“Una Dey Talk for This Social Media O” – Flavour Shuts Down Fan Who Says He Made Better Music When He Was Broke

In an age where artists are judged as much by their past struggles as their current status, Nigerian highlife sensation Flavour N’abania is once again trending—this time, not for a hit single or a surprise collaboration, but for clapping back at a fan who seemed to romanticize his days of financial struggle. The singer, known for his deep roots in traditional sounds and infectious stage charisma, found himself at the center of a viral X (formerly Twitter) exchange that sparked a storm of reactions across the Nigerian social media space.

It all started when a fan, going by the handle @udehenugu, decided to stir the pot with a tweet that seemed half-nostalgic, half-disrespectful. “Prime Flavour no one comes close. Your rent was due man,” the user tweeted, referring to Flavour’s early days in the music industry when he was still hustling his way to the top and creating songs that are now considered classics. The implication was clear: struggle breeds creativity, and Flavour’s “broke” days were, in the fan’s view, his musical golden era.

Flavour, whose real name is Chinedu Okoli, didn’t let the comment slide. With the finesse and subtle sarcasm fans have come to love, he replied: “Nna na win or win that year o.” A statement that felt like a coded reminder to fans that success didn’t change the essence of his art—it simply evolved. Yet, that didn’t stop the fan from doubling down, tweeting again: “I wish you can go broke again so you can give us these classics.” The comment instantly split social media users down the middle.

But Flavour had the last word: “Una dey talk for this social media o.” A short but scathing response that wrapped the whole conversation in a neat bow of reality check and subtle contempt. It was as if Flavour stepped off his highlife throne for a second, peered into the online crowd, and reminded everyone that it’s easy to criticize from the comfort of a data-enabled phone.

The exchange didn’t just go viral—it opened the floodgates to a broader conversation about the pressures artists face to remain “authentic” in the eyes of fans who often glorify their suffering. For Flavour, who has painstakingly built his brand from playing drums in local churches to headlining international concerts and being dubbed the "Flavour of Africa," this wasn’t just banter. It was a declaration that his music isn’t defined by poverty, but by passion, consistency, and evolution.

Across X, Facebook, and Instagram, fans took sides. Some agreed with @udehenugu, reminiscing over tracks like “Nwa Baby (Ashawo),” “Adamma,” and “Kwarikwa,” which, they argued, carried more raw emotion and cultural depth than some of his more polished, recent work. Others defended the Enugu-born star, saying the fan’s comment was not only tone-deaf but reeked of entitlement.

“People love to worship struggle as if success ruins artistry,” one user wrote. “Flavour is still putting out good music. Just because he’s not suffering doesn’t mean he’s lost his touch.”

Another fan posted: “Una dey wish person bad luck because of music? You want him to go broke so he can entertain you? That’s wickedness in disguise.”

The incident echoes a larger issue many Nigerian and African entertainers face: the expectation to remain perpetually grounded in hardship to maintain “authenticity.” For an artist like Flavour, whose music has matured along with his life experiences, growth should be celebrated, not punished.

Despite the clapback, Flavour hasn’t let the exchange deter his online presence. On his X page, the artist continues to engage with fans, post behind-the-scenes videos of upcoming projects, and share family moments, showing that while he may laugh at the occasional social media jab, his focus remains on what truly matters—his music, his legacy, and his evolution.

The singer’s current projects include mentorship roles, highlife preservation campaigns, and international shows that aim to introduce Igbo traditional music to global audiences. Unlike many artists who pivot away from their roots after tasting fame, Flavour has doubled down on his cultural heritage, infusing it with modern production and a pan-African flair.

But if there’s one thing this episode has made clear, it’s the deep emotional connection fans have with artists' humble beginnings. There’s something about watching someone rise from the streets to stardom that makes people feel personally invested. Unfortunately, that investment often comes with unrealistic expectations—like hoping someone becomes broke again just to recreate the vibe of a different era.

The irony of it all is that while fans demand vulnerability and rawness from their favorite stars, they sometimes forget that artists are humans, too—humans who want better lives, stability, and progress. Telling Flavour he was better off when he couldn’t pay rent is not only a slap in the face to his journey, but also a flawed notion that art and struggle must always go hand-in-hand.

At the end of the day, Flavour’s witty response, “Una dey talk for this social media o,” wasn’t just a clapback—it was a mic drop. A reminder that while social media gives everyone a voice, not every opinion deserves applause. And if there’s anything we’ve learned from Flavour’s steady climb to the top, it’s this: greatness doesn’t need to beg for relevance. It simply adapts, evolves, and endures.

Whether broke or balling, Flavour remains a legend whose music has crossed borders, broken language barriers, and stood the test of time. And as long as he keeps dropping the rhythms that get bodies moving and hearts soaring, no tweet can define his legacy.