Stormzy saunters amiably into a west London photo studio in socks and grey sliders, soft black shorts and a white tank top. “Whatsup, everyone,” he says, nodding around solemnly at the scattering of people setting up the shoot. His team arrived a little while before, and immediately he’s drawn into conversation about an event, possibly his forthcoming 30th birthday party, more on which later. Someone (his team are not sure who) has been spreading invitations around. “Does Idris get a plus two?” a manager asks. “No.” “A plus one?” “Yeah.” He’s animated, speaking with his trademark booming voice.

“I’m a fuckin’ talker,” he tells me later, almost sheepish.

From the outside, it might seem as if Stormzy, otherwise known as Michael Ebenazer Kwadjo Omari Owuo Jr (or Big Mike), has never been afraid to use his voice. As his ascension to global superstardom has progressed, the musician has gone from grime trailblazer to a political figurehead for progressives and the Black British working class. His bars have icily laid waste to incompetent governments and the lack of Black history in the English education system (“Didn’t know we’re tryna implement our history through the schools,” he declared on My Presidents Are Black).

His most recent album, This Is What I Mean, released in 2022, refined his message with a new sense of maturity. A few tracks even had Stormzy crooning – his singing voice, which I hear on set, isn’t bad for a rapper – and it delighted in a diverse array of featured artists, from Sampha to India Arie. It was less a storm and more a serenade. “Usually when I’ve made albums – I say ‘made albums’ like I’ve got a 10-album catalogue, it’s just three – it’s always been a heavy process,” he says. “But after this one, and this is the first album I’ve truly made with God in the room, I had juice!”

He has recorded and released three new singles in the past few months: the theatrical Toxic Trait; Longevity Flow, a juicy track about success and power, with a video that features a cameo from Tom Cruise; and The Weekend, with fellow south Londoner Raye. And while so far this year he’s only scheduled to do one UK performance, it’s a big one: a takeover of London’s All Points East music festival in August, titled This Is What We Mean Day.

Ostensibly, we’re here today to talk not about music but about the Stormzy scholarship at the University of Cambridge, which pays the full tuition fees plus a maintenance grant for a select number of Black undergraduate students. Two of the students are set to join the shoot, but for the first hour, it’s just us. We’re sitting off in a side studio, painted bright white, with the sun spilling in. Stormzy is in his prime; muscled and matte-skinned, the faintest of stretchmarks running down his biceps. He’s spoken in the past of his rigorous exercise routine before tours; how he trains like an athlete almost every night of the week, sprinting, lifting, jumping, getting hench.

Before the interview began, Stormzy was mic’d up, trailed with a camera by director Jordan “Zebie” Boza. I wonder if we’re going to be filmed – no, it turns out, but they are recording the audio. His team say it’s for a documentary, but Stormzy says the collection of footage is just part and parcel of his everyday life. Is it all right, always having someone in your space like that, I ask? “He’s my brother,” he says of Boza. “Not my blood brother, but … He’d be there anyway. It’s been happening. He’s been doing it for years now.” For someone who claims to be a homebody, most likely to be found spending time with his two rottweilers – Stormzy calls them his “sons” – being documented 24/7 seems like the most unusual aspect of his lifestyle. That, of course, and the fact that he’s throwing a literal gala for his 30th birthday.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t get out the house much, but birthdays for me are a big thing,” he says. The gala will be a splashy, elegant affair in a big venue – and then he’s planning another, separate party. Smaller? I ask. “Nah, not smaller, just not as classy. The gala will look nice and the other one will be a fuckin’ piss-up,” he laughs.

He has also decided to fly out to Ibiza with his friends. An exciting plan, but one that is grating on him because of the feeling of frivolity. “I think coming from a working-class background, suttin’ that people don’t … ” He pauses briefly. “There’s a lot of dynamics in terms of having success. People lose their minds and spend all their money and buy this stupid thing, that stupid thing. The other dynamic is that people don’t really figure out how to enjoy the fruits of their labour.” What he means, he says, is that spending £25,000 on a villa in Ibiza for a few days will never be something that he could do lightly, regardless of how rich he is.

‘I’ve done the serious bit, so now it’s just enjoy.’ Photograph: Karis Beaumont/The Guardian

Overall, he’s looking forward to his birthday, though. “In a beautiful way – because I mean, I thank God I’ve done a lot of growing these past four or five years. I’ve done the serious bit, so now it’s just enjoy,” he says.

The serious bits have been multifaceted. In 2018, he and his team launched #Merky Books, a publishing imprint with Penguin Random House. So far they’ve published more than a dozen titles, including Keisha the Sket, the raw teen novel by Jade LB that won the British Book Discover award in 2022, and Malorie Blackman’s memoir, Just Sayin’. #Merky have also launched a New Writers’ prize, an annual competition open to young, underrepresented and undiscovered writers, with a publishing contract on offer to the winner. The imprint genuinely seems to be doing, and saying, something new in the industry.

