Ruger has released a new EP titled R.U. (Raw & Unfiltered), Vol. 1, a six-track project that sees the Nigerian artist lean back into the explicit, dancehall-fused style that first brought him attention at the start of the decade.
The EP arrives after a sophomore album that some observers felt had exhausted his signature charm. On this latest work, Ruger’s writing remains direct and surface-level, yet he finds fresh angles for his tales of seduction and romantic conquest.
Track-by-track breakdown
Opening track ‘She Don’t Like Men’ frames a plea from a self-aware narrator who fears losing his partner to another woman. Ruger delivers lines such as, “I cover my girlfriend with the blood of Jesus, because I can’t fight a woman because of a woman,” blending cheeky humour with insecurity.
‘All Die’ shifts into percussive Afropop, with Ruger plotting to win a woman’s affection despite competing suitors. The sentiment contrasts with the previous track’s reluctance to fight over a love interest, a contradiction the song attributes to the irrationality of desire.
On ‘Private Chef’, Ruger revisits Brazilian funk influences. While it does not replicate the impact of his earlier hit ‘Toma Toma’, the track reaffirms his commitment to a transient, streetwise romantic life, as he openly plans to move on from his current partner.
Guest appearances and thematic shifts
‘Do Nothing’ features South African artists Musa Keys and Young Stunna on an Afro-tech production. Here, Ruger acknowledges the financial and mental toll of his lifestyle, repeatedly asking on the chorus, “Where una dey see this money?”
‘Loved At Home’ presents a more straightforward pursuit, driven by the thrill of a challenge rather than genuine fascination. The track’s chorus insists on a romantic target simply because she is a conquest, a motivation that can make the song feel less urgent.
The closing track, ‘Jesus Loves Me’, follows a familiar Afrobeats trope of a gratitude prayer, though its sentiment sits uneasily alongside the EP’s preceding content. The declaration of divine priority rings less as a natural conclusion and more as a forced coda, given the narrator’s otherwise secular exploits.
The EP does not break new sonic ground or chart unfamiliar territory, but it re-establishes Ruger’s unfiltered, abrasive persona after a period of relative restraint.
