“March Am” kicks the album off with organized chaos – almost all drums over eerie, organ-like synths and orchestral strings, not unlike “Ozeba.” The engine revving in “March Am” and later “War Machine” make Rema sound like the head of a biker gang, with the latter easing into a speedy stretch down open roads with the kind of amazing soul sample you might find on a Griselda track. Here, Rema pulls back on the weight of the drums and airs out the synths, with rising Nigerian rapper/singer/cool guy Odumodublvck’s unmistakable snarl giving it an intimidating edge. “Yayo,” Heis’s most melodic offering, may be the track that lights up the dance floors brightest. It also has a rare sense of ease about it, where Rema is chiefly concerned with how he’s gonna fit all his cars in his yard instead of the vengeance that dominates the rest.

Indeed, Heis sees Rema powered by spite, where before, it was love, sex, and enjoyment. “I’m not gonna take it easy on my hater,” he taunts on the uncanny “Hehehe,” that ghostly bellow in full force. Rolling Stone once called Rema “Afrobeats’ New Superhero” – now he takes care to say that he’s the bad guy. He’s relentless and witty all over, like when he mocks anyone who wants to hold him back: “Shey you wan gatekeep who sabi jump fence eh?” he says sarcastically in Pidgin on “Ozeba”: “Oh, you want to gatekeep someone who can hop fences?” He takes even more care on “Now I Know” to explain that really, he’s hurt, and he’s lashing out because of it. In a truly remarkable feat of Afrobeats’ songwriting – of which Rema has a leading pen – he sings that trauma, chronicling how taking on financial obligation for his family as a child, sleepless nights, and constant criticism have turned him colder. “E get as God go bless person dem go talk say na devil o,” he says, meaning, loosely, “When God blesses someone, other people say its the Devil.” Sound familiar?