Stormzy is also part of a consortium of buyers, including Croydon-raised footballer Wilfried Zaha, who took on ninth tier football team AFC Croydon which, “without sounding cliche”, he hopes they’ll be able to build up naturally with the help of community engagement. “The automatic comparison is Wrexham, but for us it’s just very much like, this is our home town,” he adds. Stormzy grew up in Croydon and Norbury, and is unabashedly proud of his south London roots. I tell him that he once came down to support the south London football team I play for, the Lambeth Allstars. “Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!” he says enthusiastically. “I know some of them boys.”

Perhaps his most well-publicised initiative so far, though, is the Stormzy scholarship. Since it launched in 2018, it has supported 32 students overall. Cambridge confirms that the university has subsequently seen an uptick in applications from Black students, which they’ve dubbed the “Stormzy effect”. In 2017, 87 Black and mixed-Black students were accepted into the university; by 2022 that number had risen to 182. It probably wasn’t just the scholarship that led to this, but Cambridge communications officer Paul Seagrove acknowledges the power of the Stormzy name in raising the university’s profile in underrepresented communities.

The idea for the scholarship, Stormzy clarifies, was something he dreamed up out of respect for “academically brilliant students”, and that his team made happen. They initially took the idea to Oxford, who didn’t express interest (Stormzy calls this “a shame”), but the collaboration with Cambridge has been positive. As someone from a single-parent working-class background who, despite being on track to go to a good university at GCSE, didn’t finish his A-levels, he stresses he “overstands” the idea that it could be perceived as elitist, but feels certain that he is doing a good thing. “I get it, I get the criticism,” he says. “One day, by the grace of God, I will be in a position where man can do everything my heart desires.”

Today’s shoot is in part a celebration of the news that HSBC will be sponsoring an additional 30 scholarships at the university, and some of the past scholars’ achievements. Drew Chateau, who studied law and is now a trainee at a top firm, and Joseph Vambe, who studied human, social and political sciences, and is now a Labour councillor, were the first two students on the scholarship. Until today they have not been publicly named – Stormzy, and the university, wanted to protect them from any unnecessary pressure during their studies.

You know, when you do something half positive, people are like, woah, you are Mother Teresa. And it’s like, yo, chill man

Stormzy says he thinks of them as his younger siblings. Although he and his team have no say in who is chosen for the scholarship, Chateau and Vambe both happen to be from south London, and the trio share commonalities in life experience. “I’ve seen them at least once a year since the scholarship. We got together at Cambridge,” Stormzy says. “I just feel it was very spiritual. You know, I’m proud of them. I love them from afar.”

He stresses that initially, he was very hesitant about meeting them at all, as he didn’t want them to feel indebted to him. Later, during the shoot, I see him bantering with the pair, touching Chateau on the arm to reassure her. At one point she lays her head on his shoulder; they seem comfortable around each other. Though Stormzy walks with the slight hunch of someone used to ducking (he is 6ft 4in), in front of the camera he is pin-straight, almost boyish. When the photographer sets up a shot with Stormzy standing in between the students, he gently protests. “I don’t want to be in the middle,” he throws up his hands awkwardly. “It’s a bit fuckin’ … ” In the rest of the pictures he stands to the side, a proud big brother.

“I used to be really uncomfortable with that at the beginning of my career,” he explains further. “You know, when you do something half positive. People are like, ‘Woah, you are Mother Teresa.’ And it’s like, yo, chill man.” The discomfort is practically pouring out of him. “We should do good – without sounding like a fuckin’ peacekeeping activist,” he catches himself. “Now, I’m not here to denounce the activists, I love you guys and you are doing fucking amazing.” This constant second-guessing of how his words are going to be perceived feels like it must be tiring.

When we get on to politics, the sense of being unable to sit in his words rears its head again. Stormzy is somewhat bemused by the fact that he’s been cast as someone with an interest in party politics, when in reality, like so many people, he’s still figuring it out. “Somewhere down the line I’ve become a political figure, which is mad funny to me,” he says. He first publicly encouraged young people to vote for Labour in 2016, alongside fellow artists such as Akala and Ghetts. This was solidified by his Brit awards and Glastonbury sets, where he demanded government accountability for Grenfell, and by his first No 1 single, Vossi Bop, which featured the celebrated line: “Fuck the government and fuck Boris.” Now, much like today, he can’t do an interview without being questioned about his political leanings.

