When Victony first said “Me I no dey hear word” on Stubborn, it came across like one of those sharp-edged, youthful lines you sing along to without thinking too deeply. But Very Stubborn makes the intention clear. That line was never just rebellion for the sake of it; it was a soft crack in the armor he finally opens up fully on this project. Here, he is not performing strength; he is explaining it.

Very Stubborn peels back everything Stubborn only hinted at. If the 2024 album stood tall with chin up and chest out, ready to face the world, this EP feels like the quieter walk home after the noise fades. The fame is louder now, pressure is heavier, and for someone who climbed from Ojo streets to global Afropop stages in just a few years, that shift comes with a cost.

From the opening moments, a young man is clearly wrestling with his own success. Fear slips between melodies. There’s a loneliness that is not begging for pity but asking to be understood. Victony has always had the kind of stubborn grit that defines Afrobeats fighters, but here, the grit rubs against the skin a little more. “Way Home” captures it perfectly, firing back at doubters with a line that feels less like chest-thumping and more like self-reminding: “They don’t know where I come from, they no fit understand what I’m made of.” It’s still defiant, but coloured with exhaustion, the kind carried by someone tired of being misread.

The features on Very Stubborn act less like accessories and more like emotional extensions. Terry G brings his trademark chaos to “Tanko,” its upbeat tempo gets you dancing hard with the right ginger. Don Jazzy’s presence on “E Go Be” offers a grounding calm, the kind of steady reassurance only he can deliver. Olamide lifts “Skido” with older-brother confidence, adding fire right when the project needs it. And at the centre sits “Gangsta Cry,” arguably the project’s emotional core, where Victony lets vulnerability sit beside swagger with no need for apology. It’s raw without trying too hard, a rare balance.

No conversation about Victony is complete without acknowledging 2021, the accident that almost took his life, and pulled him into surgeries, stillness, and self-redefinition. It shifted everything: his sound, his path, his perspective. On this EP, that moment hums beneath every note. He sings like someone who has seen the worst and is learning how to embrace the best. Gratitude, grief, confusion, and growth collide throughout the project, and instead of smoothing the edges, he lets the tension live. That uneasiness is what makes Very Stubborn ache the way it does.

The production gives his storytelling room to breathe. Beats stretch wide like spaces filled with too much light and too many shadows. Sometimes it’s orchestral and airy; sometimes it’s intentionally minimal, like he’s whispering his truths in the dark. The restraint is part of what sets this project apart in a sea of new sounds — emotional without melodrama, experimental without abandoning the Victony DNA.

If Stubborn was Victony pushing against the world, Very Stubborn is him pushing against himself. Not destructively, but in the uncomfortable ways growth demands. Fame is reshaping him. Life is stretching him. Grief is teaching him. And ambition is that stubborn fire that carried him from Ojo to the world.

By the time the EP fades out, it doesn’t feel like just another Victony release. It feels like access to a private room he rarely lets anyone enter. And instead of covering the cracks, he lets the truth sit plainly: he is not simply surviving success; he is shaping it. He is not stubborn for stubbornness’ sake; he is stubborn because stopping would mean losing everything he fought to become.

Very Stubborn is not loud or trend-chasing. It’s a statement wrapped in confession, and the more it plays, the clearer it becomes that Victony is defining his era through honesty, not hype. That’s what makes this project stand tall. It’s messy, deliberate, emotional, reflective, and fully human. And for an artist who has walked through fire and still refuses to bow, that stubbornness doesn’t look like a flaw anymore. It looks like destiny.

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