BigSammy😎🤍

Fun fact: The person wey dey fuvk your babe no dey text am everyday The guy dey nonchalant like werey😂

Sex is the closest you’ll ever get to someone’s soul and you people just turned it into a hobby💔

Jesus Christ is the reason for the season. Happy Easter!

@Famousclipper10 @ibrahntale1 @funny_kante 😭

@ibrahntale1 @funny_kante wetin you deh talk, see your profile picture like who rapture don take

Ruth if you like crush on me from now till the end of life, you can still never be my type You wey be like millipede

@Doyinabiolaa 🙏

@olatech_14 I will never ever be poor Amen

I WILL NEVER BE POOR I WILL NEVER BE POOR I WILL NEVER BE POOR I WILL NEVER BE POOR I WILL NEVER BE POOR

@Doyinabiolaa No gree o

I was dating this girl…she decided to visit me after pleading for weeks,things got hot and romantic and she said,“Don’t use protection, I know my way around it.”I pleaded,I begged,i even tried to reason with her. She laughed and said, “Relax, I got this.” A few weeks later… she calls crying thats she's pregnant,and the baby is mine, and suddenly I’m the villain,asking why I poured inside of her that i’ve spoiltt her life!.coming from a girl that told me not to use protection. That also assured me it was safe. And now I’m the bad guy? Now she's telling me she cannot abort,that its their family taboo...Honestly I will never accept the baby because it was all her fault

I'm crying like wtf is happening 😭🤣

As a diehard fan of Olamide a.k.a Baddo, who has been listening to Omah Lay since 2019, that guy deserves some accolades, please. I won't be talking about the album in its entirety, but I'll reference “I Am.” That song should be listed as one of the greatest songs of Omah. The song title alone is mind-blowing, putting it at a pace of interest. He literally commanded self-worth in a thousand dimensions with just a few lines. Gosh! This isn't about loving the song 😆, it's about representing it in words: the sound, melody, rhythm, beats, lyrics, undisputable vocals, word structuring, feelings & vibe with the powerful relatability drive. Accolades please! 👏👏👏 Let's dissect the chorus and hook like anatomists 😆 “I am I am who I am, I am who I am...” (Affirmation meets confidence). Don't trip, guys 😁 Nobody fresh like I am Nobody sweet like I am Nobody cool like I am Nobody high like I am Nobody vibe like I am Nobody do it like I am... (basically commanding his sweetness and ego). Hmm 🤔 Everybody know say smoking is dangerous (creating awareness) But once I see mar!jua; I go light am (personal decision) Money is the root of evil; every day I pack am (literally making money even though it's evil, ọmọ na the struggle jare 😂) Hey, there's too many thoughts in my head, but I keep it all to myself (emotional but reflective). Hmm 🤔 Better keep your ass in one place (this is smoke 🔥) You don't know who you're fu!Kin' with (this is charisma speaking 🙊) This is just me talking about the “beautiful chorus/hook” (and that's me keeping it low). Isn't that unbelievable and spectacular 😆!!! Music is beautiful, guys... I'll be quoting the continuity 🤗🫵 #IAM #CLARITYOFMIND #omahlay

I GRIND LIKE A FAILURE WHILE I AN WINNING🤔

Do you know why folks make me thier role model ? I grind like a FAILURE while I'm "WINNING".

They saw his weight… one person saw his worth— and that’s where a champion was born. I can feel his joy just by watching him 👏

To everyone building houses to let and making the rooms look like a dog cage I pray u will receive the same portion of space if u go to heaven/hell.

Maybe she should have just complied, like Black men are expected to.

Fun fact: The person wey dey fuvk your babe no dey text am everyday The guy dey nonchalant like werey😂

I pray you heal from  the things 🤕🤕🤕 when you no dey talk about 🤐🤐🫂

Please guys, avoid online dating. I traveled from Ibadan to Accra to meet a pregnant woman. 😭💔

@dahyor_tweet Normal

@olatech_14 Work sha oo

Let me tell you about the day my dad lost his dad my grandfather, during the dark suffocating years of General Sani Abacha’s military dictatorship in the mid-1990s. It was a time when fear hung over Nigeria like a heavy cloud. The regime was ruthless: it crushed dissent, silenced voices, detained and eliminated anyone seen as a threat, and turned the military itself into a place of suspicion and silent suffering. Many brave soldiers who served with honour found themselves caught in dangerous assignments, internal purges, or unexplained missions that the regime demanded. Families paid the price with broken hearts while the nation bled. One particular night, my dad called his mother first using the unreliable landline, the only real option back then, since mobile phones were almost unheard of for ordinary families. They talked for about thirty minutes. During the conversation, she told him she didn’t know what was wrong with her. Her body was giving her strange signs she couldn’t explain, perhaps the constant dread and anxiety that many military wives endured under Abacha’s iron grip, where bad news could come at any moment. She also mentioned that the barracks flag had been lowered to half-mast that evening. In Nigerian Army barracks, everyone knew exactly what that meant: a soldier had died in service. But under that regime, such deaths often carried heavier, unspoken weights of dangerous operations, suspicious circumstances, or the heavy atmosphere of fear where loyalty was questioned and lives could be sacrificed without explanation. My dad tried to comfort her. “It’s probably just stress, Mama. Just get some rest, it’s already late at night.” His voice was calm, but his heart must have tightened. After they ended the call, he tried reaching his father, but the number wasn’t going through. That was common in those days NITEL lines were always failing, networks were poor, and soldiers on special duties often had restricted communication, especially under Abacha’s watchful security apparatus. He called his mother back and asked if she had spoken to him that day. She said yes that they had talked in the morning, and my grandfather promised to call her again at night once he could find a better line. But she had been trying his number since then without success. My dad reassured her it was probably the usual network problems or operational secrecy that the regime enforced, and they both went to bed, heavy with unspoken worry. The next morning, my dad had an early lecture at university, so he left quickly and went straight to school. Around 9 a.m., while he was seated in the lecture room, his mother tried desperately to reach him. He couldn’t pick up because class was ongoing. By the time the lecture ended around 10 a.m., there were over ten missed calls from her. He tried calling back many times, but she wasn’t answering. He thought she might be busy with something at home, though a quiet fear was already stirring inside him amid the tension of those years. After his second lecture, around 12 p.m., they announced that the next class had been cancelled. He decided to head home. When he arrived, he saw his younger sister sitting outside the house, waiting for him. She was dressed completely in black, a sight that sent chills down his spine even before she spoke. He asked her, “What are you doing here?” She replied, trying to sound steady, “I came to pick you up. Dad is at home, and he’s supposed to head back to Maiduguri today, so he wants to see you before he leaves.” But my dad noticed something terribly wrong. Her voice was flat and broken, her eyes avoided his, and her hands trembled. He told her he had seen his mom’s missed calls and had been trying to reach her, but she didn’t pick up. His sister quickly said that was why she was sent to get him, because he wasn’t answering. He quickly dropped his bag inside the house and followed her, still clinging to the hope that he would return the same day or the next. 👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

@fw_femisire Me too o

I want you forever and my intentions are pure— Dear BTC