My Very Open Letter To Indigenous Rapper, Olamide

First of all, let me start by saying that your music is really appreciated in my zone and we hope to hear more good music with less sex-y words(something I'm beginning to think you cant do without).

Now that said, I’ll go straight to the point. I wasn’t born in the forest so I don’t know how to beat about the bush. Recently, your Instagram page has been on fire. Let me make it clear that your Instagram page is none of my concern but your career is my business. Matter of fact, 101%. continue


It’s okay for Chris brown to wake up on the wrong side of the bed and decide to rant and curse his fans on Instagram. It’s partly acceptable because he’s got die-hard fans and by die hard, I mean people who can exchange blows for him. Secondly, these people smoke and sniff a lot of things that can’t even be spelt. I know you also smoke some kain things but let me say that when you begin to insult your fans, the same people who buy your cd, the same people who make your YouTube views add up, the same people who would say ‘True talk! God bless you’ when you say “Tomorrow na Sunday”, then my dear, you’re about to cut that career of yours by half. This is no joke. You don’t ask me to go and help my family (did they call the help line?) and then expect me to jump on your track whenever it’s released. Nah! Thanks Bro. I’d rather listen to Niko gravity or blackface.

There are better ways to ask someone to stop dropping negative vibes on you and your precious page. Or wait, you think it’s only the ‘street’ that loves you? My dear, there are Ajebutters out here who don’t even know what the streets look like that play your songs, buy your songs(Cds and Itunes) and even anticipate your album. WHY? Because you’re good at what you do (although you need to stop trying to fuse some pho-ne into your rap. DO YOU.)

In 50 years, I want to be able to tell my grandkids about a man called olamide who stole the heart of many by applying simple creativity to a music video. 28 shirts in a video is not beans. You can’t forget where you’re coming from because the guy who now supplies your weed (which by the way may now cost and weigh more) drives a jeep, wears designer by designer and has 6 packs. No. You can’t.

And yes, I AM PAINED.
Here’s the part you don’t want to hear. Ore mi, you’re now a father (In other words, popsy, role model, person papa, idol, adviser, provider, protector etc. The list is endless).You might want to triple check the things you put out there for the sake of your little man. I’m sure there’s someone out there who’s storing your wrongs in a big bag and would off load the container when the time is right. In case you aren’t aware; your pikin is in the Check-Google-for-today’s-date era. One click and all the info is in your face.

Care or care not.