A copyright dispute between gospel singer Prince Goke Bajowa and highlife performer Adeyinka Adeboye aka Boye Best is drawing attention beyond the artists involved, raising fresh questions about ownership, how music is credited and when song performance can become infringement in Nigeria’s evolving industry.
The disagreement, which centres on the alleged use of Bajowa’s song without permission, has triggered threats of legal action, public denials, and a wider debate about who truly “owns” a song in an era shaped by live performances and social media promotion.
The Dispute
The controversy between Goke Bajowa and Boye Best burst into public view on Sunday, April 26, when Bajowa took to Instagram with a video that blew the dispute open.
In the video, the veteran gospel singer accused Boye Best of repeatedly performing his song “Iwo Ko Lo Dami” for the past five to six years without his consent and, more importantly, without proper credit. His tone was measured but firm, suggesting that the issue was not new, but had reached a breaking point. According to Bajowa, he had deliberately avoided confrontation for years due to ongoing health challenges. He explained that he did not want to aggravate his condition by adding BP to it when he engages in a public dispute. That restraint, he implied, should not be mistaken for acceptance.
The “Iwo Ko Lo Dami” crooner revealed that his decision to finally speak out was triggered by a recent development involving Boye Best’s planned album launch. Bajowa alleged that his song had now been taken beyond live performances and recorded in the studio, then used as part of promotional material tied to the project. For him, this marked a clear escalation from informal stage renditions to what he sees as structured, commercial use without authorisation.
Central to Bajowa’s argument is not the performance of the song itself, but how it has been presented. He stressed that while he had not stopped Boye Best from performing the track, it becomes “misleading and unfair” when such performances are done in a way that suggests ownership or exclusive rights. In his view, the issue is as much about perception as it is about permission, particularly when the performer is seen to have benefited from the song’s popularity over time.
Describing his statement as a “final warning,” Bajowa made it clear that this was not just a public complaint but a prelude to possible legal action. He claimed that there had been prior communication on the matter, which he says Boye Best ignored. Going forward, he demanded consistent and clear acknowledgment as the original creator whenever the song is used, performed, or promoted.
Failure to comply, he warned, would leave him with no option but to take formal steps to “protect the integrity and ownership” of his work.
The Response
Boye Best pushed back almost immediately, taking to Instagram on the same day, with a video response. The singer rejected the allegations of copyright infringement and attempted to reframe the narrative around what he described as a misunderstanding.
Speaking directly to the claims, Boye Best insisted that he never presented the song “Iwo Ko Lo Dami”as his own and had no intention of doing so. Speaking on using Prince Goke Bajowa’s song as promotional material, he described the situation as a result of a graphic design error rather than a deliberate act. According to him, he had been invited to perform at an event scheduled just days before his own album launch and agreed largely because it offered an additional source of income.
He explained that the event organiser, who did not initially have his promotional images, sourced an old video of him performing the song online and used it to design publicity material. That material, he said, went further than expected, suggesting he would be launching an album at the event and tied the promotion to the song in question. He went on to claim he neither authorised the promotion clip and wasn’t aware of it at the time.
Boye Best maintained that he was upset when he saw the flyer, precisely because he understands the implications of copyright misuse. Stressing his awareness of intellectual property rules, he argued that he is “educated enough” to know the meaning of copyright and would not knowingly infringe on another artist’s work. For him, the suggestion that he intentionally claimed ownership was both inaccurate and damaging.
On the question of performance, he drew a distinction between singing a song and owning it, noting that it is common practice for artists to perform other people’s music, provided proper credit is given. He insisted that he has consistently acknowledged Goke Bajowa in most instances where he performs the track, particularly on social media, and has no reason to deny the song’s authorship.
His response also carried a conciliatory tone. Referring to Bajowa as a senior colleague, Boye Best expressed respect for his work and legacy, suggesting that the situation should not have escalated to a public confrontation. He even noted that some associates, including contacts abroad, had advised him not to respond at all, but he chose to speak in order to “set the record straight.”
