag-e-evolve din ang tunog. Sobrang exciting isipin kung sino ‘yung susunod na sisikat, kasi sobrang random na ngayon ng mga nagiging hit. Hindi mo talaga ma-predict. Sobrang nakaka-excite rin ‘yung mga plano ko: may parating na EP. Kaya maraming salamat. Sobrang saya lang.
