HOW A-Q’s GE3 (THE BEGINNING) ALBUM DEPICTS THE ROTTEN STATE OF NIGERIA’S RAP MUSIC

At first listen, A-Q’s delivery can feel almost jarring in its simplicity in that it is stripped of the lush, layered beat that dominates Nigeria’s mainstream soundscape. For some, this sonic austerity explains why his monthly listeners lag behind the averages of his peers. However, a closer listen reveals that his music is intentionally crafted for a select audience, those who prize transparency, depth, and meaning over fleeting vibes. It’s this very quality that makes his work feel like a glitch in the matrix, a staunch reminder that music can still serve as a vessel of truth. In A-Q’s hands, music is both a mirror and a scalpel, exposing the excesses and ills of the industry as well as its artistes while offering an alternative vision of endurance. God’s Engineering 3 (GE3)(The Beginning) embodies this ethos fully in that it is less of a traditional album and more of a stark allegory of the contemporary Nigerian music industry’s current state and a challenge to the values it celebrates.

For over a decade, A-Q has remained one of Nigeria’s most consistent rappers, his reputation built on razor-sharp wordplay and an unwavering fidelity to truth-telling, earning him his devoted, cult-like following. GE3(The Beginning) lands as a deliberate disruption. The album, the third in his God’s Engineering series, is less a collection of songs than a statement of truth. To fully appreciate the excellence and weight of this album, there is a definite need to situate it within the country’s current sonic landscape, where emphasis is placed more on rhythm, vibe, and instant gratification as opposed to lyrical storytelling. In such an atmosphere, GE3(The Beginning) has a near countercultural feel, reminding those able to listen and pay attention to its content that music should be a vessel for meaning as well as entertainment.

Take Ramlat Timson Str. where A-Q sings that “While others rushed for quick wins/Some stayed patient/Laying bricks in silence…../What you’re hearing now isn’t luck or timing/It’s the sound of the payoff”. Here, A-Q situated his career as a slow-burning triumph of patience over industry shortcuts, setting the thematic tone for all other tracks on the album, with titles synonymous with what he’s learnt about being an artiste as well as what it means to stay true to one’s craft. GE3 is not about a new cat who’s trying to prove himself but about a veteran who has seen the failures of the system firsthand and insists on exposing them, giving listeners an inkling into A-Q’s ipseity.

Who’s Really Rapping sees A-Q asking a blunt, rhetorical question, “What really happened to rapping?” and this frames the entire track. Thanks to Blaqbonez’s lyrical nod as well as production that enjoins listeners to be more incisive of the music industry, A-Q critiques the Nigerian music scene. Short lines like “You not Megan, you not Oprah” and “Don’t call my phone, you no be shot caller” puncture the hollow bravado of artistes who are more invested in appearances than skill, while boasting about “bank
balance and bank statements” serve less as empty flexes than as evidence of what patience and discipline can produce.

This critique further takes centre stage on Class vs Clout, where he sings “Nigga leave alone/ This is class not clout/ You’re on your mobile phone/ Typing for some clout/ I’m making money moves/ Me I no fit shout”. On Proud of Life, A-Q distills a moment of raw introspection and anchoring self-worth in survival itself with the help of Ajebo Hustlers and Qing Madi. The latter’s, with lyrics like “I’m not proud of my life yea/So I roll up a joint/Lucky I’m still alive yea/Though I’m feeling among”, focuses on resilience over vanity while Ajebo Hustlers’ melodic hook widens the track’s reach and helps to reframe the pride as an affirmation of lessons learnt over a decade in the music industry. A-Q reminds listeners to be grateful for being alive rather than always being boastful.

A-Q’s disdain for vanity-driven artistry is clear throughout the album, most potently on his Terry Apala-assisted Read The Signs, where he complains “good music no dey pap pay pay pay/ E no be like the olden days (3x)/ We just focus on the pay pay”. These songs cut to the heart of A-Q’s argument, which is, being an artist today is often defined by profit margins rather than consistency, sacrifice and vision, the blueprint that earlier generations of music greats used to shape and hone their craft. His delivery balances braggadocio with lament, suggesting that after more than a decade in the industry, during
which time “Choc City was my day job/I never took a day off/Blaqbonez made it and finally music paid off/……../W’s and L’s my life was looking like the playoffs” (off Ramlat Timson Str.), he has earned the right to speak with authority. The weight of his experience makes his concerns impossible to dismiss and his words are both complaints and warnings.

