“He likes a couple of eggs in the morning, every morning,” says Joss Meek, Central Cee’s UK publicist, as we near the 45th minute waiting for the star to arrive. It’s 11:45 a.m. at the shoot location in North London, and I’ve been told twice: “Sorry, JP. He’s on his way.” But Central Cee being over an hour late to his Complex cover shoot—his first solo cover for a U.S. publication—is no bother to me: I’m happily observing the fuss being made around him before he even set foot in the building. Fuss that is entirely deserved—the rapper is one of the biggest artists in the world right now, and he should be treated as such.

It is now 12:20 p.m., on the dot. I’m stood at the side of the studio, watching on as the photographer and his team put the finishing touches to the set when, from the corner of my eye, I see Cench quietly creep in through the side entrance—alone, not with his 20-strong crew that we’re used to seeing him with. He slips into the green room where his two publicists, two bodyguards, a makeup artist, two personal assistants, a stylist and her two assistants (who had been steam-ironing looks for a straight hour) have been making sure things are perfectly in place for him. Five minutes later, I’m called in. We dap each other up and share the unspoken London Boy nod. “Good to finally meet you, bro,” he says, and the feeling’s mutual. Having followed his rise since 2020’s “Day in the Life,” his ascent to international rap star always seemed inevitable: sharp style, a sound both gritty and polished—the perfect package for any major label.

With his manager, the independent-minded go-getter Bello, avidly supporting the cause, Cench went straight to work, chipping away at the UK scene with a drill sound and style that was influenced by two of his younger brothers (he’s the eldest of four). Before that, in the late 2010s, he was dropping Auto-Tuned loosies and boom-bap freestyles. Hanging around his siblings was a real eye-opener; Cench vividly remembers one of his brothers rapping in drill font around him constantly, which later inspired him to do the same. Soon enough, the man-bun disappeared, as did the ripped jeans—in came the ski-masks, Nike Techs and Air Max 95s. “I’m looking at my brothers and thinking: “Fuck! Am I weird? They’re normal—they’re just hood—and I’m there just doing the most. But I’ve always done that; I don’t like to be the same as everybody else. But then I’m with my brothers and I’m feeling out of place with how I’m dressing and stuff. So I said, ‘I’m sick of this standing-out ting. Let me dumb it down a bit.’” That was then, but his now-elevated streetwear style has gone on to inspire millions—Cench is currently signed as a priority artist with Nike, and was recently announced as the Global Creative Director for BAPE® x SYNA World.

Born Oakley Neil Caesar-Su in Ladbroke Grove to an English mother and a Chinese-Guyanese father, and raised in the Shepherd’s Bush area nearby, the 27-year-old still can’t believe his life right now: “It’s only really starting to sink in now, I’ll be honest. I’ve been moving so fast for so long that I haven’t had time to take it all in.” And the list of milestones is long: highest-charting UK rap album ever on Billboard’s Hot 100 with Can’t Rush Greatness; global platinum hits like “Doja” and “Sprinter”; a sold-out worldwide tour; a major-label deal with Columbia Records; collabs with Drake, J. Cole, 21 Savage; and, if all goes according to plan, superstardom in the U.S.

We’re sitting down in the make-up room, boxed within the green room, and Cench is rolling up while politely turning down food that’s being brought in. “I’m alright, you know; I don’t feel like eating anything right now,” he says when offered scrambled eggs and avocado. “What about your coffee?” someone asks. “Nah, I’m good.” From the first 10 minutes of being around him, it was clear to me as the sky was blue that morning that Cench is a simple, low-key character, not one concerned with the fuss that was happening before and during his visit. Donning a yellow Dover Street Market tee, a bright-knit bucket hat, joggers, and a pair of oversized slippers, he’s in #cozy mode—no diamonds in sight, but the rose-gold AP is shining—as he preps for the long shoot day ahead.

The tailor, who had been stitching away just outside the green room, has his rap playlist echoing through the studio—a bit of Thugger here, a bit of Gunna there—before Cench decides to switch up the mood, handing his phone to Joss and asking her to put on his playlist instead. To my surprise, it consists of mostly house music (a raver after my own heart). In between shots, he’s shoulder-rolling to beats from Jamie Jones, Black Coffee, ANOTR—tunes that have soundtracked some of his favorite moments in recent history: being young, wild, and free in Ibiza. “I enjoyed it a lot,” he says of his time there this summer. “I didn’t have my usual security with me; I just went out as a normal person. We weren’t stars there. We got noticed a bit, but not too much. Ibiza is my spot.”

