Friday, 18 October 2013

New Music: 5AM IN ILORIN

Bamidele Alade a.k.a Booz is a 400 level student of the University of Ilorin who has spent the better part of his years developing his passion for music and honing his lyrical prowess.
Booz is widely popular among musicians and music lovers alike in the Ilorin metropolis and due to popular demand he has been working on his debut mixtape aptly titled 'YOUNG HANDSOME and FOCUSED'.
5AM IN ILORIN is the first single off the mixtape. The track which has been critically acclaimed by hiphop heads around the country is a unique cover of Drake's 5AM IN TORONTO. It features Booz's lyrical prowess and adept wordplay. Critics and fans alike agree this is a track unlike any other and indeed leaves one anticipating the #YHFmixtape. Enjoy.

Download here

Follow booz
Facebook :

Twitter: @boozybooze

Wednesday, 16 October 2013

Face of the week.

Full name: Liman Ayodele Bilikis

Nickname: Sunshine

D.O.B: 21 / 05 / 19**

Relationship status: In a relationship

Hobbies: Singing, dancing, swimming...
Addiction(s): Making up

Most embarrassing experience:nil

Views on religion: I am neutral

Your song of the moment: Eminado by Tiwa savage ft Don-jazzy

What song do you sing in the bathroom: Listen by Beyonce

Sports: Swimming

Favorite food: Well... I just love good favorites

Celebrity crush: Jason derulo

Dream country: Paris

Dream Car: A Red rangeover sport..

what's that one thing you want so bad right now: A car...I am sick of trekking

Do you like the fact that we have to be dressed in white&Black everyday?(And why): yeah I like word " class"

Instagram or twitter?(And why): twitter... Well, cos its "twitter" :)

Biggie or Tupac?(And why): Tupac

Craziest online experience: nil

Where do you see yourself in 7 years: I see me as a Mother of 2, an Aviation lawyer...nd a great wife

Twitter handle: @cuteeliman

Instagram handle: nil

Tuesday, 15 October 2013

First class idiot.


Tell it to all Nigerian undergraduates. Tell them over and over till it starts ringing in their ears. That long gone are the days when students were worshipped merely because they have a first class degree. I do not underrate academic excellence in any way. As a matter of fact, I believe that what is worth doing at all should be well done. Therefore, spending 4 or 5 years (or even more, courtesy of ASUU strike) in an institution should be 'resultful'.
In an educational system that is way behind globally, a student must not be caught in the waves of the current status quo, lest he be swept away unto the island of oblivion.
Employers no longer tremble at the sight of a first class certificate. NO. They need results. They need someone who has something to offer. Someone who can bring something tangible to the table. Someone whose creativity can positively impact the organization.
The world is now competitive, more than ever and the Nigerian student must learn that 'la cramme la poure' has become a blunt albeit redundant tool in this battle. For those who do not know, 'la cramme la poure' is a system where a student crams(memorizes) his note or a material supplied by the lecturer, reproduces it exactly on the answer sheet, gets a good grade and forgets it as soon as the exams are over.
Tell it to the students. Tell them over and over till it starts ringing in their ears. That a first class degree will only get you to the stage. Once there, the audience will be earnestly awaiting you Performance and if you do not meet up they boo you out of the stage. That a first class degree only gets you as far as a room, across an interview panel and it does not guarantee you a job. That a first class degree does not automatically translate to first class career.
What am I saying? Students must learn beyond the chalk board. Students must read outside their expired, rarely updated curriculum. Students must learn soft skills. They must make efforts to get adequate exposure. These are what makes you stand out. Not a certificate you cannot defend after a year due to the amnesia after effect of 'la cramme la poure'.
Lecturers should encourage creativity in the classes. Spur students to think outside the box, to constructively criticize their lesson notes. Marking schemes should only be a guide and not an original that must be photocopied exactly.
check round, do your research, follow the successful people. Ask them questions, and they will tell you their current status is not primarily a result of their class of Degree.
Tell it to all Nigerian undergraduates. Tell them over and over till it starts ringing in their ears. That they should strive to graduate with the best results possible (have a first class if they can). However, they should go a step further to ensure they can defend that certificate, and ultimately compete favourably globally by acquiring such knowledge, exposure and experience as necessary. Otherwise, risk becoming a first class idiot.
Using a Biblical analogy, let me end by saying: For 'la cramme la poure' profits a little but the real knowledge and skills are profitable for all things.
Tobi Amoo
Tobi Amoo

Monday, 7 October 2013

Face of The Week

Full Name: POPOOLA TAIWO SHEHU.                              
Nickname: popson.                                                                     

Free beats from TeeFwesh .

