Second Sermon (remix feat. Burna Boy)

The original "Second Sermon" announced Black Sherif as something genuinely rare — a voice so lived-in it sounds older than its owner, carrying the weight of a whole neighborhood's grief and hunger. The remix with Burna Boy doesn't dilute that; it expands it into a conversation between two generations of African street poetry. The production is skeletal but emotionally enormous — minor-key strings, a drum pattern that leans into Ghanaian drill without surrendering to it, and a low atmospheric hum that feels like rain on a corrugated roof. Black Sherif's delivery is raw and sermon-like, each line landing with the cadence of someone testifying rather than performing. Burna Boy's entrance brings a different energy — looser, more swaggering, the elder affirming the younger without overshadowing him. Together they map a specific experience of West African urban youth: ambition forged in scarcity, faith built alongside survival, the street as both prison and classroom. Listening to this feels like watching two people who understand something most people don't — about what it costs to come from where they came from and still be standing. This is the song you play when you need to remember why you started, or when the distance between where you are and where you want to be feels unbearable.