Following performances at Wireless Festival alongside Drake and Big Smoke Festival alongside Skepta, Central Cee is set to hit the ComplexCon stage in Las Vegas this October, where he’ll also unveil three exclusive brand collaborations. With plans to retire at age 30—just three years from now—Cench has been pushing his business mindset into overdrive, working closely with his small but inventive team. Still, the star-boy understands one thing clearly: This journey is a marathon, not a sprint.

Shoot days are always fun, right? How do you prepare for a day like this? Is there a certain zone you try to get yourself into, knowing that you’ve got a long day ahead of talking and taking photos? Or, do you just show up and do your job like it’s a 9-5?

No preparation, you know. I just get to it!

This interview is for your Complex U.S. cover story, and so a lot of the people reading this will likely know you from your mega-hit, “Doja”, onwards. But if you’re from the UK and you’re tapped into the music scene here, you’ll know that Central Cee’s rise to superstardom has been a gradual journey. I want to talk about your Link Up TV freestyle from 2015. You look and sound completely different today than how you did back then, but that origin story is important. Take us back to that time: Who was Central Cee at 17 versus Central Cee at 27?

Them times there, I was mad excited. I wanted to rap, for real. There’s even a lyric in that freestyle where I say something about the MOBO [Music of Black Origin] Awards—I wanted to get one of those awards. When you listen to my old stuff, the content’s basically the same as it is now. If you listen to what I’m rapping about, it’s about the things I’m going through in life; it’s just delivered a bit differently now. But, there is one difference in the content: my outlook or my energy towards the industry side of things. I was probably more excited about accolades, awards and stuff like that, but by the time I made “Day in the Life,” I didn’t care about that anymore. I was more focused on the business, I guess.

The whole vibe of that freestyle was super West London; you guys always had a different style compared to, say, South London or North London. You could just tell you were from West, and that’s no bad thing—you were still authentic with it. But how would you say your style, both musically and in the way that you present yourself to the world, has changed since then? What made you go from boom-bap and Auto-Tune rap to the more harder drill sound?

I remember one of my little brothers used to link me—he was born in the mid-2000s, so he’s a lot younger than me. He used to come around and rap in front of me, and was sounding better than me. It made me think, “Why am I not rapping like that?” I felt inspired. But I remember thinking for the longest—kinda on this, like, old-head ting—“I do not rate drill.” Whatever it was that I was listening to at the time, it definitely wasn’t drill. Drill wasn’t cool to me back then. It didn’t seem fun. I wasn’t rating it. But, I was ignorant to it. It was like: I know people, I know bad boys—I know where this is coming from—but the music felt so one-sided. Like, where’s the real emotion? But I wasn’t listening to it enough to get the full picture. Then I started chilling with my brothers a bit more. I started playing some more shit. I started hearing some songs that were hard and some artists who were hard. And then I’m hearing my brothers do it, my brothers’ bredren do it, and I’m thinking: “This is actually good.”

It was my brothers who really put me on. I’m lucky to have younger brothers that keep me hip to everything; even now, they show me all the new stuff. So that’s where I kinda made the switch: through my brothers. It wasn’t a conscious decision—I was just naturally around it. I’ve made so many different types of music, and “Day in the Life” was just one type of instrumental that I chose on YouTube. I put in ‘UK drill type beat’ and that was it! That was the first time I made a drill song.

Staying on West London for a second, you were born in Ladbroke Grove and raised in Shepherd’s Bush—home to Global Sports, the beloved sneaker store; a market featuring some of the best fake designer garms in the city; and a strong mixing pot of cultures. Do you miss being able to go down the local market or hang out with friends on the estate? While getting out of the concrete jungle was always the main aim—especially from environments that we’ve come from—there must be parts of your old life that you miss?

I do miss it: being normal, being able to chill on the ends … being able to chill! You could leave your house every day and know where everyone is. You could go to the block, go to the park, and everyone’s there. You didn’t have to call and say, “Yo, link me at this spot,” because they’re already there. Now, every time I want to do something normal or something social, I’ve got to organize it like: “Yo, bro, let me get you a car. Come link me here.” And then I’ve got to book this and do that. It takes a lot more organization now. I definitely miss the times you could just leave your house and no one needs to tell anyone where they were because you already knew.

