ART, IDENTITY, BUSINESS & LEGACY WITH FIMI

Every rapper has their origin story — but Fimi’s began with Disney, not the streets. Let It Shine, the 2012 musical, wasn’t just a feel-good flick for her; it was a portal. One she stepped through and never looked back. Today, she stands out as one of the most exciting female voices in Nigerian rap, recently spotlighted by Amped as one to watch.

But behind the growing buzz is a woman piecing together art, identity, business, and legacy — with deliberate fire. In this conversation, Fimi breaks down her creative process, her thoughts on women in rap, her bold sound, and what the future holds.

Let’s start from the roots—who is Fimí when the mic is off and the crowd is gone? 

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Off-stage, I’m introspective, shockingly reserved, and sometimes a bit goofy. I like deep convos and repeated actions like watching the same tv show(s) all year round, and plotting world domination one idea at a time.

Music is a big part of me, but I’m also just a girl from Osogbo who loves to eat good food and enjoy my personal space where I get to talk to myself like I’m on a podcast. 

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How did your journey into music, and particularly rap, begin? Was there a defining moment when you knew this was it? 

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It started young by the church piano where I’d sing/rap over prerecorded beats. But the moment it clicked was after watching Let It Shine in 2012. I memorized all the raps. Something about seeing that story unfold made me say, “Yeah, this is it.” That, and the way rap gave me a voice when I didn’t feel heard. 

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As a woman in the Nigerian rap scene—a space that can sometimes feel male-dominated—how have you carved out your own lane? 

By not waiting for permission. I don’t tone myself down or try to blend in. I show up fully authentic, ALWAYS. 

My sound, my pen, and my presence speaks for me. Plus, I bring a perspective they can’t replicate. I’m not trying to be “the female version” or “Naija version” of anyone. I’m just Fimí.

Do you ever feel pressure to “rap like a man” or prove yourself in ways your male counterparts don’t have to? 

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Initially, yes. There’s always that unspoken expectation to be twice as hard just to be considered equal. But I’ve stopped rapping to prove something to men. The pen proves itself. I rap to tell my truth and encourage the young girls watching. If they feel seen, encouraged and hyped when they hear/see me, I’ve done my job. 

Regardless, shoutout to everyone killing it in the game.

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You have a distinct voice and style. When you're writing or recording, what kind of headspace do you like to be in? 

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I like to be as clear headed as possible, with a bit of meditation to help me stay tapped in. I write whatever feels true in that moment. 

It’s quite hard to explain because it feels more like a spiritual experience. 

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What does a Fimí studio session look like—are you the “vibe first, lyrics later” kind or the “bars before beats” type? 

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Bars first. I usually have a line or a concept before the beat even lands. But once the beat’s there, I might tweak things to sit better. I treat words like sculpture—I carve till it hits right. “Fimí with the flow” for a reason, am I right?