Credit, Popularity and the Performance Culture Question
At the heart of the dispute between Goke Bajowa and Boye Best is a deeper tension that has long shaped Nigeria’s music space. It is the uneasy balance between who created a song and who made it popular.
In many parts of the industry, particularly within gospel and highlife circles, songs are not treated as fixed recordings tied to a single artist. They move across spaces, from church stages to concerts and from live ministrations to social gatherings. Performers often carry these songs even when they are not the original creators. This culture has allowed songs to gain wide recognition through repeated live performances, sometimes far beyond the reach of the original composer.
This system creates a blurred line between ownership and performance. Bajowa himself has made it clear that he does not object to his song being performed. The only time there would be an issue is when a performance becomes closely associated with one performer, or is linked to structured promotion or commercial activity.
This is where credit becomes critical. In an informal performance culture, attribution is often inconsistent. Sometimes it is given verbally, sometimes it is left out, and sometimes it disappears entirely as songs move across audiences. As this case shows, the absence of clear credit can create the impression that a performer owns or controls a work, especially when they have performed it frequently over time.
The result is usually the same, where a song is written by one artist but becomes widely associated with another who performs it more visibly. Popularity begins to overshadow authorship. Audiences recognise the voice or face on stage, while the original creator becomes less visible. This shift goes beyond perception. It affects recognition, influence, and the potential earnings tied to the work.
In that sense, the Bajowa and Boye Best dispute goes beyond a single song. It points to a wider structural gap in the industry. Tradition allows songs to circulate freely, but modern visibility demands clearer rules about who is credited and who is recognised as the owner.
The Legal Question
Although the dispute between Goke Bajowa and Boye Best has not reached the courts, it sits squarely within Nigeria’s copyright framework and raises questions that go beyond the two artists.
Under the Copyright Act 2022 Nigeria, the creator of a musical work holds exclusive rights over how that work is used, including reproduction, distribution, public performance, and adaptation. In reality, it becomes harder to enforce in places where music is shared more casually. For instance, performances in churches, concerts, and community events, don’t necessarily follow the rules of acknowledging the owner of a certain song.
One key issue is what actually counts as infringement during live performances. Singing another artist’s song is not always illegal, especially in settings where music is often sang and remixed. But it becomes a problem when the performance is done repeatedly, used to make money, or presented in a way that makes it seem like the performer owns or controls the song. In Bajowa’s case, the concern is not just that the song was performed, but that it was used often, especially for promotion and in a way that may amount to unauthorised use.
A second layer of complexity lies in third-party involvement. Boye Best’s defence hinges largely on the role of a promoter or graphic designer who allegedly created and circulated the disputed promotional material. Legally, this raises the question of liability. Copyright law does not always stop at the individual who directly creates infringing content; responsibility can extend to those who authorise, benefit from, or fail to correct its use. Even if someone else is involved, an artist is still expected to keep an eye on things especially when their name and performance are connected to the work.
There is also the issue of proof. Many songs are performed live and are not always officially registered or released. This makes it hard to show who truly owns a song. Without clear records or proper licensing, disputes often depend on things like who people recognise as the original singer or older recording and that can make things harder to settle legally.
For artists, in order to avoid their work being stolen they need to begin to formally register their works, document first recordings and performances, ensure proper licensing agreements for use and actively monitor how songs are used across platforms to the best of their knowledge.
If Bajowa chooses to pursue legal action, the case could define clearer boundaries around credit, consent, and commercial use in an industry where those lines have long remained fluid.
Conclusion
The dispute between Goke Bajowa and Boye Best may still be unfolding, but it already points to a deeper issue within the industry.
As songs move freely across stages and screens, the gap between who created the music and who is seen to own it continues to widen. Whether resolved privately or in court, this case underscores a simple reality that in today’s music space, credit, consent, and clarity can no longer be optional.