You’ve been in the spotlight for a minute now, but that must have taken a lot of getting used to—having to change the way you move through the world.

It’s only really starting to sink in now, I’ll be honest. I’ve been moving so fast for so long that I haven’t had time to take it all in. I did start to feel a bit this summer, but I like working. I’ve only just come off tour, only had one week off. I dunno if I’m accustomed to just non-stop working now … even if I wanted to chill and be normal, I can’t. I don’t have the time to.

How was the tour?

Yeah, it was good. I enjoyed it. But I was a bit anxious about it.

Anxious in what way?

Two ways: musically and personally. I didn’t know if the shows would look good, sound good, turn out good, if they’d get sold out. I didn’t know. But they did, so that’s what I'm grateful for. And then I was anxious, personally, because it’s a lot. If I’ve got certain things going on in my personal life … my family, I’ve got anxiety around my family being safe. My friends as well. There’s a lot of anxiety around being on the road and not being able to help them, or being on the road and not helping myself. It could deteriorate your mental state a little bit. But we did it.

You had a lot of your friends with you, right? It must feel good to be in a position to bring them out with you on tour to experience all these new things.

They’ve been with me from the jump. The first-ever show, when nothing was guaranteed—not knowing if this thing would go so far—they were with me. Every show could’ve been my last show, but we’re here now. My manager was probably looking at me funny them times there, like: “Why are you spending so much money bringing all these people around when you ain’t even shaking like that?” I sacrificed a lot of money for these experiences for them, but it’s all been worth it. I had about 30 man with me on my world tour, and everyone had a role to play. Even if it was to make man laugh for one day out the whole week, that’s something, innit? It’s a whole team effort to keep somebody’s spirits up, and I appreciated having them out there with me. It’s not easy for any of us because we’re all away from home and our families. Saying that, though, when I went on the Drake tour, I went alone. One man up! Which was drastic coming from going to a show with 30 man—minimum would be, like, 15 man. And I didn’t mind it. Maybe one day it’ll be easier, simpler.

You took UK drill to places no other UK rapper has been able to take it, similar to what the late Pop Smoke did Stateside: you made it mainstream without losing its authentically raw essence. You said in an interview with Complex UK in 2021 that, down the line, you didn’t want to be boxed in as a drill rapper. Does that still stand, even though most of your biggest hits have been either straight drill or heavily influenced by it?

Whatever people want to call me, I don’t mind. To me, I’m just a rapper. A rapper talking on beat, talking on 140BPM. Drill fans don’t like hearing other people call me a drill rapper because the content isn’t really that. It’s not drill content.

But your flow, to me, is drill. You could spit on a grime or trap beat, for example, and it would still have that drill element.

You reckon? Yeah, I hear you on that. But I still feel like I'm not drill in the content, so I do get when people say that I’m not drill. Drill has kinda got to be about drilling.

One thing I rated about you from the very beginning—from the “Day in the Life” era when things were really popping off—was how you weren’t afraid to give props to the artists that helped lay the foundations for you to flourish today, like Skepta, Jme and Giggs. You’ve paid respects where it’s due many times over, and that’s been great to see because not every hot new rapper does that, probably in fear that they’ll look like a beg or something. How did it feel to enter the scene and receive the same love back from the elder statesmen?

I respect them a lot. It always means a lot to me when they show me love. Skepta showed me love before “Day in the Life” even came out. He was tapped in from early. These man are the GOATs.

Just like the UK elders have accepted you into the fold, globally rated rappers like Drake, J. Cole and 21 Savage seem to really respect what you bring to rap’s table. How does it feel to be locked in with those guys, and have any of them given you any words of advice?

I got some words of advice only recently, but I won’t say what or who from because I haven’t put it into play yet. I don’t wanna say it and then you’ve clocked what I’m doing [laughs], but I will definitely. I’ve taken some advice and I’m gonna try and take it into the studio; we’ll see. But yeah, big respect to them man.

British rap stars like Dizzee Rascal, Chip, and Stormzy have all tried to crack the States. And while they did have the odd moment here and there, they never truly broke through like you have done. The closest would be Skepta. Slick Rick, MF DOOM and Monie Love were born in the UK, but their approach was more American so it’s a bit different with them. Did you ever think you’d end up becoming the golden child?

