Olamide Returns: A Decade Later, Baddo Shuts Down Wembley

In the heart of London’s pulsating nightlife, where the ghosts of global icons like Drake and Adele still echo through the rafters, Olamide Adedeji, better known as Olamide-Baddo, stormed the OVO Arena Wembley on November 23, 2025, and carved his name into the venue’s storied history as the first African rapper to sell out its 12,500-capacity stage. Olamide’s presence at the arena was a coronation nearly a decade in the making, a return to a city he hadn’t headlined solo since the mid-2010s, and a reminder that the streets never forget their king. Five hours of unrelenting fire, a 50-song sweep through two decades of dominance, and a parade of collaborators turned what could’ve been a triumphant homecoming into a seismic cultural moment for Afrobeats.

The spectacle began long before he touched the mic. In a flourish that married Lagos swagger with London theatre, Olamide rolled onto the stage inside a vintage 1958 Jaguar XK150, headlights cutting through the smoke as the crowd roared. Then came the bassline of “Lagos Boys”, thundering through the speakers like a call to order. Clad in a sleek ash ensemble that radiated quiet authority, he dove headfirst into a sprawling catalogue that felt less like a setlist and more like an autobiography—street-hop roots, Fuji-tinted grit, and pop-polished global hits.

By the time he hit the euphoric drop of “Infinity” and early runs like “Durosoke”, “Konkobility”, and “Motigbana”, the arena was a sea of waving flags and jumping bodies, with no empty seats in sight. It was a reminder of Baddo’s unparalleled hit factory: tracks like “Science Student” recreated its iconic video choreography with laser precision, while “Who You Epp” sparked a call-and-response frenzy that drowned out the sound system.

When he slipped into “Stupid Love”, “Melo Melo”, and “The Money”, the crowd sang like they’d been rehearsing for years. And as the night thickened, he eased into an unreleased love ballad before sliding into “Rock”, a move that confirmed he still has new chapters to unfold.

But the real alchemy was in the transitions. The Fuji segment—“Eleda Mi”, “Jale”, “Fuji House”—was more than a genre pivot but a tribute to the genre that also fully captured Olamide’s immense contribution to the music industry. He wove in nods to legends like Pasuma, K1, and Obesere, earning roars from older fans tucked into the upper tiers. Then came the body-shaking Afrobeats run: “Pawon”, “Update”, and “Owo Tabua”, each sounding bigger, fuller, and almost ceremonial inside the arena. Confetti cannons snapped, lights strobed, and for minutes at a time, Wembley felt like Oshodi on a festive night.

Yet for all the scale, there were moments of intimacy. Midway through, Olamide stopped the music to check on a fan who looked unwell, pausing the show completely until security arrived. It was a small, human gesture in the middle of a giant machine, and the audience responded with a wave of applause. Later, with a sly smile, he threw a jab at online naysayers claiming he’d “fallen off”, smirking before saying, “Won de ni baba iya won oni fans mo…wo ni shorire”, transforming the moment into a communal victory lap for everyone who’s believed in him since his Bariga beginnings.

What elevated this from great to legendary were the guests—a who’s who of Afrobeats’ past, present, and future, handpicked to honour Baddo’s role as the ultimate unifier. First up: Asake, the YBNL protégé turned global sensation, who surprised everyone with a fiery reunion on “99”, their chemistry crackling like and infecting the crowd. The duo’s back-and-forth had fans screaming, a poignant full-circle moment after Asake’s meteoric rise. Seyi Vibez joined them on stage before delivering the gritty “Shaolin” with raw emotion, his baritone cutting through a crowd that was now in uproar.

Bella Shmurda brought the street edge with “Cash App”, his high-energy bounce syncing perfectly with Olamide’s “Loading” for an impromptu cypher that felt organic, not orchestrated.

The surprises kept rolling: Lojay ignited the room with “Monalisa”, his silky vocals layering over Olamide’s ad-libs in a seamless blend of R&B flirtation and trap menace. Lil Kesh, the OG YBNL loyalist, revived “Shoki” nostalgia, jumping onstage for a throwback medley that had aunties in the crowd two-stepping like it was 2014. Pheelz, ever the hitmaker, joined for “Fada Fada”, his production wizardry live-translated into keyboard flourishes that added soulful depth. Joeboy’s smooth performance injected pop polish, and Poco Lee’s dance extravaganza during “Bobo” turned the stage into an even more entertaining show.

Darkoo repped the UK-Naija fusion with a gritty “Gangsta”, her London accent adding gritty authenticity, and Ashidapo closed the guest parade with highlife-tinged vibes on “Goons Mi”, bridging Olamide’s indigenous roots to the arena’s international pulse. Backstage, the energy spilt over: DJ Spinall and Enimoney manned the decks, Adesope and Toki lurked in the wings, and even content creator Peller popped up (despite a brief security dust-up that Olamide graciously addressed with a DM the next morning).

After the show, Olamide was handed a plaque for selling out the arena. As the lights swirled over the exiting audience, the message was unmistakable. Olamide’s OVO Wembley show was bigger than an artist or an album cycle. It was about him, his legacy.

By the time he closed with the eternal crowd-quake “Wo”, voices were hoarse, feet sore, and hearts full. And as 12,500 people spilt into the cold November night, one truth lingered in the air about how one man’s stubborn commitment to authenticity built an empire that now fills global arenas.