TeeFwesh an outstanding upcoming producer is making his first online appearance by putting out beats for you guys to drop bars on, after taking music-producing as a career for a while now. He produced for a bunch of artistes -the made and upcoming both. He is well known for his creativity and the aura of excellence he posseses when it comes to spicing up beats with extraordinary rhythm and melody. TeeFwesh has a very

Friday, 4 October 2013


Yet another beautiful piece from Tinu H.K
The sea of the sky cries blue tears from one eye, From these blue tears,the tiny birds fly. Different birds from different levels of pain, On the wings of these birds are lifeless uncomfortables. The uncomfortables brought

Monday, 23 September 2013

Premier League Team Of The Week 5

The team of the week is back. This is an unusual weekend as regards result and goal scorers. Southampton defeated Liverpool at home, Manchester City thumped Manchester United in the Manchester derby...And John Obi Mikel scored his first premier league goal in his 185TH game. So here is it...


There is rattling and rattling in the Achilles tendon
Rushing and rushing of the memorial vendor
Towards the season’s decent regalia
As the widening keeps twining above the shoulder
Sanity is reserved for the posterity
Hence, the nights make way, for a perfect gaze is killing
Emotions left on the loose, that in the middle of a lip-lock
Quadruple eyes are left wide awake
You are not hanging everywhere whenever I stare

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

The Nigerian Music Industry: Producing 'Good Music' and 'Crap Music'? Whose fault? (part2)

"Nigerian music industry, Live fast die young, good looking corpse"

Here's the second and last part to the write up that was posted last week HERE

Wednesday, 11 September 2013



 Carried through simulated hemmed-in fog and dumped before early sunlight begin to cast first shadows on our impure places; the sobriety mortley crue mused had managed to play itself into the reach of death. John yells in a low voice, “We’re out!” why won’t we be? Ade searches every sensitive corner in the whole of the room through john’s face before even a blink, , ”you smoked all over the place like you bought a takeaway meal from a buffalo before realising it’s a buffet, not one joint left over! Well john has a joint hiding away, up high in one of the foot wears so that at any perfectly inspired hunt of a random line of criminal foot wears of them likes he, himself would not pick out the smuggler foot wear, despite that the two had been on a hopeless smoking spree for so long that the room itself is smoked high, 30 wall clocks would have just about enough to smoke in a day and they’d sleep for twelve times by the day they’d smoked. I would have liked to say I don’t like splashing names and labels on smoke but in actual fact I’d say I wouldn’t want to advertise, that would come at a high cost. As Ade throws his head into a folded t-shirt john had just

Lyrics to KOJO by @iceverse

Ice Verse, a fast rising Nigerian rapper dropped this Tune some weeks ago. Produced by DJ Klem, thought to share the lyrics to the song with yall

Let it go
Let it go

Tuesday, 10 September 2013

The Nigerian Music Industry: Producing 'Good Music' and 'Crap Music'? Whose fault? (part1)

 ."Nigerian music industry, Live fast die young, good looking corpse"....
This article was written on the 27th of August 2013

 Last night I woke up around 2 in the morning, I couldn't go back to sleep so I went for my usual habit of surfing the net while listening to music. 

Anyways, I ran into a tweet about how the popular South African song 'Khona' is not supposed to be a 'party jam' as many Nigerians perceived it to be.

The tweet made me curious and so I tried searching for the meaning of the song. And wow!!! There it was, lying in one of my favorite blogsites (
Prior to this, the only thing I loved and respected about that song were the unique dance moves I saw in the video.
However, as I read through the blog, I got  a totally different view about the song. I realized that the song is way deeper that just a 'bunch of South Africans' dancing and singing. I fell in love with the music itself immediately. 

Back to the matter (no be open and close oh. hehe), the interpretation got me thinking, 'a song which so much depth in meaning and expression, how come it got so much commercial success?' 
You wouldn't blame me though, the Nigerian mentality that a commercial song has to be 'meaningless' got a serious grip on me. And there I was all these while thinking we Nigerians made the best music in the continent. *smh*
It also got me thinking about the general Nigerian mentality that to be successful as an artist you do not only have to be commercial, you also have to sing 'crap'(nonsense).
Ok, yeah we know that loads  Nigerian artists making very low quality music. I must say, rather than blaming it all on these music makers, the 'fans' also are a major cause of this. 
I know at this point you are thinking, 'wetin consign fan with making of music', but for this point to be well understood, I must break something down. 

