Renowned Nigerian rapper and social commentator Tobechukwu Melvin Ejiofor, popularly known as Illbliss, has raised serious concerns about the state of the nation, warning that Nigeria is currently in a perilous phase of its history. In a recent appearance on The Real Shareholders Podcast, the veteran rapper did not hold back as he dissected the complex web of insecurity, economic instability, corruption, and growing propaganda that he believes is weakening Nigeria’s democracy and silencing critical voices.
Speaking with evident passion, Illbliss reflected on his personal experiences with censorship and described how his conscious music, which aims to spotlight the ills in society, has been systematically shut out from the airwaves.
“I had this record in 2020 called Country. It was taken off the radio,” he revealed. “Before Country, I released other conscious songs like A Different Kind of War and National Cake. But OAPs (On-Air Personalities) are always saying they cannot play such songs because they could get fined.”
For Illbliss, the silencing of politically aware music is not merely a matter of editorial preference—it is a deliberate strategy to suppress dissent and shield the ruling elite from accountability.
“We are in a very dangerous part of our history,” he warned. “This government is now using digital propaganda tools to match our energy. We thought social media would empower us to speak truth to power, but they’ve found ways to infiltrate that too.”
He went on to describe a troubling new trend where orchestrated online attacks target outspoken citizens and artists who dare to challenge the status quo.
“Every now and then, you put out a record and you see like a hundred or more tweets come at you like, ‘Why are you always trying to make a mockery of the country? The country is not as bad as it is,’” he explained. “And you just know that it is artificial pushback—perhaps a coordinated digital response meant to discredit you.”
Illbliss, widely respected for his lyrical depth and social consciousness, suggested that the government is investing heavily in sophisticated propaganda machinery, including podcasts, influencers, and social media personalities, to shape public perception and drown out criticism.
“Propaganda isn’t just on traditional media anymore,” he said. “Today, propagandists can run podcasts where they say things like, ‘This government has created jobs. This government is doing great.’ And you’ll see people—some from our own generation—sit there proudly, with their faces showing, saying it with conviction. It’s scary.”
His words resonate at a time when many Nigerians are grappling with a convergence of crises. From the rising cost of living and persistent insecurity to the recent reports of widespread corruption within public institutions, public frustration is mounting. Yet, according to Illbliss, those who speak up are often labelled unpatriotic or enemies of progress.
He also highlighted the fear that grips the mainstream media, forcing many radio and TV stations to self-censor in order to avoid regulatory sanctions.
“It’s not just fear. It’s survival,” Illbliss said. “These OAPs are scared. They can’t play a song that criticizes the government. They might lose their licenses or their jobs. That’s the reality we live in now.”
Known for weaving social justice narratives into his music, Illbliss has consistently used his platform to advocate for equity, transparency, and youth empowerment. Songs like Different Kind of War—a metaphor for systemic injustice—and National Cake, a hard-hitting critique of Nigeria’s endemic corruption, have earned him a loyal fan base among conscious listeners.
But his commitment to activism has come at a cost. In addition to being blacklisted from major radio stations, the rapper claims he is frequently trolled online by accounts that appear to be part of a larger disinformation strategy.
“You begin to wonder,” he said. “Has the government started to fund distraction theories? Are they building a counter-movement online to neutralize activists and confuse citizens?”
He likened the current situation to psychological warfare, where truth is no longer determined by facts but by who has the loudest voice—and the biggest platform.
“This government is a lot more advanced now,” he cautioned. “Look around us. Insecurity is at its peak, the naira is falling, and people are barely surviving. Yet you open social media and see curated content saying things are getting better. It’s disorienting.”
Illbliss urged Nigerians not to be swayed by government-sponsored narratives and instead focus on the harsh realities they face daily.
“You can’t gaslight an entire country forever,” he said. “People are hungry. People are angry. And you can’t tweet that away.”
Despite the hurdles, the rapper reaffirmed his commitment to continue making music that speaks the truth and represents the struggles of ordinary Nigerians.
“I’ll never stop telling our stories,” he declared. “Even if they take my songs off radio, they can’t silence the message. Conscious music is resistance. It’s truth. And it will always find a way to reach the people.”
As Nigeria grapples with rising authoritarian tendencies and shrinking civic spaces, Illbliss’s commentary underscores the urgent need for transparency, press freedom, and the protection of artistic expression.
His warning is clear: Nigeria is navigating a critical crossroads, and only by remaining vigilant, informed, and unafraid can its citizens safeguard democracy and demand accountability from those in power.
For Illbliss, the fight for a better Nigeria isn’t just about music—it’s a mission. And even in the face of censorship and coordinated attacks, his voice remains firm, unwavering, and necessary.
