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The world was never meant to shrink for 17-year-old Palestinian rapper MC Abdul.
Though he grew up in a world that, to others, always seemed like it would only shrink and become smaller, a world where violence and war shrank dreams, it was the complete opposite for him. He chose to expand his world far beyond it, but still carry Gaza with him.
Born in Gaza in 2008, and part of a new generation that grew up with social media, Abdul’s story could not simply be summarised as “a young Palestinian rapper who blew up on social media after being inspired by Eminem.”
While it is true that he grew up being inspired by American rappers like Eminem, Tupac Shakur, and Jay-Z, the reality is that his story alone, even at this early stage of his career, outgrows them. His story is not simply about his name or his persona as a rapper, nor is it about how many hits he has made or charts he has topped, but about a homeland and a cause that live beyond him.
A homeland whose music existed long before the noise of violence. Long before resistance songs carried Palestine across the world, such as Hind’s Hall 2 (2024) by Macklemore, which also features Abdul, Palestine already had its own unique voice. From the dabke (traditional folk dance) to oral poetry, its music became the language through which a homeland remembered itself.
Through this distinct Palestinian voice, Abdul is blending his generation’s connection to global music with the legacy of his own heritage. For him, hip-hop is not an “aesthetic” defined by a certain image or identity; rather, it is a form rooted in the lived realities of Palestinians and the everyday experiences, struggles, and stories unfolding on the ground.
After losing more than 80 members of his family since the war on Gaza began in 2023, Abdul turns to music as a way of carrying Gaza with him, bridging the physical distance between himself and the place that continues to shape his story.
In his latest single, Wait For Me (2026), the Rolling Stone Future 25 honoree raps about seeking refuge in the rap icons that raised him on the streets of Gaza. He draws a contrast between the struggles often narrated in modern hip-hop and his own war-torn reality, spitting, “rock bottom, we live in different predicaments. The world turns, and I’m rapping in the moment, but it never ends.”
With his debut album set to arrive this fall, Egyptian Streets spoke with Abdul to explore his creative process, his connection to Palestinian heritage, and his emergence as an artist representing the voice and experiences of his generation.
You’ve described writing as a form of therapy for yourself. Can you talk about moments in your writing process where putting words on the page helped you process emotions or experiences in ways you hadn’t been able to before?
Writing has always been a form of therapy for me. I’m truly grateful for music because it has been the one place where I’ve been able to reflect on my emotions and everything I’ve been through. I started rapping because I genuinely fell in love with it, and looking back now, it’s incredible to see where that passion has taken me.
Music saved my life. It gave me a way to tell my story, helped me make it out of Gaza, and gave me the opportunity to chase a dream that once felt impossible: becoming a global artist and, hopefully, inspiring others along the way. What made this upcoming album even more special was the process behind creating it.
The writing camp we put together felt like a therapy session. We would all sit in a circle, including the producers, the writers, and everyone else in the room, and I would share stories about my life, my experiences, and my journey. It truly felt like I was sitting in a therapist’s chair, but instead of just talking, we were transforming those emotions into music.
Every song started with a feeling, and then, together, we built the production around that emotion so the music reflected exactly what I was living through. It was one of the most healing and creative experiences I’ve ever had, and I believe people will be able to feel that when they listen to the album.
What does your writing process usually look like? Do you begin with a particular emotion, a memory, or an idea, or do you tend to have a clear story you want to tell from the start?
I like to fill up my notebook and journal first, just writing down my emotions, the things I’ve been going through, and what I’ve been feeling lately. Then I go into the studio and look for beats that match the emotions and stories I’ve written about, turning those thoughts into bars and bringing them to life through music.
I think a lot of artists maintain their authenticity by staying connected to their own experiences, and that’s how I stay rooted in the culture. I write about my journey and my experiences as a Gazan and a Palestinian, while always carrying my cultural traditions with me.
On this new album, for example, I incorporated a lot of Arab instruments and sounds, while still keeping the influence of American hip-hop that shaped me. When people listen to the songs, they’ll be able to hear both sides, such as the culture I come from and the music that inspired me.
Beyond American rappers, were there any Palestinian poets, musicians, or writers who shaped you creatively when you were growing up?
Growing up in Gaza, I was surrounded by Arabic music because that was the music everyone around me grew up listening to. But if I’m being honest, I personally connected more with Western music. I grew up listening to many different genres, but hip-hop was always the one that spoke to me the most.
It wasn’t just the music; it was the storytelling. I learned English through artists like Eminem and Nas, and seeing how they turned their own lives and experiences into art inspired me to do the same.
One Arab artist I always looked up to was Mohammed Assaf. We’re both from Gaza, born and raised in the same city, and he was the first person I saw from my hometown reach the global stage through music. Watching someone from where I come from achieve something on that level made me believe that it could be possible for me too.
Of course, Arab rap has also played a major role in my journey. Getting the opportunity to work with Tamer Nafar, the first Palestinian rapper on The Beat Never Goes Off (2021) was a full-circle moment. He helped lay the foundation for Palestinian hip-hop and showed how rap can be a powerful tool for telling our stories, expressing our realities, and speaking our truth.
Palestinian poetry has been just as influential in shaping who I am as an artist. Mahmoud Darwish is one of my favorite poets, and on my upcoming album, I sampled one of his poems because his words are timeless. They continue to speak to so much of what our people experience today.
That’s how I see my own music as well. Hip-hop is my language, but my identity, my culture, and my experiences as a Palestinian are at the center of everything I create. Whether it’s through Arabic instruments, Palestinian poetry, or the stories I share, I want my music to represent where I come from while connecting with people around the world.
On your upcoming album, there are moments where you include your family and Arabic into your songs. Those details create an intimate portrait of Palestinian home life. Was it important for you to invite listeners into those personal spaces, and what did you hope those moments would communicate?
With this album, I wanted it to feel deeply personal. That’s why it was important for me to include my family, incorporate Arabic words into my raps, and embrace all those small details that help people understand who I am on a deeper level. I feel like those elements allow listeners to take the journey with me, to visualize the stories I’m telling, and to truly connect with the emotions behind the music.
When I write about my life, I try to focus on the human experiences behind the stories rather than the politics. I’m simply telling my truth, rapping about what I’ve lived, what I’ve witnessed, and what I know.
What do you hope people take away from your music and your lyrics?
I want people to understand what it feels like to start with nothing, growing up in Gaza, and then suddenly getting the opportunity to travel to the United States to meet my team and finish the mixtape I was working on at the time.
The plan was always to go back to Gaza right after and be with my family, but instead, I became stuck in the U.S. when the genocide started back home. From there, my focus shifted to trying to get my family out and making sure they were safe. After that, I began building a new life in America, learning how to adapt to a new country, a new environment, and a place where people speak a different language. It was a huge adjustment, but I’m also grateful because my family is safe now, and my siblings have the opportunity to build a better future.
This new album is about that entire journey. It’s also my way of reconnecting with music after being away for a while. Over the past one to two years, I stepped back from social media and wasn’t releasing much music, so this project represents my return and everything I’ve experienced during that time.
I hope this album can inspire artists and people from all over the world who are going through their own struggles. Of course, I know Palestinians will connect with it on a deeper level because these stories come from our lived experiences, but my goal is for anyone to hear themselves in this music.
