In 2022, Falz was arguably one of the hardest-working Nigerian rappers alive.
At the time, he already had five albums and an EP with Simi in his catalogue, two African Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards (AMVCA) for his performances in Jenifa’s Diary (2016) and New Money (2018). But he took a breather after that—a necessary cool-down.
He could have made music like many of the coterie of musicians we had at the time, but he chose conscious music. Like his father, Femi Falana, a long-time human rights activist-lawyer, when it became time for Falz to become an activist, he embraced it.
In 2018, he released his viral freestyle “This Is Nigeria,” based on Childish Gambino’s “This Is America,” where he poked holes at the vices that have stunted the growth of the country. A year later, he released Moral Instruction, the album where he rapped on the eighth track “E No Finish”: “Corruptions and indiscipline / With no regard for the life of a citizen / Mtcheww, so sickening.”
When #EndSARS protests broke out in October 2020 with his countrymen, he took to the streets of Lagos to protest police brutality, something he knows well, having been harassed by the police himself.
So, it’s instinctive to think that, in his latest album, The Feast, which he dropped on Friday, May 30, 2025, Falz would launch another commentary on Nigeria’s problems—but his goes back to the subject matter from his heydays in songs like “Soft Work” and “Squander” where he sings about soft life, blending it with the new Falz who has waged war on moral decadence in the country.
The 12-track album opens with “Round of Applause,” where Falz rhymes briefly about man and woman matters, his safety around the Nigerian police, and an administration that finds speaking to the public beneath them. “Me, I be citizen and I must see the president / Na me put am there,” he spits on the track. He also reminds us that no one can escape Nigeria’s bad governance; it touches both the rich and the poor. “Round of Applause” is the starter that deserves the resounding gesture it asks for.
As he moves to “Old Soja” featuring Majeed, he raps about perseverance as we speak truth to power. Majeed’s chorus can be likened to Moses screaming at Pharaoh to free the Israelites from slavery, with “You for let my people go” blaring on repeat.
Falz assumes the role of the “Old Soja” that never dies in his verse and stubbornly affirms he won’t back down in the face of oppression. It’s a personal statement in which he synthesises metaphors and scenarios to restate his political standing.
On “Anything Goes,” where he features OdumoduBlvck, one of the hottest Nigerian rappers of the moment, he comes knocking with the invincible attitude that one would expect from a revitalised Falz. “Dem don dey kill us…but we no be idiot,” he declares.
On “No Less,” he leans deeper into his culture, joining a long line of Yoruba musicians, including Asake and Seyi Vibez, who have been part of the resurgence of Fuji music. He samples Sikiru ‘Barrister’ Ayinde’s “Fuji Garbage,” from which the song also derives its title.
“Famomi” begins with DoTTi the Deity, telling his lover to draw closer to him. Whether the intent is a song a significant other could jam to while they go to sleep or wake up to, it’s a sweet cup of romance. If “Famomi” is a time-winding, cosy intimate moment tune, the next track, “Slow Down,” featuring Qing Madi, conjures the feelings that kick in when lovers are out to paint the town red with romance.
Falz gets jiggy, flirty, braggadocious, and motivational on “Jump.” He’s in the company of women, having fun and poking at the introverts at the party. But not without subbing people who are “hating on the boy for no reason.”
On “Wonderfully Made,” featuring twin sisters and singers Oiza and Meyi, Falz is barefaced, as he aims to tackle body positivity, but ends up dividing women into two categories, based on their body types—“Orobo” and “lepa”—one of the oldest tropes in Nigerian music. “I dey like Orobo BBW / When I see lepa, I just dey act a fool,” he sings. What he doesn’t imagine is all the bodies in between.
The man who sang in “Child Of the World” (2019) that “Many “belle” she don get, she don terminate / Queen “Runs girl”, she no get any competition / Gomina, Senator, she’s giving every politician / Somebody tell am say the consequences no dey likely / Until she tested positive to HIV” had always been in the shadows.
The album gets into party mode on “Dance With You,” where Falz wheedles a lady to boogie down with him and, by extension, be his lover. He resurrects the spirit of Fela Kuti on “Wayo,” which samples “Jeun Ko Ku (Chop ‘N’ Quench)” (1971). Falz borrows Fela’s “eat and die” rhetoric, which holds politicians and public officials in power who feel entitled to “the national cake” accountable.
But what’s Afrobeats without some smug brags and raps about ass. The production is fiery, and American rapper D Smoke is zealous like a Black Panther ready to get to work on the streets of Selma.
“Eat” is the second-to-the-last track, and it speaks to the hunger for everything desirable, from money to women, to the soft life. But he cautions moderation and common sense. Good advice, but it’s a filler. If not for its bouncy logdrums and head-bopping flows, it’s a skip straight to the closing track.
The album ends with “Story Time,” the closest we come to knowing Folarin Falana as he takes us to the creation story of Falz TheBahdGuy. Growing up, he dreamed of being a footballer. In his university days in the icy city of London, he began to nurture his love for music, which ultimately led to the birth of TheBahdGuy. We come to learn that his hit, “This Is Nigeria,” was meant to be just a freestyle. But it offered the momentum which he wisely grabbed to release Moral Instruction.
Though it’s still celebrated as a classic in contemporary Nigerian conscious music, Falz presents it as an opportunity grab.
The Feast is a return to old fire but with new flames. Falz burns with the zeal that solidified him as one of the best rappers in the land. It’s a lively project. In the soundscape in which The Feast exists, no musician should dare initiate a claim about being the most delightful Nigerian rapper without cooking captivating, fun, and relatable tunes like Falz has done with this album.
This album isn’t exactly ”a thorough playlist cleanse” as he described in a tweet, but it’s an enjoyable rap album, a banquet for his fans. The guy who made those “Ello Bae” skits is gone.
Now that he has stripped away his comic alter-ego that brought him to fame, from his music, he might need something strong enough to keep him unforgettable. For Falz to rise again, he will need to pull his music even further into the mainstream, or, like he did before, pull the centre to him.
Falz may not be the hardworking rapper he was five years ago, but he’s far from done.