Probably when everything’s said and done, everything will resonate. For three, nearly four years running, nothing resonated, and then I sat down for maybe one month doing nothing in my house, and then everything clicked. I was like, “Shit! I actually did something.” But that’s after years of jugging and actually being lit, successfully.

Do you ever get worried there will be a time where you’re not as lit?

Not worried, but it’s inevitable. I do think about it. I know it’ll eventually happen. But it’s inevitable, so what can you do? I think about it strategically, though, like: How are we gonna maneuver and what’s the exit plan? I just want to make it as graceful as possible when that time comes.

At what age do you think you’ll stop rapping?

I’ve said 30 ...

Like, in three years’ time, 30? [Laughs.][Laughs.] Yeah. I said it on the “Billion Streams Freestyle.” I flirted with the idea, then I said it in a song and my manager was like, “You’re gonna regret saying that. When you’re rapping over 30, that bar is gonna sound mad!” I said, “Nah. I won’t be rapping at 30.” Sometimes, though, I’m in two minds ... you know who I respect a lot? Wiz Khalifa. He’s still active now. I remember watching his vlogs when YouTube first came out; Soulja Boy times. Wiz had a peak and he’s not at his peak now, but he’s still working the exact same way. He’s got a cool fanbase that properly rocks with him, and it still looks fun—it looks like he’s still enjoying it. When I watch him, it makes me think, “I don’t mind keeping it going.” But right now, I’m sticking to it: At 30, I believe I could be out the game. I’d stay in the business side of things, but actively performing and competing, I’d rather not.

Do you look at rap as a sport?

No, but as I’ve just said it—it blatantly is. I was gonna say actively making music, but that’s not what I even do. Even now, I’m active in the game but I don’t actively make music. I never make music. I might make music 7% of the year… Alright, maybe 14% [laughs]. I go to the studio when my friends are recording and I’m just chilling. I don’t really rap, but I’m doing something, aren’t I? So it must be competing. My mind is always on, thinking: “What am I doing? What am I dropping?” I guess it’s half competing, but it’s not necessarily with other people—it’s with myself.

Your debut album, Can’t Rush Greatness, is still doing the rounds. But looking at everything now, is there anything you’d do differently with your second album—either musically or with the rollout?

Probably make it better. Make the music better. I think it’s good, but …

—you could’ve pushed yourself more?

Yeah, but I purposely didn’t. Even with Wild West, I held myself back from saying too much. I’m young in the game, and I look young—maybe I am young to some people—so I didn’t feel the need to start speaking wisely or anything; I just kept it kinda cool. On this album, I started tapping into my personal story a bit more, but still not so much—I could have gone madder. Then, with the beats, I did the exact same blueprint as the mixtapes: I found the beats on my phone. I never did one session with a producer. If anything, I might have had a bit more musical input on Wild West. I sat with more producers when I made that project. We would just play sounds, and I’d be like, “Yeah, cool. Do that with this, put them drums with this.” But with CRG, I didn’t do any of that. I just listened to beats and rapped—very amateur. I didn’t feel the need to do anything more because people liked what they’d heard, and people were still finding out about man. It’s weird because I'd be thinking, “It’s time to switch it up. Some people are getting bored.” And then I’d drop something … I remember, just before “Sprinter,” I was gonna switch up the whole ting—-no 140BPM, no drill. And then I dropped “Sprinter” with Dave and …

—people wanted more of it.

Yeah. Some people were just finding out about me from that, so I’m like, “Fuck! I’ve got to carry that on.” It’s hard because some people have been listening to me for five years, and some people have just found out about me today. That’s probably part of the competing element: having to keep everyone satisfied, to some extent. The next album, maybe I can experiment more and be more involved in the production of it. There’s no concept to CRG. It’s just me: contradictive, fluctuating in mood. There’s no solid concept. It’s all the same ... I always rap the same. Whatever beat I’m on, I say the same shit all the time.

You’re downplaying yourself there, my brother. I think there is a cohesiveness to Can’t Rush Greatness—you’re telling your personal story throughout this album, and it’s a compelling listen. It doesn’t all sound the same.

