How two brothers helped propel grime into the mainstream

At this time, grime was still a young and developing genre of music that was emerging out of the electronic dance scene.

Up-and-coming British rappers were being signed to major labels to make what the industry considered to be more commercially viable songs.

In other words - not grime.

But the ethos of BBK was to stay independent and stay true to who you are.

"They are incredibly headstrong people and probably saw the pitfalls of signing deals," says RWD magazine founder Dacre Bracey, who has covered grime since its inception.

There are other members of the label - such as Frisco, Jammer and Shorty - but "the genius of BBK is the Adenuga family," he explains.

An early sign of this genius was their T-shirts printed with the Boy Better Know logo.

Designed by JME - who would go on to graduate from the University of Greenwich with a degree in 3D digital design - they were sold all over the capital and helped fund the label in the early days, says Bracey.

"Everyone would wear their T-shirts at school," Shaybo adds.

"BBK gave you the confidence to be unapologetically yourself. I could listen to music I really related to."

Another artist who felt the influence while still a teenager was rapper Capo Lee.

He attended Winchmore School in north London, the same as the Adenuga brothers, although is a few years younger.

Things were really starting to grow for the label in the late 2000s.

They'd released dozens of well-received mixtapes, culminating in the track Too Many Man, which broke into the UK singles charts.

But by 2010, the world of grime looked very different.

"The excitement had petered out," Bracey says.

"The police really drew down on the live event aspect of grime so you couldn't perform, and the [government] cracked down on pirate radio.

"A lot of people retired and moved on, or changed genres."

Dizzee Rascal, who once defined the sound of grime with his Mercury Prize-winning debut Boy in da Corner, now made more commercial rap, with songs like Bonkers and Dance Wiv Me.

But Capo Lee still sees this commercial breakthrough as a positive for grime.

"Music was very different in the 2010s, but [the public] got used to seeing black men on the screen," he says.

Even through this quiet period for grime, BBK continued to release music.

"JME has always had this very strong spirit of independence, he's never been seduced by the trappings of fame," says documentary photographer Simon Wheatley, who has known the Adenuga brothers for many years.

Skepta temporarily altered course, signing to Universal where he released his third album Doin' It Again to modest commercial success.

But his sound was watered down and he left the label, returning to grime with the 2014 hit That's Not Me, a song about rejecting commercial pressure and designer brands to be true to yourself.

The music video, which cost £80 to create, scooped a Mobo award - proving Skepta could make it just fine on his own.

Other artists would follow - Stormzy, Dave, Bugzy Malone - and take the genre in different directions, but they all began on the independent path forged by BBK.

Even an artist like Shaybo, who would not describe herself as a grime MC, says BBK has had a huge impact on her.

"Grime was my foundation, they gave me the skills to rap and the confidence to embrace my heritage," the 29-year-old says.

"When people hear BBK they know it's BBK."

"These things could only have happened in London or the UK, through the melting pot of cultures," Bracey adds.

"That's why BBK are great and magical and special."

Additional reporting by Connie Bowker