With Lost In Translation, assisted by Kabex, A-Q explains what it means to fail in that the “The lessons of an L is more powerful than a win”, plain and simple. He also critiques the modern music scene’s focus, where, once an artiste is blown, failure is not acceptable. To A-Q, failure is a platform to learn, even as a celebrity. “The L we took in the loss symbolize LION” and that “So ninu pride wa la ti n shoko fun gbogbo yin (Because of our pride, we are able to act as husbands to you all)”, these line symbolise what he has learnt, before and after fame, to confidently declare his ability to guide, protect and provide for any and all upcoming artistes in terms of industry experience.

In Die By It, Bkay EastGaad offers an assist to A-Q, who cautions others by telling them that “You can live by the streets but you don’t have to die by it/Never put your life on it”. This point is bolstered by the picturesque retelling of the mob violence and roughness he experienced himself with lyrics like “OPC burning bodies on the main road/……/I watched Kazeem’s brother burn/…./No man should bare the brunt of an angry mob”. The song also contains a redemptive arc, particularly “hip-hop was my medicine”, he sings. A-Q saw music as more than a vehicle to propel his career but as a moral alternative to the demotic vices that influenced his childhood. The use of imagery like “Pato’s shop was the settlement” with friends and “Got older and I hung with conductors cause they knew stuff” becomes less about him feeling nostalgic and more about remembering the minute lessons and experiences that built the originality of his cadence, suggesting to artistes not to romanticise life on the streets but allow themselves to be transformed by it for their greater good.

Off the album’s 8th track, R.O.I, A-Q dishes out an intense indictment of the industry consumption and short-term thinking. He also fires shots at his peers who scramble to emulate opulence “Look at how they’re struggling/Sold their cars couldn’t keep up with the opulence/Sold their soul without proofreading the documents/Bentley and G-Wagon now funds insufficient”. He follows this up with a spiritual tension over this critique by saying “I know you might never shake my hand/The root cause of the matter was industry plants/……/Same lips you use to pray/Depends on what the reaper says”, reminding upcoming artistes and informing listeners of the moral compromise and manipulation which goes on in the industry as well as the unforgiving nature of the said reaper. He names Bkay, who squandered resources, and Spyro, who he helped make half a million, citing these real-world failures and successes as examples of what he describes as hollowness versus principled hustle.

Class of ‘66 is a historical uncovering which adopts imagery to describe Nigeria’s first coup and the chaos of that era. However, it also works as a metaphor as a pattern of rise and fall which takes place not only in nations but in music and culture. A-Q mirrors the violence of that regime against the violence of erasure in the music industry, where artistes are quickly replaced or forgotten if they don’t conform to the latest trends. The consequence of this, he implies, is the lack of musical dexterity. The track schools
everyone on what happens when short-term ambition overtakes long-term vision.

The diaristic nature of Note To Self doubles as a survival manual. Here, A-Q speaks to his future self, hoping that his sacrifices and decisions of today make sense in the future before his music and persona outlive relevance and its meaning is understood. With “One Last Time”, A-Q taps DwinTheStoic to deliver a solid finish to the album. The track’s lyrics read as a farewell, probably of an era or relationship but it is also layered with rebirth, a “last time” that makes way for a new beginning. It feels like A-Q is consciously
placing an end to this “book”, telling listeners that every chapter must end but ending is not the same as defeat, with “My faith in God is all I need”.

GE3(The Beginning) leans a lot into core rap production, particularly with boom-bap aesthetics. A-Q also maintains a consistent sonic palette, opting for the use of minimalistic, raw beats that focus more on his lyrical dexterity than flashy instrumentation. The album’s sequencing shines in its thematic cohesion with A-Q, depicting his journey from amateur to OG in the music industry without straying from his path as a rapper or watering down his sound.

One of the most striking realities that frames how GE3(The Beginning) is received is how much the Nigerian music audience, as well as the many artistes, and other individuals involved, have shifted their appetite. Where earlier generations of listeners once gravitated towards music as a vehicle for social reflection and wisdom, the contemporary soundscape dictates that club bops and bangers are the mainstay, leading to a “cultural recession” of sorts. A-Q’s offering demands attention. GE3 is calling for a rehabilitation and reinvention of the industry. A-Q also uses the album to express angst about the future, making it a work of art that you can’t half-listen to while doomscrolling on Instagram or reading a book. It requires a pause, willingness to sit down to learn and readiness to hear the weight of lived experiences which have been interwoven into every element, word and production. This may also be precisely why it receives less recognition than it ordinarily deserves.

The disparity that exists between what A-Q offers and what is obtainable in the current Nigerian music industry points to a larger question about our cultural values as a country. If the audience continues to favor vanity over substance, then music, which is supposed to educate, heal and inspire, runs the risk of being lost in the noise of the industry. GE3(The Beginning) illustrates that the Nigerian audience is at a crossroads, caught between music as a fleeting means of entertainment and music as an enduring record of truth.

Written by: Olumuyiwa Aderemi