Chipmunk: 'I want to be called a genius'

Click here for video

It is a warm Saturday afternoon in Jamaica and I am in a large beach-fronted villa with Chipmunk and 20 bikini-clad, oiled beauty queens. The British grime star is filming a music video and the models are gathered in a circle, their heads bowed in prayer. "We're praying the Lord watches over us on the shoot," one model explains, "and that we make it to the finals of Miss Jamaica." Chipmunk, 6ft tall and dressed in a plain black vest and blue jeans, paces around the room, readying himself for his close-up.

It is two years since Chipmunk, then still studying for his A-levels, released his debut album, I Am Chipmunk, and established himself as one of Britain's most talented grime stars. On his follow-up, Transition, released next week, the rapper makes an audacious bid for global stardom. "Champion", his collaboration with R&B star Chris Brown (the man whose violent assault on his then girlfriend Rihanna led him to being sentenced to five years' probation), has already been a huge hit. "Every Gyal" – the video of which is being filmed right now – sees Chipmunk working with controversial Jamaican dancehall singer Mavado, who is in another part of the villa surrounded by a large entourage rolling gigantic joints. The storyline of the video is that Chipmunk and Mavado, who wears two diamond-encrusted watches, are hanging out, partying with girls and messing about on jet skis. If we are living in a new age of austerity, no one told these guys.

While the directors prepare their next shot, Chipmunk and I retreat to his dressing room. He is 20 and looks it; with large eyes and babyish features, he would be more convincing in a boyband than as a bad-boy rapper. But he isn't lacking in confidence. "I didn't think I would be gifted enough to make an album like this until I was 23," he says. "I want whoever buys this record to think I'm a genius. I want my lyrics to touch you like poetry."

Beneath the brashness, however, Chipmunk reveals himself to be a thoughtful, articulate commentator on his life, and the lyrics on Transition are often reflective. "Being successful, that's a gift and a curse," he raps on the title track, "being paid and being broke – I know what's worse."

The video for "Chip Diddy Chip", his first hit single, cost £10,000 and was filmed at his old school in Tottenham; the video for "Every Gyal" is being shot in Jamaica with two jet skis and a helicopter. But Chipmunk denies he has strayed from his roots. "It's impossible to forget where I came from. I don't live in the area I grew up in any more but when I'm back there cars beep, preachers stop me, teachers stop me, gangsters stop me, everyone stops me and is proud of what I have done. I'm an asset to my community now and that is bigger than my career to me."

Chipmunk's rise is a hip-hop fairytale. He was born Jahmaal Noel Fyffe to Jamaican parents, who later separated, and grew up in a tough housing estate in Tottenham, north London. He was nicknamed Chipmunk on account of being "short and chubby, with big teeth", by a friend who later died in a stabbing. Listening to Dizzee Rascal on pirate radio stations inspired him to start rapping and by 13 he was producing his own CDs. "Me and my friend would go to a studio in Finsbury Park you could hire for £20 an hour," he recalls. "I'd spit out three or four tracks and we'd burn up 100 blank CDs and use my mum's printer to make the covers. Then we'd hit the record shops and try to sell them."

He has a reputation as one of the most lyrically dexterous of British rappers, but his love of words did not come from books. "I hate reading," he tells me. "As a kid, reading was a penalty for when I was bad. I got my diction from good rappers."

What motivated him to be so industrious? "There is a drive that hits young black boys from my social background at the age of 11 to 14, fuelled by the need for money," he explains. "The cars, the girls, the designer clothes: you see these things in your neighbourhood and you want them and you have to get it yourself. Some people get it by crime; others pick a talent and go for it."

Chipmunk went for it and eventually caught the attention of Wiley, the godfather of grime, who had brought Dizzee Rascal and Tinchy Stryder to the mainstream. With Wiley's help, Chipmunk secured a record deal with Sony, which led to the debut album and the hit singles. But that was three years ago, and in today's musical landscape three years is an age. "In music, people gravitate to what is new," Chipmunk says, "but I'm not new any more. If you can't reinvent yourself, you are fucked."

Reinventing Chipmunk from cheeky grime star to global celebrity is the barely hidden aim of Transition. It is a slickly produced album with a US-friendly R&B sound, shorn of the rapid percussive beats and harsh rapping that characterise grime. Such a reinvention carries risks. Is there a danger that by trying to appeal to an international audience he could lose his distinctiveness? "Global appeal is about representing your culture," he replies, sounding more like an advertising executive than a hip-hop star. "I am the marketing source and it is my job to make the music acceptable in other territories."

Chipmunk is facing criticisms that he is changing in search of greater commercial success. When I asked him if he felt he had left grime behind, he started referring to himself in the third person. "Chipmunk is a musician who does what the hell he wants," he replies testily. "If I want to do a pop song, or a reggae song, I will do it."

There is a knock on the door – Chipmunk is needed on set. It must be disorientating, I say before he leaves, to have tasted great success at such a young age. "I appreciate every moment of what I have," he says. "I know there is a lifespan for what I do. I am never going to be spoken of as a has-been: the second I'm not current in one profession, I am going to hop into another. I don't want people saying Chipmunk was dope when he was in his prime." He stands up and shakes my hand. As Chipmunk heads back out to join the models, I notice the tattoos inked into his arms; on one the word "achieve" and on the other "believe".