Since the release of his debut album, Awkward, Ty has made a lightning transition from underground MC to become the mouthpiece of the UK hip hop scene. His latest album Upwards has earned critical acclaim across the board and his recent residency at London's Jazz Café proved a sell out success. His individual style, energetic approach and raw determination have got artists of all shapes and sizes queuing up to work with him.

Ty's Nigerian heritage is a prominent part of his personal and musical identity. 'One of the first to say I'm from the N.I.G', he says on Ha Ha, and makes an appearance on 2002's African Consciences album. He is keen to emphasise his britishness. Like so many Londoners, he is the result of sometimes conflicting cultures, that for him find expression in rhythm and rhyme. 'I'm a product of English culture, not just Nigerian, although the two are totally linked. The Nigerian part of me has given me the discipline I need to succeed, and my upbringing has allowed me to understand and enjoy the fact that I'm different.'

The outsider tag that haunted him as a child is now something he revels in and channels into his creativity, but this hasn't come easy. Fostered for a period, he grew up surrounded by the sounds and attitudes of Brixton, the breeding ground for many artists now at the core of black British music.

'I started playing around with music at about eight or nine but I'm no prodigy. I've always been interested in music production, but had a feeling for music more than anything else specific. From about the age of 12 I started writing things down, nothing as coherent as rhymes, just thoughts and a way of expressing all the family stuff I was going through.'

Ty is a self-professed vinyl addict. That important moment in every boy's life, the first record, came his way as the result of a killer performance at a breakdance party. 'It was called Break Machine, I forget the name of the artist, I got given it 'cause I could do all the moves in the competition, but my parents thought I was having a fit!'

His route to fame has been a bit of a rollercoaster. In between the early days of miming Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights into his sister's hairbrush, and winning best album in Gilles Peterson's All Winners poll, his career has dipped and dived a little. At times, he has had little choice but to sit back and watch others take off ahead of him, like fellow Dig Dada artist Rodney Manuva. 'When Roots did what he did, I learned from it, even though I'd been out longer than him, he came and just cleaned up although originally he was engineering for me. Now obviously we're both doing well. the comparisons between me and Rodney come from the way we conduct ourselves. We don't get caught up in turf wars and our attitudes aren't uptight or standoff-ish. But at the end of the day we come from different backgrounds. I'm Nigerian, he's West Indian, and that makes us very different people, making very different music.' Despite past tensions and healthy rivalry, Ty and roots are finally making tunes together, with the latter guesting on a revox of Oh You Want More? This must-have collaboration of hip hop legends also features a Bollywood-influenced remix, which has been doing the rounds in clubs and bars, complemented by a video featuring the pair, set on London's fashionable Brick Lane.

Ty and Roots wouldn't be where they are today without Big Dada's financial backing. While there are several black 'urban' British artists on the label, there's no denying its Oxbridge origins and the strength of its white middle-class audience. 'This is music. It's not a question of black or white, whoever appreciates it, I appreciate them, because this is what I do. I'm gonna have kids who have shoes on their feet, purely because there are people who appreciate what I do.' On this subject, cracks show a little in his good humoured rationale. The weight of his experiences have indelibly shaped his perception – there seems to be a disparity between what he wants to believe and what he actually thinks.

'There are certain cliques which are very insular, which control the distribution channels, and they have more power than the kids rapping on street corners because they've got the money and they want to keep it for themselves. Now, that's what's destroying music. If it wasn't for So Solid and the whole South London vibe, we would not see so many black kids making it now. But the reality of the situation is that black kids from housing estates in this country can't get on stage, and hip hop is suffering as a result.'

'There are youths from my estate who are out there rapping, but can't get booked and can't get on tour, 'cause people won't pay them attention and promote them unless they're connected to someone somebody knows. That's the only thing about that particular circuit that I think is killing hip hop.' This last suggestion seems far from his celebratory cry 'somebody told me hip hop is comin again...' He puffs out his chest and takes a breath, suddenly aware of having finished something of a tirade. 'Now, I don't want you to make me look like a big black Malcolm X brother', he pleads, 'I'm not just moaning 'cause I can't get on Jools Holland.'

The Jazz Café residency was a great step though. 'It was cool. It was a case of people wanting to hear what we do live, and it was packed. I feel like we've finally got people's attention. I come from a generation where, if a UK rapper was being interviewed people would just switch off their ears. Now people all over the world are listening and everybody is hungry for success.' He returns to his main theme again with a degree of wistfulness. 'It doesn't have to be about black and white anymore. It's simply about reaching out and feeling the incredible energy of the kids rapping on the streets, battling it out against each other. That's where hip hop is born and bred.'