Few rap scenes across the region can rival the depth and density of Morocco’s. Brimming with microphone champions across generations and sub-genres, it has grown into a sprawling ecosystem; one shaped by a youth culture that has fully claimed hip-hop as its sharpest, most instinctive mode of expression. At a point where two people can both swear by rap and still not share a single artist in common, Laayoune-born MC Chaos 333 is one of the few who reliably cuts across those divides. His versatility allows him to slip between pockets, scenes, and sensibilities without ever losing the thread of who he is.
Based out of the Kingdom’s South, specifically in Tamraght, the now 34-year-old, born Abdassamad Ghanem, has built a life across different creative disciplines. Each discipline circles back to the same core impulse: to express, relentlessly and most importantly without compromise. A former streamer, video-maker, ghostwriter, and topliner, his moniker might not ring a bell immediately, but chances are that you’ve already encountered some of his work—a hook, a verse, or some part of a track’s architecture that carried his touch without you even realizing it.
As he begins to pull all these different creative threads back toward himself, MILLE caught up with the multi-hyphenate to unpack his journey, the philosophy driving it all, and how he’s beginning to centralize a voice that’s long been dispersed across the scene.
Could you introduce yourself. Who are you, and how would you describe what you do?
My name is Abdassamad Ghanem, I’m Moroccan. I express myself, that’s what I do. Chaos isn’t something I describe, it’s something I am. I exist through it. I don’t just create chaos, I embody it.
When did your journey in music start, and what made you want to pick up the microphone in the first place?
It started around 2005 through dance. I was learning breakdance and hip-hop, and that’s when music and I really connected. It wasn’t just something I listened to anymore, it was something I was part of. I wanted to bring my own touch to it, starting with movement. At that time, hip-hop was everything. If you were in it, you were doing everything, dance, graffiti, music, production. It was all connected. Between 2005 and 2009, every neighborhood had its own hip-hop scene, its own energy.
The first time I held a microphone was through theater, when I was around 11 or 12. A teacher saw me during recess, noticed how active I was, and brought me into a play about the events of May 16 [the 2003 Casablanca terrorist attacks]. Speaking into a microphone and seeing people react made me understand something. It felt like a portal, a way to connect and exist in front of people.
At the same time, I moved from public school to private school, and it was difficult. I felt like an outsider, socially and financially. Everyone was ahead, more connected, more equipped. So I had to find a way to stand out. Music and style mattered a lot there, but I found my strength in dance. I worked on it obsessively, learning choreography from clips at night. It made me visible. After that, I started writing at school, and it brought me recognition. I also danced at concerts. Everything was building toward expression.
Were you always pulled toward art, or did something in your early environment shape that interest over time?
It was always there, but my environment pushed it out of me. I had to find a way to exist, and art became that way.
How did you settle on your stage name? Why “Chaos,” and what does “333” stand for?
Chaos comes from life itself. Life is chaotic. If I can exist in it and keep my clarity, then I am that chaos, and in reality it becomes a form of order. 333 is aligned with my life. I was born on March 3rd, the third day of the week, at 3 a.m. There’s also something symbolic: the Throne Day celebrations include three days of festivals. My mother loved that time and prayed to have a child then, and I was conceived at that exact moment. So 333 isn’t random, it’s something written.

Before music, you were streaming. What did that chapter look like, and what ultimately pushed you to make the shift?
I started with videos before music, on Facebook and YouTube. Then music came, and later streaming. It wasn’t really a shift, it’s all part of me. I’ve always created and always had ambition. I also worked as a writer and creative in production and communication, so I was constantly writing concepts, ads, ideas. At some point I started posting freestyles, and people connected with it and pushed me to continue. Streaming came because it gave me freedom. I didn’t have to wait for approval, I could just express myself directly.
At the beginning, were you worried people might not take you seriously as a musician?
No. I started with freestyles, so people already supported me. I knew that when I would release my first track, my community would be there, and even other artists.
Did you feel like you had to prove yourself more because you weren’t “expected” to be an artist? Where did that pressure show up the most?
I don’t really see myself as an artist, I see myself as art. The word “artist” is often misused. I didn’t feel like I had to prove anything. I wasn’t an outsider. People already respected me creatively, artists would ask me for advice, and I was already part of the space.
You’re also known for being a prolific lyricist, with placements across a range of major artists. At what point did it shift from writing for others to feeling like you could fully stand on your own?
I still write for others today. I still do toplines, ghostwriting, and artistic direction. Some songs I make don’t fit my vision, they won’t become classics for me, so I give them to others. What I keep is what defines me.

When you were writing for others, did you ever feel like you were giving away parts of yourself that should’ve been kept for yourself?
No. When I write for someone else, I step into them. For me, creating is like giving love. You give without expecting anything back. That’s how you protect yourself. The moment you think about your ego, you lose everything. Art is something you feel, it’s not supposed to be driven by ego.
Do you still feel connected to the artists you used to write for, or does stepping into your own lane create a kind of distance?
I still feel connected. When you create something with someone, that connection stays. Even if we don’t work together anymore, I can still hear what we built in their music, and they feel it too. A real connection doesn’t disappear.
What changed mentally when you went from being behind the scenes to being the one in front?
You realize that what’s in your mind can become real. Once you do it and see that it works, something unlocks. You stop doubting. There are a lot of people with talent who stay in the shadows because they never take that first step. That step changes everything.
There’s a difference between being a writer and being the one delivering the message. What made you feel ready to step fully into that role?
Nothing really changed at the core. I’ve always expressed myself deeply. Music just became another form for that. I’ve always taken my thoughts seriously, and I take people’s feelings seriously too.
Is there a specific track or lyric that you feel encapsulates who you are most?
What’s coming next represents me the most. Before, it was more about passing emotions. Now it’s more stable. It reflects who I really am, how I see myself and the world. I still have a few tracks to finish, but I’m waiting to reach the right state of mind to write them. It’s a process of becoming.

You’ve managed to build momentum without overexposure. Was that restraint a strategy, or just instinct?
It’s a strategy. If I can live from my art, it’s to protect who I am. I don’t want overexposure to take away my simplicity. Being able to go outside, be with my family, live normally, that’s a luxury. I want to keep that, and people respect that.
Did you ever expect to reach this level of success?
No. For me, this is nothing yet. Success is also human. Being able to help others, to give, to build something for people around you. I’m still preparing people for what’s coming next, preparing them to understand my future art.
Is there a specific moment where you’ll feel like the mission has been accomplished?
No. I never started this to finish one day. I will always evolve and push further. I’ll never feel like it’s enough, and that’s what keeps me going.
Now that we’ve seen you across the internet and through your music, are there other areas of culture you see yourself stepping into?
Painting attracts me. I feel it calling me, but I don’t want to rush. I want to stay focused on music for now. When the time is right, I’ll explore it.
You’ve never released a full-length project. Could we see one coming at some point?
I released a small project, but I wanted to give myself time to grow and be ready. Now it feels like the right moment. A new project is coming soon, and it will be different, in the music, in the works.
CREDITS
talent. Chaos
photography. Nassereddine Anjar (@eyesonasser)
creative direction|fashion. Nathalie Sicart (@sicartnathalie)
production coordination. Ayoub Ait El Houssain (@mowgli)
photography assistant. Oussama Drif (@blackyyyxx_)
fashion assistants. Leo Thomas(@_leothomas), Sahel Micheneau (@acsaeh), Hamza Ghazal (@hamzaghazal98)
retouch. Adam Lupton (@retouchedbyadam)