‘Academically brilliant students’: Joseph Vambe and Drew Chateau. Photograph: Karis Beaumont/The Guardian

As he has in the past, he talks about his love of Jeremy Corbyn, adding that the former Labour leader was a politician he truly believed in. When asked about the “diverse” Tory cabinet, he says he’s not “here to war Black Tories”, but quickly adds that it might be “taboo” to say so, and that he knows their beliefs can be “dangerous”. How about the leaders – Rishi Sunak, Keir Starmer and co? “I don’t know about none of these guys,” he says. “In the most south London terms, I fucked with bro [Corbyn]. I see all you wicked people take this job and just do your wickedness and be badmind. With politicians, they’re somewhere making decisions, and this is people’s lives. This is real life.”

What political consciousness he has quite simply relates to his faith in God. In a BBC interview with Louis Theroux last year, he took the documentarian to his church in Kennington, south London, where the pastors and congregants spoke openly and expansively about their faith and their emotions. Sometimes, when Stormzy speaks today, it’s with that same intonation. He’s moved deeper into his faith, he tells me, which is why he’s holding himself more accountable for his words and actions as he approaches his 30s.

“I feel, as a man of God, I hold myself to a higher standard. That’s the thing, that’s the thing that I need to stop copping out about. And I’ve never actually said that out loud in an interview, but I think that’s a big thing I’ve realised in recent years,” he says.

I’m a public-facing human who’s just 29. I’ve gone through all these motions of becoming a man in front of the world

“I am a fucking child sometimes,” he adds. “I’ll get in this deep bag. But if you catch me on my worst days, you’ll be like, this guy isn’t 30. What I’ve heard a lot these past two weeks is, ‘You’re turning 30 soon.’ As in, I’ve done some stupid shit, said some stupid shit.”

He admits that it can be hard being “a public-facing human who’s just 29, who’s been in the public eye since my early 20s. I’ve gone through all these motions of becoming a man in front of the world. You don’t have that grace. It’s like, ‘Woah man, you fucking done that? And you broke her heart? And you pulled up to his house? Whoa, man you crazy.’” Here, he’s presumably referencing the infamous occasion when he went with his boys to London rapper Chip’s house, to confront him during a rumoured feud that had played out in diss tracks, and, separately, the fact that he and his former girlfriend Maya Jama broke up due to his “public disrespect”.

Tabloid reports of him being back with Jama late last year were false, he confirms, and although he’s a “single pringle with my dogs” right now, he giggles that any future wife of his will be “God-fearing”, as otherwise, they wouldn’t understand an integral part of his soul.

We’re coming to the end of the day now, and I move to shake his hand. He gives me a hug instead, and I immediately step on one of his feet. He doesn’t mention it, getting ready to jet off in a banana-yellow Lamborghini; probably home to his dogs, who he proudly shows me pictures of on his phone. He shares a few more words with the students, bantering, and chatting with his team who have been studiously taking phone calls about the many important initiatives he’s involved in, and manoeuvring around the set like the pros they are. One of them picks up a copy of the latest book the #Merky imprint will publish – The Situationship by Taylor Dior-Rumble, a Black romcom – and promises to send me a copy.

These last scenes of the day, in their own way, all say something about Stormzy. A man with ambition but also with intention, who is trying to keep it real. He’s sitting in a space of joy and faith, but is also concerned by the idea that he might come across as cringey or insincere. He’s not perfect, and he knows it, but he’s trying to be better and move with humility and kindness towards people around him, regardless of who they are. And that counts for a lot.

Applications this year for the Stormzy Scholarship are open from 17 August to 3 September; go to cam.ac.uk for more information.

Joseph Vambe, Drew Chateau and Stormzy. Photograph: Karis Beaumont/The Guardian Stormzy and the students

The grime superstar and two of his young proteges in conversation

As the first recipients of the Stormzy Scholarship to Cambridge in 2018, Drew Chateau and Joseph Vambe didn’t know what to expect. They had already been accepted, to do law, and human, social and political sciences respectively; this was the flake in the 99.

After graduating, Vambe, 23, joined the Labour party as administrative secretary before being elected as a Labour councillor for Southwark last year, making him the authority’s youngest councillor. Chateau, 24, is now completing her legal training at an international law firm and hopes to specialise in property law. Sitting alongside Stormzy, they reflect on their time at university, their upbringings, and what it means to give back to the place you’re from.

When did Cambridge come on to the horizon?Drew Chateau I’ve always loved studying. I wanted to go to Cambridge, but realised it might be hard because, during A-levels, I was doing a lot, working part-time. But one head of sixth form was really supportive; it was the unspoken bond between Black women. I was the only Black person in my sixth form to get an offer.

Joseph Vambe My politics teacher kept me behind after class and was like, “You should think about this course at Cambridge.” That’s when it happened.

Stormzy, when you met these two, what did you think?Stormzy When they told me their stories, of how they got here, I thought it was God’s favour, grace and motion. Me and my team don’t have a say in who’s picked; you just hope it goes to people who deserve it. And it couldn’t have gone to two better people.