I appreciate that. It’s actually just my story. The same story. But sometimes, I might give you a darker mood, or I might talk about being more of a lover boy, and then I might be more scandalous. So yeah, I hear you. It doesn’t all sound the same.

You’re a busy guy—always on the move—so I’m sure you value any downtime you can get. How does Central Cee recharge his social battery? Is it books? Is it yoga? Is it movies? What does relaxation time look like for you?

I’m tryna find out now, only just now. I go to the gym and I take my time in the gym. Then maybe I’d sit in the spa, but even that, I haven’t been enjoying that recently.

For your sanity alone, you should probably find that thing that chills you out. And soon.

Definitely … I did something that kinda felt like that this year: We went to Ibiza for four days, and I felt properly free there. It was cool. In my downtime, it would be great to be able to do some things that feel normal. Ibiza felt normal to me—I enjoyed it a lot. I didn’t have my usual security with me; I just went out as a normal person. We weren’t stars there. We got noticed a bit, but not too much. Ibiza is my spot.

You’re set to perform at ComplexCon in Las Vegas this October—have you been to Vegas before? Are you a gambling man, a casino-goer?

I’ve been to Vegas before, yeah. I like the vibe there; it’s cool. Never gambled, though.

ComplexCon is a big outing for a British artist—are you nervous about hitting that stage?
I don’t really get nervous when it comes to shows. I was saying it just yesterday to my friend in the car: I never look at what I’m doing. If I know I’m performing today, for example, I don’t know where it is, the set time, how many people will be there—nothing. It’s a good thing and a bad thing, I guess. Good, because I don’t get nervous but probably sometimes, it’s bigger than I expect; but I still don’t get nervous about hitting any stage. With ComplexCon, I watched Travis [Scott] perform last year, and I’m just excited to put on a great show of my own. We’re still putting the pieces together, but it’s gonna be one to remember.

The love they have for you out in the States is real, definitely more than I’ve seen for any other UK artist. Why do you think they’ve warmed to you so much over there?

I’m not sure, maybe the branding in general. I remember looking at the ‘gram, before I even picked up any motion with my career in the UK, just scrolling through and looking at all the rappers who were popping at the time. I was looking at the interaction and how they move, and I remember looking at some videos of them and thinking, “I’m aware of the same shit you’re aware of in terms of fashion. I’m ahead of you, if anything.” I was like, “If I ever get the eyes on me, it’s gonna be game, set and match.” I just knew I had to get people’s interest and keep them interested, from my music to my fashion and branding.

On the subject of branding, SYNA World is the name of your streetwear brand, and you teamed up with Nike last year for an apparel and Air Max 95 drop. How did your connection with Nike initially come about, and what was it liking working on this specific capsule with them?

The Nike thing, I say it in “Limitless”, I think: something about a full circle. I remember writing a list—a blueprint, basically—and this was before “Day in the Life,” so no motion, no guarantee that I’ll even become successful. But I remember I wrote in this blueprint to just wear Nike, like checks over stripes kinda thing, and I stuck by that. Every poster you saw, every video you saw, I pushed the credible Nike shoes and their new drops. It’s hard to explain why it was such a key thing for man to do, but we did that for ages and then, naturally, we just built a relationship with them. But I premeditated it from way back, before anything popped off for me.

You performed in an exclusive SYNA x Nike tracksuit at Wireless earlier this year. Will there be another SYNA x Nike drop coming soon, then?

Yeah, there will be. I think I wore two different colors at Wireless when Drake brought me out. Only one of them will get a full release, but that’s definitely happening.

What do you want to do with your Nike partnership? Obviously, when you get to do your own version of a sneaker, that’s always cool, but could you see yourself doing a Jordan and designing your own silhouettes? Is that a dream of yours, or not really?

Nah, not really. Not new shoes. I’m a bit fussy with my shoes. Nowadays, it’s changing a bit, but I’m not really with the new shoes. I like to work with originals.

You’re also an ambassador for G-SHOCK—what’s it been like working with them and what was it like flying out to Japan to meet the CEO?

