Nigerian singer Abdulazeez Fashola, better known as Naira Marley, is making waves not with a new track, but with a heartfelt plea that’s got the internet humming. The controversial Marlian Music boss took to his X handle earlier today, Sunday, March 23, to drop a line that’s both a shield and a challenge: “Islam is perfect, Muslims are not. If I make mistake, blame me, but not my religion.” For a man who’s weathered storms of backlash, it’s a raw, personal pivot and Nigerians are split on what it means.
The post, timestamped around 8:32 AM WAT, comes as Ramadan’s holy hush blankets the Muslim world, a time when Naira Marley’s been more vocal about his faith. The 34-year-old, who’s long danced between fame and infamy, seems to be drawing a line in the sand: his actions are his own, not a mirror of Islam. It’s a sentiment that’s landed with a thud, stirring a pot already simmering from his past think Mohbad’s death, legal battles, and a public that’s never quite let him off the hook.
Reactions poured in fast. “Well said! Islam, like any faith, is pure. It’s people who fall short,” one X user chimed at midday, echoing a chorus of support that sees Marley separating his flaws from his beliefs. Others weren’t so gentle. “Oh no, you’re the perfect representation of your religion flaws and all,” snapped another, hinting at a skepticism that’s trailed him since 2023, when his former signee Mohbad’s mysterious passing pinned a target on his back. The Lagos court cleared him last month, sure, but for some, the shadow lingers.
Naira Marley’s not new to this dance. He’s been here before denying ISIS ties in 2023, musing on Jesus this Ramadan each time trying to wrestle his narrative from the headlines. Today’s plea feels different, though. It’s less a defense, more a confession of humanity. “He’s saying he’s not perfect, and that’s fair,” said Aisha Lawal, a Lagos fan who’s stuck by him. “But when you’re that big, people judge everything your music, your life, your God.”
The timing’s no accident. With Ramadan’s call to reflection, Marley’s been on a roll tweets about forgiveness, faith, fasting painting a picture of a man looking inward. Cleared of Mohbad’s death in February, he’s got breathing room now, but the scars of that saga public boycotts, accusations of bullying still sting. “Islam is perfect, Muslims are not” isn’t just a statement; it’s a plea for a reset, a chance to be seen as Abdulazeez, not the Marlian myth.
Online, it’s a tug-of-war. “This is why we should be good ambassadors to our religion,” one post urged, nodding to Marley’s point. Another jabbed back: “But you represent your faith act like it.” For every cheer, there’s a jeer, a split that’s less about theology and more about trust. Can a man who’s built a brand on rebellion think “Soapy,” think Marlians pivot to humility and be believed?
Tonight, as Lagos hums under Sunday’s quiet, Naira Marley’s words hang heavy. No follow-up’s come yet—no beat to soften the blow, no video to shift the vibe. Just a man, his faith, and a crowd that won’t stop watching. Is it a turning point or another verse in a long, loud song? For now, he’s asking Nigeria to see him clear: flawed, yes, but not his religion’s fall guy. The jury online and off is still out.