The fact is, this music thing is business and this is why you hear a lot of our artists calling themselves business men/women. And just as the normal convention, every business has its customers, and of course, the demands of these customers are what these business people would love to satisfy. They have no choice. Doing otherwise would be like forcing your product(s) on the customer/consumer(just like wana said in 360nobs) and this, my people cannot work anywhere in the world. 
From my experience with Nigerian music, I have come to a realize that not only are the fans indecisive, they are also confused. 
For my point to be well understood, I have to delve a lil bit into explaining what I really think music is (or should be).
Music is an art, a way of life, major means of communication, telling stories, it is used to narrate experiences, used to express feelings among several other things. 
If not for music, many wouldn't know the life stories of the likes of Tupac, Biggie, Dagrin (All in blessed memory), Warren G, Snoop Dogg, 50 cent, Jay Z, Akon, Chris Brown, Usher, Kendrick Lamar, Eminem, Kanye and many others. 
Without even meeting them in person, we get a good picture of their lives, their struggles, challenges and exploits and other things. 

However, it is so sad that in 2013 an average Nigerian artist's belief is that,he has to sing 'crap' to be successful. 
This trend as far back as I can remember started in the mid 2000s. 
I remember an artist back then sang that he was totally tired of making sense in his songs. Why? Because he has tried over and over again but he realized that the fans seem to rather prefer the 'nonsense' music to good music. He then said he was gonna start singing 'nonsense'.
Well, I cannot remember the artist who sang it so I wouldn't know if he made it with the 'nonsense' music.

My point is, there are several artists who are ready to make good music, but due to the kind of market they are selling their products to, they are forced to sing 'DUST'.
All these artists have several things at stake. We know of several artists who after getting their degree (instead of working with it) because of their passion for the game, dumped their degrees and pursued their musical career. We know of other who dropped out and several others who never even went to school at all (all in the name of wanting to 'blow').
As if all these ain't enough, they face several challenges from home as we know that in the kind of society we live, only 'omo burukus' (bad kids) would want to do music. 
Like i said earlier, the fans are the customers, but what happens when the customers/consumers are indecisive or confused?.
Today they love rap music, tomorrow they love, RnB and the day after they are in love with 'Ginger' music.
I've witnessed many good Nigerian artist depreciate. Not because they don't enjoy making good music, but because the good music they made didn't get them paid.
M.I's first album (Talk About It) as far as I'm concerned is one of the greatest rap albums in Nigeria. The song 'crowd mentality' moved the airwaves as Mr. Incredible made an attempt to encourage Nigerians to do what they love and not what the crowd does. 

And the Story even gets more interesting in the next part of this post.... stay connected to this blog for the better half..

write up by Olayemi Oladapo 


Violence is no gain
For it begets tear-jerker
Violence is no way
For the red meat is no way
Shanghaid sip no milk

I fear the night
I may be next
Eyes, full of sorrow
Eyes begets tears
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame

"Nigger lay low"
For by your coming
You have shattered
Sighting luggage by the path
Inject anxiety

Buh oh ! Thy hated western ideas
And yet ride choice horses
Dwell in luxury
Do they travel overseas in skite ?
What a wood pecker

Oh ! Boko Haram.
Drink from the fountain of Zimzim and ablution kettle
Opt for gasket and not casket and tombs
Let status quo return !
Let thy eagle stay

Email -
Digit - 0803-209-6205

Friday, 23 August 2013

RIM"(Rap is Madness)

After dropping the smash hit "OLD MAN"which features Africa's Vocalist JaniMilez, the rap crooner "DOOLEX" is back again with another tight rap hit titled "RIM"(Rap is Madness) prod by Oddy Jay. Ha ha we all wondered what this song is all about until we heard it. It's so HOT!!! You'll love it.No games no gimmicks.
Download,Listen,share and leave comments

You could also get in touch with the rapper on:
Twitter: @therealdoolex
Facebook :
 by Raybak



Motley crue

*…just one more night

And I’m coming off this

Long and winding road

I’m on my way

I’m on my way

Home sweet home

Tonight, tonight

I’m on my way

I’m on my way

Home sweet home

You know that I’ve seen

Too many romantic dreams

Up in lights, falling off the silver screen

My heart’s likes an open book

For the whole world to read

Sometimes nothing keeps me together in the seams

I’m on my way….

