The Nigerian music industry is known for its polish, its power moves and carefully-curated celebrity personas, but one man has continued to defy the norms with raw energy, unfiltered outbursts, and a strong connection to the streets of Lagos: Habeeb Okikiola Badmus, better known to the world as Portable.
Since bursting onto the scene in 2021 with his anthem, “ZaZoo Zehh”, Portable’s rise has been as controversial as it has been awe-inspiring. Against every prediction that he would fade away, get cancelled or burn out, he has done the opposite: evolved, adapted, and somehow stayed relevant—all without a major label deal or corporate machinery behind him.
Born and raised in the gritty town of Otta in Ogun State, Portable had no formal structure around his career. He was never part of the Lagos music clique, didn’t climb the underground circuit and certainly didn’t win any reality TV show. What he did have was raw talent, street credibility and an instinct for grabbing attention—good or bad. “ZaZoo Zehh”, his breakout single featuring Olamide and dancer Poco Lee, dropped in December 2021 and became an instant underground hit; loud, frenetic and unpolished, it captured the chaotic but exciting energy of Nigeria’s street-pop scene.
Portable’s raspy delivery on the track and his eccentric dance moves in the music video made the song go viral across Nigeria, and other parts of the diaspora. But the moment wasn’t without its mess.
Within weeks of blowing up, Portable publicly accused Poco Lee, the dancer, of exploiting him. It was the first of many Instagram Live rants that would later become a part of his brand. By early 2022, he earned a Headies nomination, only to lose it after threatening fellow nominees online. The organisers disqualified him, citing his “incessant negative attention” and multiple brushes with the law. For most new artists, that could have been the end. But for Portable, controversy became currency. What seemed like self-sabotage was actually a pattern.
The Afrobeats star had discovered a niche: controversy as marketing. Whenever buzz began to fade, he knew exactly how to stir attention back toward him, even if it meant total chaos.
Mavin Records boss and revered music industry figure Don Jazzy reportedly said that he uses Portable as a case study for his artists—a living example of how staying visible and authentically connected online is just as important as releasing music. Portable himself has always understood the attention economy. As he once bluntly put it: “Whenever I mention someone’s name, whether I criticise or praise them—it helps them trend. I’m a blessing. If I insult you or celebrate you, you’ll gain from it.”
While Portable acknowledges the role that established stars like Olamide played in his breakthrough, he hasn’t hidden his disappointment in how things unfolded afterward. In an interview with Echoo Room, a popular music platform based in Lagos, Nigeria, he shared that his frustration stemmed from a lack of mentorship. “Olamide gave me ‘Zazoo’ and I used it to tour the world, but he didn’t hold my hand and guide me like Skepta did,” he said. “I was just running up and down without management. He should have carried me along.”
This emotional admission gives a rare glimpse into the artist behind the headlines—someone aware of his raw potential, but also of the opportunities that structure and mentorship could have offered him. His experience with the British grime legend Skepta marked a turning point. In 2024, Portable collaborated with Skep and UK producer JAE5 on “Tony Montana”, which debuted inside the Top 100 on the UK Singles Chart and landed Portable his first Billboard appearance.
Despite the lack of a traditional support system, Portable continues to thrive. Most recently, Burna Boy—himself a once-controversial figure—gifted Portable $15,000, a nod to the younger artist’s resilience and street loyalty. Portable has even coined a name for his sound: “Afro-Wahala”, a genre defined not by musical polish but by attitude—brash, loud, unfiltered—much like the man himself. “Wahala” is Nigerian slang for “trouble”, and no word fits Portable better.
In an industry where marketing budgets, influencer partnerships and label deals often dictate success, he has hacked virality using little more than a smartphone and a knack for grabbing attention. Portable doesn’t play by the rules because he was never invited into spaces where the rules were written. And so, he built his own world: speak your mind, make noise, stay visible, and always deliver music that connects with the streets. Unlike many viral sensations whose flames flicker out, he has survived nearly five years—an eternity in today’s hyper-fast digital culture. His relevance isn’t measured by chart positions alone; it’s measured by presence too. And whether ranting online or being outrageous in public, he remains part of the daily cultural conversation.
But to dismiss him as just comic relief would be a mistake: Portable’s music, while raw, speaks to real experiences—street survival, betrayal, dreams deferred and reclaimed. For many of Nigeria’s youth, Portable represents a beacon: messy, imperfect, but real. He is the artist who came from the slums with no polished accent, no expensive visuals, no industry favours—yet somehow found himself seated beside Skepta, praised by Don Jazzy, gifted by Burna Boy, and etched into the cultural fabric of Afrobeats’ evolution. Whether his strategy will sustain him for another five years is uncertain. But for now, he stands tall—erratic, unpredictable, but undeniably iconic.
