How “Money Constant” Became The Soundtrack Of Detty December

By 1am of December 27th, 2025, the outdoor space of Glitz Event Centre, was packed out with guests—some two thousand by my estimation—who had gathered for Wonderland, the Island Block Party headlined by Wale and supported by a glittering lineup including Lojay, Ladipoe, Mavo, Oxlade, and Fave, amongst others. The festival had been scheduled to start by 10:30pm the previous day but by 1am, very little activity was happening. And yet, the air was thick with the distinctive festive spirit that attends Detty December, that feeling that ineluctably nudges us to trade the breakneck fervor of the work year for an equally intense disposition to hedonism. 

As the decorations festooning the festival grounds swayed under the gentle morning breeze and the lights from the stage dappled the sea of festival goers, people engaged in small talk, danced to the music flowing from the giant speakers positioned at the corners of the stage, and milled around, presumably in search of some excitement. Others busied themselves chugging down large bottles of alcohol and smoking weed, bidding their time until the show started properly. 

By 2am, the show had yet to properly commence, and one could now sense the energy in the space shift from the blasé, chirpy complexion of the previous hour to a more skittish tone. Everyone who has attended a concert in Lagos can relate all too well to this. A bit of lateness is not only expected but welcome. The perennial traffic congestion plaguing the city’s road networks can be erratic and unpredictable. As such a significant buffer period allows guests to fully arrive before an event commences. Past a certain threshold however, tardiness starts to rouse unease and frustration: patience begins to wear thin, legs start to feel sore and wobbly from hours of standing and discontent begins to calcify. At this point, show organizers know they have to do something drastic or risk the energy of the crowd permanently cratering—there’s only so much dancing and screaming a tired crowd can do—or worse, scathing reviews on social media. Typically, there are two options for rescuing the situation. The straightforward fix is to bring out the performing artist(s). Alternatively, a DJ, hypeman, or a combination of both, can attempt to thaw the audience.

DJ Titanium, who had opened for Asake two days prior, suddenly found himself saddled with the task of rousing an increasingly disaffected crowd. He quickly cycled through a slew of songs with little success. Money Constant, featuring Wizkid, Mavo, DJ Maphorisa, and DJ Tunez, came on and the previously glacial audience, in a surprising turn of events, transformed instantly. The crowd began dancing and singing with the kind of gusto one might find at a political rally or church convention. The guy beside me slapped his chest with vim as he sang along to Mavo’s infamous lines on the song: “The money wey you dey owe me, you go pay me today!” By the time we got to Wizkid’s hook—“Yeah Yeah”—the crowd was swaying like an overgrown grassland under the thrall of a gentle rocking breeze. Later that morning, when Mavo, dressed like Super Mario (red cap, red shirt, and blue pants), performed Money Constant, another wave of unbridled excitement ensued.

Anyone who was out this December undoubtedly has their Money Constant lore. Whether it was at Dance Eko, where Wizkid mounted the DJ deck during Skyla Tyla’s set, delivered an improvised performance of the song; or at his show at the Tafawa Balewa Stadium where, even after multiple performances of the song, the reported 50,000 attendees kept chanting “one more time.” Even staying at home couldn’t insulate you from the Money Constant bug, the song saturated social media with suffocating intensity. 

Money Constant’s story really begins in June of 2022 when a snippet of the song surfaced on social media. At the time, Wizkid was still buzzing with momentum from the deluxe edition of his modern classic, Made in Lagos, and was gearing up for his next major move. In the snippet, set at a club in Amsterdam, we see Wizkid inches behind DJ Maphorisa, who is manning the DJ booth. Wearing a black Adidas tracksuit, with a flotilla of jewels hanging down his neck, he dances languidly to the song, a glass of alcohol in his right hand. The snippet instantly polarized fans, with many considering it a wild departure from his recent work. Wizkid, who had just achieved global success with an R&B-inspired album replete with tracks exploring the intersection between romance and sensuality, was suddenly previewing an Amapiano track that finds him singing: “Baki dey, Shayo dey, designer dey.” 

The snippet—tentatively named Yeah Yeah—quietly receded from public conversation until October 23, 2025, when it was revived as Money Constant, featuring a verse from Mavo, who was by then one of the most electrifying emerging acts, with hits like Escaladizzy and Shakabulizzy below his belt. While Money Constant was initially met with mixed reactions, in the hours following its release, it began to climb up the charts. But it also had to face a welter of criticism from pundits who deemed the record as slapdash, as well as competition from CKay’s Body featuring Mavo and the remix of Mavo’s Shakabullizy featuring Davido, both of which were released on the same day as Money Constant.

All three songs were initially met with derision from some quarters. Body, partly on account of Mavo’s infamous line: “Your body na meatpie.” And Shakabulizzy owing to Davido’s kitsch allusion to controversial internet personality Geh Geh. But soon, it became evident that all three songs were leading the running for the soundtrack of Detty December. By mid-November Body started to seem like it was winning the race. It maintained a fastidious grip on the Spotify Top Songs chart and dominated TikTok, Mavo’s previously scorned line becoming a rallying cry; similar to how in 2019, Davido’s ridiculed line on the summer walker assisted D&G—“When I look into your eyes all I see is your waist”—later became a crowd favorite. It wasn’t until early December, when nightlife in Lagos attained peak intensity and Detty December moved into full swing, that Money Constant pulled apart from the rest, becoming the unofficial soundtrack of Detty December. 

January, in a sense, is as much a period for reflection as it is for prediction. As such, as we reflect on 2025, the question of what makes Money Constant’s December takeover culturally relevant takes center stage. There are perhaps myriad answers to this question but one that feels particularly poignant is: in an age where culture increasingly splinters into niches and microcosms, the song feels like a callback to the pre-2017 monocultural era, when culture consistently spawned a surfeit of moments—movies, songs, memes, allusions—that a vast swath of society connected to, enjoyed, and referenced.