The track has been playing untiringly on repeat since last night and sturdily across the long and unkindly cold darkness. Into a tequila sunrise, John had just woken up so he hauls his right hand gently from underneath Ade’s body, scrubs the ray of sunlight off his oily face, peeps through a thin sight from his glued eyes; its another morning so behold rise up, shine and give God the glory but his laziness would rather satisfy the latter. He’s is in possession of only an impaired memory, he can only puzzle out quite a little but cogent thought of the night before. A feeling of wanting to mop, soap, and immerse himself then one more random thought; he knows there couldn’t have been a purpose. He clocks an unusual white paper and a pen left over it, when there’s a white paper its usually in company of vegetables so it catches his full attention that it brightens his sight out of blur, braces his spirit and summons willingness, he quickly picks it, as he starts reading the song faints slowly to the world and soaks him through the timber, drowning him in the ink as it cross over one another…”how did we wind up here, in this dreaded city of despair, an enemy of our breed whose sole goal is slaughtering our kind over and over. Let’s just call this a memoir or so, formalities bore me to death or at least it ought to, since I haven’t been ruthless enough to for once wait on my slayer so I say lets cross that bridge when we never really get to it. At a young age I was at a place where; we’d sit in and watch over the edge and over again sunlight sets flash of red, I thought my parent had it all figured out well they did pretend to do, even had answers to questions, questions they had no idea of. God help us, I was bound to grow out of that confine much earlier than required , stuffed in my mind grew bigger than my body, my shoulder, taller than my head so with my hands I picked my legs and ran, when I ran I ran fast and far enough, waif-obsessed, I brought my heart with me. I was inevitably bound to leave anyway like everyone of my breed legend has it our hearts are sworn never to return to the bed of aurora once it had left. I came out here to fight the good fight, my head in one hand and my heart in another, my talent on my neck and my dreams at my foot so I tread softly, I came out here full of hopes and dreams at the time success seemed certain and failure; the one wasted here farting in his sleep wasn’t question. If truth be told he has and he’d have more potentials than myself in ten lifetimes each after another yet here we both are, we all are, lost in the fight, our lives is a lost battle yet we relentlessly fight our way into every fight to simply fight for as long as our souls propel liquid so my condition isn’t so bad, that’s the way of the roads. By sheer chance in most unguarded of treading, arrogance and ill-fortune; I was too arrogant to take a step behind the William Butler Yeats and spread my dreams, my only wealth, beneath your feet just so you could tread carefully; carefully or otherwise I refuse to be broke or rather broker for any of you but I sure will spread my nightmares beneath your feet so you can match carefully or otherwise. I’ve drifted too far off the highway, off course even far away from the woods held half way from the land and sky in this winding road; a victim per avion but yet I say leave this survivor, his head in one hand and his heart in another, his heart may yet find its place and he may yet conquer well lest you don’t push him off the cliff he’s already standing on. Forced to unwilling content in undying darkness that bullies dawn beneath dusk, like every other day I spend on these roads in the willed shackles of narrow existence I lift my shoulder above my head this time but the city knocks it down again just like it’d constantly done with my head before I could peep into the forthcoming and maybe do the world a favour and kill myself before the future gets here and I’m the nuisance and victim I’m born and hired to be. Holler to runz gurls who keep it real and blank there shattered minds on religion and their teaching, I know, I know the least you have risen from within though your breakthrough is evidently less than the city offers its elite but pick up your shoes, tie them more than hard every night and day when  you leave for game and keep in mind their shoes are bigger and they step on and through larger and silver-laced-fortuned pedestal into certain greatness but you still tie your shoes the same manner you only need tie yours harder, and more firmly because yours are little and barely thrive through and in unbecomingly ill-fortuned pedestal which is if there is at all one, having regard to your high heels anyway which may fall into the city’s mudbank and they’d laugh you off their wicked faces beneath their feet, nonetheless; at most match them and now conceive how hard you’d have to tie your hearts to get ahead. Whatever and whichever way anyone chose do a thing to survive isn’t the right way only the successful tag the routes behind them and ahead of you. Holler to runz boys, game boys, skool 2 boys and what not, to those who have set an enviable standard for us, victimised and sodomised, to those of you who revere and respect these standards to the last breathe. Never shed a tear, never take revenge,  kill or take more, never impress; become better, never appreciate fun never submit to excitement. Taking is no sin; we live in a communist end of a capitalist world, they live of our sweats and drain us not just of blood but sweats. Give options and choices. Bishop would bid another against his will to raise his hands above his head while his scared ubiquitous eyes reflect against a twin sharpened-out-of-blunt-ends bottles then thrust and dig holes in the fertility if his armpit and watch him cry, groan till he sleeps, he would pluck a niggas life through his eyes . Yesterday, bishop drew a niggas face into a garri, luger rather while a whole bunch of brothers pinned his body to a stone, made them leave his mouth wide open so he could scream and beg with his throat then waited till he had screamed his life out and had stopped struggling he made them free him bishop blinked twice, smiled then shot his head against a bullet doom! He grew sober, wept a teardrop on his fore head after which he thought to respect the body and cleaned the tear of with 8 more bullets. He always gives them a choice, he’d ask them to promise to visit him in his sleep and tell him what its like on the other side and he’ll make there death easy and fast, he is as ruthless, a huger legend on these roads and myself, I’m like a Spanish fly to these girls. People around here so cold, my heart done gone froze yet if every place be like these roads no one would be unwanted this is the way of the roads I’m sober-tired and wound in, un I lights I’d give anything to come of this winding road but even if I could my heart wont come with me home. Regardless of all we are young, mistakes are our companion but isn’t that why there are parents to guard us but the biggest mistakes of all is to despise them, well we are most aware of this fact yet regard us as eternal sojourners on a road to self sabotage, self destruction, and most unguarded. On these roads the ‘surviver is indeed the fittest more like” an airbag is a parashoot’ alright you are permitted to look down on the language but not the speaker they might indeed make a parashoot” of your airbag, when you feel cold iron against your hostile skin in even the lightest of days, when it’d burst-loud and gust out and open your huge belly, all nylon melt in and lenses waft out of those shiny toys you ride around in. To the city we are nothing but a bunch of out of context dangerous waifs but the city itself is treacherously homeless. Like every other, highly exhorted and revered, these roads has its coy end, there is uncontrollable addiction towards violence and we are all sick, severally, sentenced looking unto inevitable darkness and death on a particular day what would your flexible thinker carry as companion if you knew yours unconscious of any other road apart from this. We do know what this excruciating feeling is its effect on our mindful conception or misconception are the behaviours you flag criminal because you are keenly handicapped of its effect on our reasoning so you shy off so be careful when you point loaded fingers at us when our frozen hearts, symptoms of coldness burn out when you cast fire to them……