At first, maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to meet anyone; it’s not about me. Plus, they’re smarter than me! What the fuck am I gonna tell them? But then I was like, away from the scholarship, I wanted them to know I got them, and you got me. It’s spiritual.

Do you feel as if you share a common background?JV I think Stormzy felt connected to us because we’ve all experienced different forms of hardship, and in our own avenues we’ve become successful.

DC If there’s one thing I want people to take away from the scholarship and our stories, it’s that your struggles are your own, and you can be successful.

Can you tell us a bit about your individual stories?DC So I was born … [Everyone laughs] No, seriously, I grew up in a single-parent household. I honestly don’t know how my mum did it. It really got tough in secondary school, because we were made homeless. You’re dealing with studying for your GCSEs but also not knowing where you’re going to stay. My family made a lot of sacrifices for me. My mum was very protective and didn’t want me disturbed while I was studying. Then she got very ill, so I was barely at school. Things were just compounding, compounding. I also have dyslexia. I was trying to find ways to learn, but everything took me longer, and I had less time to study. It was all very stressful.

JV My aunt was my carer. Growing up, I was calling her my mum; my cousins were my brothers and sisters. She was a single parent with four kids, then I came in to make a fifth. On an inner-city deprived council estate. With all of that comes its issues, but there was always someone navigating me in the right direction. My family, the church and my teachers. Just as I found out I was going to Cambridge, a very close friend died, so I had to deal with the grief. I left for Cambridge wanting to break out of the hood and live a new life. But in my third year, I started missing it. I wanted to come back and help grow my area. When I got elected as a Labour councillor in Southwark, it was a full-circle moment. I thought, “Who better to come back and help? To be someone who understands some of the issues, but also the great moments.” I had a great childhood, despite the hardships.

Yeah, I don’t think we want to tell a simplistic story: you went through hardship, got out of the hood, and then …S That’s one of the paradoxes of being where we’re from. Whenever I get asked about my childhood, at the time it was never this menacing … I mean, it was in hindsight, but it was also really funny, with your friends, at the chicken shop. It’s all these moments of joy and youth and childhood, alongside these very adult, traumatic, real-life situations you’re exposed to. Young people with grown-people problems, like grief. Your friends shouldn’t be dying. It’s a heavy thing for a young man or woman.

What were your Cambridge years like?JV It was a culture shock and an everything shock. I see myself as a very social person. The first drinks we had, I felt so isolated. Those first few weeks were very difficult, just finding myself. I went from being very nervous, thinking, “Everyone’s ahead of me, they have a way better education than me, I’m lucky to be here” to, “I deserve to be here, I have a right to.”

DC Yeah, even that “I deserve my place” mentality, that ebbed a lot. Especially during the pandemic. My grades in my first year were not the best, and as an overachiever I felt like I should have been better. Cambridge is no joke. I loved my degree, but it was very mixed. I think we should talk about it being tough.

Photograph: Karis Beaumont/The Guardian. Styling: Juanjose Mouko Nsue. Grooming: Bianca Simone Scott. Stormzy wears shirts by Bottega Veneta and Prada. Drew wears Guess jacket and trousers. Joseph wears 3.Paradis jacket

Anything you’d still like to say to each other?S I really wanted to go to Cambridge. I know what you lot have done is not easy, otherwise we would all just rock up there. It shows you can do anything you ever want. Not in a fairytale way. If you want to talk about ability, resilience, mindset, graft, intelligence …

DC I get that from you as well. With what you’ve done with the #Merky Foundation [which pledges £10m over 10 years to organisations fighting for racial equality, justice reform and Black empowerment within the UK] and this scholarship, you were like, “I have this idea. And I’m going to make it happen.”

S Thank you, I appreciate it. Sometimes failed dreams are just a lack of confidence. Everyone has their thing. Whenever I see these guys I’m like, “Yo, you lot got the credentials in your back pocket. Just fly, fly, fly.”

What’s next for you both?DC One of the reasons I wanted to go into law is my family situation. When we were made homeless, we got legal advice, including how to get accommodation for the night. If we didn’t have that, we would have been on the street. That was my main driver, and financial stability. I’d love to be able to start a legal charity that also supports people in social housing. Even though landlords shouldn’t, they do reject a lot of people who are on benefits. I’m also a creative person and want to do theatre, acting and writing.

JV I’m a councillor, which allows me to vote to improve things for people. I also work at Christian Aid, which is dealing with huge humanitarian issues around the world. A combination of that international work and improving people’s day-to-day lives in this country. My goal is to be on a more influential stage. There is a gap, and a need for people from diverse backgrounds. So, yeah, I want to have a strong influence … and also manage Manchester United.