%20WHITE.png)
IKP Turns Survival Into Power on Defiant New Single “Kill Or B Killed”
For Afrofuturistic hip-hop artist IKP, music has never been solely about entertainment. It's a vehicle for survival, cultural expression, and confronting uncomfortable truths. Their latest single, “Kill Or B Killed,” brings that philosophy into focus, delivering a fiercely personal statement rooted in resilience, identity, and the determination to reclaim one's narrative.
A first-generation Honduran-American of Garifuna descent, IKP approaches hip-hop through a perspective shaped by both cultural heritage and lived experience. Drawing inspiration from influential artists including Nas, Lauryn Hill, Missy Elliott, and Lupe Fiasco, IKP bridges the lyrical foundations of classic East Coast hip-hop with an experimental, forward-thinking artistic vision.
Behind the music is an extraordinary personal history. A United States Marine Corps wartime veteran, IKP has navigated homelessness, military sexual trauma, and domestic violence. Rather than letting those experiences define their limitations, they've turned them into creative motivation and a commitment to advocating for marginalized communities.
“Kill Or B Killed” represents another milestone in that journey.
The single concludes a larger creative undertaking connected to IKP's Mic Check Series, a stripped-back performance concept developed from freestyle sessions recorded in 2024. Inspired by platforms such as COLORS, the accompanying video favors simplicity over spectacle, using a single-scene presentation and on-screen lyrics to direct attention toward the performance itself.
Beyond the release, IKP continues developing their FLOE STATE lifestyle brand while exploring music history and pop culture through their drag persona, NÜNYYA.BIZZ.
Ultimately, “Kill Or B Killed” reinforces IKP's larger artistic mission: using hip-hop to challenge expectations, amplify overlooked perspectives, and turn difficult experiences into something meaningful.
“Kill Or B Killed” carries a title that immediately suggests survival and confrontation. What does that phrase mean to you personally, and how does it reflect the experiences that shaped this record?
This record is pivotal. It's really a street sermon wrapped in soul. What's really happening is that I'm breaking down certain ways identities are vilified and building a platform with it to show how, yes words can degrade, but they can also be redirected back against oppressors. Often those oppressors can inhabit the same world as those they oppress. They may be no different than you. You walk the same streets. Same hallways.
Faced with the same obstacles. Following everything you've been taught as if there's a cheat code to escape the turmoil you find yourself in. There is none, spoiler alert. So someone's brand of oppression holds no weight. They're just angry at the rat race. In fact, what is thought to be a liability today can really be an asset to your personal power tomorrow.
"Ultra Black don't crack; they tried to curse". It's almost like when you finally see the Wiz is just Richard Pryor behind a curtain. The matrix is broken. The facade is gone. You survived the trap. You can live to tell. You can be the python snatching up the rats inside the walls or in the ceiling.
Your music draws from hip-hop's Golden Age while embracing Afrofuturism and experimental influences. How do you balance honoring the artists who inspired you with creating something that feels entirely your own?
Simply just adhering to the way the culture shaped those artists is how I honor those that inspire me. There was a time when artists worked extremely hard to stand out on their records in a way that would win the crowd. It was do or die. Nobody wanted to sound like the artist they shared the record with - or sound like what was already done. The pride was in separating yourself and leaving an indelible impression on those who listened and witnessed. My favorite artists leaned into what was unique about them; whatever their presence supplied. That's what I go for when I make a song. I find my own pocket. I find my own tone and cadence. I try to find another way to say what I really mean in a way that builds on what my influences have done.
Your Mic Check Series removes elaborate production and places the spotlight directly on your words and performance. What has that stripped-back format taught you about your artistry, and what do you hope listeners notice when there are fewer distractions?
I grew up in a time where the visual was totally instrumental to the world-building for an artist. Busta Rhymes & Janet Jackson's standout video for their 1999 single "What’s It Gonna Be" was truly one-of-a-kind in the fact that no one's done anything like it before it and since. It's one of the best videos of the music video era. The lore of that clip, from the making of, to the way the set design, CGI, and wardrobe was done, to the star power and price tag, was all part of the story for the single. If you take away all that, you still have an impressive song. It had enough magic to get some people to decide the $2 million price tag for the video was worth it. It's one of the songs that taught me how to rap in double time. A song should move you if you strip down all the bells and whistles you put on it. That's the heart of songwriting. I hope people get into the story I'm telling when that's all they have to focus on.
You've spoken openly about transforming difficult life experiences into creative expression. How do you decide which parts of your personal story belong in your music, and where do you draw the line between vulnerability and protecting your own peace?
The music I make is survival music. It's how I made sense of the chaotic and painful world I found myself enduring. So it is not really about deciding what belongs and what does. I could write about everything if there's a fire piece of music I hear and something that my soul needs to get out. And sometimes the songwriting makes it to wax. Sometimes it just stays in the pages of the notebooks and diaries where it exists. They can remain archived. Only when I decide there's something to offer and that the vision can expand before the song goes to the level of full commitment for a release. And so much can happen in between those stages that changes the outcome.
Between your music, FLOE STATE, advocacy, and your drag persona NÜNYYA.BIZZ, you're building something that extends far beyond a traditional music career. What connects these different creative identities, and what kind of cultural impact are you ultimately working toward?
It's the same soul. The same identity. The same mind. The same heart that asks, "why can't this exist?" It's that if I build a world where this works, others can find their path the same way. It's permission to hold all the multitudes you bring to the table, own them, and let them flourish. This can be a version of anyone's freedom.