A knock at the door isn’t enough to steal him off the page but the knock increases into a continual banging on the rather fragile door so he is at last stolen away but manages to catch the last line; “my soul is locked in shadows my heart is locked in as well, smoked out”. Ade’s long and pleasant sleep had been cut short too. John emerges from outside through the door with a bare and flat chest with a humble boxer pant rapped from just above his waist down a lot below his knees, the gravely unacceptable sight reduces  Ade into delight he probably believes he is still in the dream world because he had projected a colourful morning so something as dark as this can’t exactly be regarded as colourful so he purposely  illudes himself into the former , but suddenly he grasps that John’s black and bare body had infringed his view of all the colours in the room, he makes a long hiss, turns his hip with his left arm so he could face the wall then seals his eyes with the other, john yells! That babe is here! Ade immediately opens his eye lids and throws his eyes back against his skull and forth, what babe? Well I hope she deserves whatever you’ve told her because she’s out there smiling, Ade is still trying to haul himself out of sleep “I mean she was really smiling and it almost felt unpleasant for a moment there I thought I grew sexy overnight, anyway I snapped out of that thought already but it did make me feel good…so? He shows him to the door, Ade had started wondering which one it could be, but being too proud to ask he just assumes “it’s definitely her, but why on earth would she show this early” then he recalls she’d stolen his wallet the last time she came over and when he asked she said because “you left it in your pants” how genuine a motive, he discusses that with john but quietly and discreetly. Ade by now is readily furious so he hurries in the direction of the egress, well the ingress too but that’s how confused he his…where is it! Where is that feral …so that’s it, he’d just keep the “bitch” for himself as she disappointedly turns out to be the she from the drama earlier, and yes it’s a goodbye already my curiosity wonders as much as yours too but it appears the supposed discreet chat wasn’t discreet enough and had found its way to her ears, both of them. Now Ade makes honest use of the ingress to a joint on john’s lips fastened by sparks, turns out our john isn’t a john after all he snatches it while sobriety snatches him and throws him against the floor across john who had started molling another blunt the song immerses them in as they both puff some in undying silence until john breaks the silence; what sup with her? She’ll be back, they all do…eventually. Of course! So….do I really fart in my sleep? Ade nods and puffs full this time, no I don’t. “Well” this time he reasons john won’t take just a nod for an answer, why don’t you stay awake and figure that out yourself plus it does undermine the snoring though. They both resign to another long hush while…

Home sweet home

Tonight, tonight

I’m on my way

Just set me free…………………..

by Wole