Trailblazing Spanish rapper Cruz Cafuné takes us through a day in his life, heading down to Beau Beaus café and then to his headline show in London.

We landed in London at 8 am, dropped our bags at the hotel, and went straight to BeauBeaus for a quick coffee before tackling the day ahead. One Slawn tee and a latté later, we kept it moving as we had to be at the venue early for soundcheck, and I wanted to squeeze in a couple visits during the short 48 hours we had in town.
We had to hit the Rye Lane food tour. Madrid’s got no Jamaican spots, and we needed our jerk chicken fix. I mean, sure, there are wraps, but damn - none like Yemane’s. You can imagine the food coma we fell into afterward.
We've got an enviable fanbase. They spent the entire show screaming word for word, jumping and sweating. This is one of the moments a moshpit broke out.
Huge thanks to everyone who waited outside just to snap a selfie or get something signed- it's all love.
Aura, or whatever the kids say.
The day after the show we hit Pellicci's to smash a full English. Not gonna lie, I’m not a huge fan of beans for breakfast - I feel they're a bit heavy - so I proceeded to chat with the waiters in a made-up Italian-Spanish hybrid and convinced them to hook me up with a piece of lasagna, which, of course, is famously light.
Tyrrell Winston, what a guy. I don't know shit about fine art, but how a couple of deflated basketballs on dark wood can make me wanna blast NY State of Mind? Crazy. Somebody get Teddy on the phone - I need to know how to import those Greek chocolate bars he sells over there to Tenerife.
Every time I step into Maharishi I feel like Neo and Morpheus about to throw hands.
Ten minutes at the Southbank skatepark and you start planning in your head the opening scene to your debut skate mixtape, eating shit and trying to clear a 25-stair set. Shame we’re not in town for the Little Simz curated festival, the line-up’s insane.