That was a sick experience. I did work experience at a GSK factory one time, and that’s a company I wasn’t interested in too tough, but being in such a big building, you can feel the affluence and it’s inspiring. When I went to meet the CEO of G-SHOCK in Japan, I felt the same inspiring feeling. It’s a massive building, and being able to meet the people there and for them to actually be good people, it was super-cool. They were showing us all mad love, love I didn’t even expect to get. So that was cool, doing the shoot with them was cool. They did some kind of backdrop with loads of G-SHOCKs. They had three collectors, I think, who brought in their collections, G-SHOCKs I’d never even seen before. You see me? I’m a proper consumer. I see everything. I’m on StockX regularly, so I see every fuckin’ G-SHOCK that’s on the internet [laughs]. I’ve seen every Air Max 95 that’s been made, on the internet. But these lot were real collectors, with one-of-ones. It was an interesting shoot and a great trip.

Bape just announced you as their Global Creative Director of the BAPE® x SYNA World capsule collection, which will launch in November. This is big! The collaboration is also in partnership with Spotify. As someone who’s been rocking Bape organically for a good while now, this link-up makes a lot of sense.

It’s another sick collab for man. I’m actually lucky because all these collabs, they mean something to me. I’m blessed to be able to collab with Bape. I’ve been wearing Bape! I think, subconsciously, anything that I buy … basically, I pay for shit. I buy shit all the time. I’m very decisive of whatever I like, about what I’m wearing. If I’m wearing it, I’m thinking, “Maybe they see it or something,” and then one thing leads to another. It’s just like music: I’ll show somebody I’m a fan of them, they can tell I’m a fan of them and then we end up collaborating naturally. So, these are all brands that I’m an actual fan of and I’ll pay my own money for. And I’ve paid my own money when I never had much money.

When it comes to the creative side of Central Cee, the branding side of things, is it just you and your moodboard or do you have a team that helps put concepts together?

I’m hands-on with everything, but we might outsource some creative here and there—it could be man’s friend, my brother even. One of our guys, Rackin, he put some good ideas in front of us recently. I’m lucky to have creative friends and a manager who can input creatively, too. I’m only gonna get more creative as time goes on. I’m so busy right now and, in my head, I feel like there’s a lot going on. But when my time frees up a bit, I’ll be able to do a lot more.

Has traveling outside of the UK changed your taste at all—musically, or in the way that you dress?

I don’t think so. Before I even traveled anywhere, before I made a penny off music, I’m looking at people on the internet who seemed to be influential but they can’t influence me. I already know what they’re doing, and I already know that I can influence them, if anything. Maybe I’m on the internet too much, and I haven’t for a long time but I’ve watched a lot of documentaries about Ralph Lauren, millions of things about Bape. I feel like I’m kinda, without even traveling, cultured. I’m traveling, but there’s only so many minutes I spend in a country before I’m off to the next show. It’s more through the phone that I gain this kind of knowledge. I’ve been had it, so I don’t feel like traveling has influenced me. That’s me being honest.

You’re working with the artist Daniel Arsham on your Complex cover. Are you super into art? Is it a growing interest?

I made some art before, with Slawn, and we sold it. I think Kim Kardashian owns it. I like art. I don’t really know too much about monetizing off of it, but I’m definitely into it. I feel like a lot of people’s art is the same, though. Again, it’s like music; I’m not really a big music consumer because it’s rare that man finds something super original. It’s saturated, and I can imagine the art world is similar. I see a lot of the same shit—I haven’t been to enough rich people’s houses to see their walls—but yeah, I rate Daniel Arsham’s work highly.

Is there anything you want to do, creatively, that people probably wouldn’t expect?

I’d love to learn how to fly a plane. I like flying private. I don’t necessarily like flying all the time, but private makes it a bit easier. I don’t mind being on the plane. I’ve done the long flights ... I don’t relate to people who complain about long flights because I don’t mind them—you can sleep or be productive the whole entire flight. I don’t know about buying a plane, but I deffo want my license.

Captain C! Makes sense [laughs]. What’s the end goal for you, man? What are you doing all of this for?

The end goal would be for everybody around me to be safe and happy. It’s a bonus if I can be happy on top of that as well. Maybe it’s just that: to be happy, because I’ve already hit my main goal, which was to get out of the ends and stay alive.

CONTRIBUTORS

Cover Star:
CENTRAL CEE

Cover Artwork:
DANIEL ARSHAM

Photographer:
JAMIE SHIPTON-MOURN

Styling:
NAYAAB TANIA DIR c/o COMPLEX

Groomer:
NICOLA SVENSEN

DOP
BLUE LEYBOURNE

PRODUCTION
STICKER STUDIOS