A beat licence, when properly structured, is meant to define the terms of that use from the outset. It sets out whether the artiste has exclusive or non-exclusive rights, how the producer is compensated, and what uses are permitted.
By Deborah Oyedijo
Blaqbonez’s “ACL” had all the markings of one of last year’s defining rap records: it went viral, drove relentless conversation, and accumulated streams across every major platform. Then, in early April 2026, it abruptly disappeared from Spotify, Apple Music, and other digital service providers, not because of a court order, and not because Blaqbonez took it down, but because the underlying beat had changed hands.
Reports indicated that the instrumental had originally been used under a limited, non-exclusive licence, the kind commonly sold by producers. When the song gained significant traction, the situation shifted. The producer reportedly sought fuller compensation and enforcement of their rights for what had effectively become an exclusive commercial use. Without a written agreement protecting the scope of its use at that commercial level, the original release could not remain online.
What played out publicly in that moment is not unusual. It is a quiet, recurring issue across African music industries, from Lagos to Accra, Nairobi to Johannesburg, where songs are often created and released long before the legal foundation behind them is clearly defined.
At the centre of this issue is what is often referred to informally as “using a beat on credit. In practice, this usually means that a producer shares a beat, an artiste records over it, and both parties proceed on the understanding that details will be sorted out later. That later stage is where things often break down.
A beat licence, when properly structured, is meant to define the terms of that use from the outset. It sets out whether the artiste has exclusive or non-exclusive rights, how the producer is compensated, and what uses are permitted. Most importantly, it addresses what happens if ownership of the beat changes. Without that clarity, the artiste’s position remains uncertain, particularly if the song begins to generate commercial value.
This pattern is not limited to any one country. Across the continent, similar situations play out daily. A producer sends a beat through a direct message or messaging app. The artiste records and releases the song. It gains attention, sometimes even attracting brand interest or sync opportunities. At that point, questions emerge. Who has the authority to license the song? Who is entitled to the revenue? In the absence of written terms, the answers are rarely straightforward.
Understanding this requires separating three concepts that are often treated as interchangeable but are legally distinct. A beat sale relates to the transfer or licensing of the instrumental. A publishing agreement governs the composition, including the allocation of songwriting credits and royalties. A production credit, which appears on streaming platforms, is simply a record of contribution. It carries no independent legal force.
A publishing agreement, in particular, plays a critical role in structuring ownership of the song itself. It defines who wrote the composition and in what proportions, how royalties are shared, and who has the authority to approve uses such as film placements, advertisements, or covers. Without such an agreement, decisions about the song’s exploitation are often made by whichever party is in the strongest negotiating position at the time.
For example, where a song is selected for use in a film or a pan-African advertising campaign, a clear publishing structure determines how that opportunity is handled. In the absence of one, disagreements can arise not only over money but over control. These situations are not theoretical. They reflect common industry experiences across multiple markets.
One of the reasons these gaps persist is cultural as much as structural. African music industries are deeply relationship-driven. Many collaborations are built on personal connections, shared environments, and mutual trust. In contexts where formal infrastructure is still developing, these relationships often serve as the primary basis for creative work.
However, this reliance on trust introduces a recurring challenge. Documenting an agreement can feel unnecessary or even uncomfortable between parties who view themselves as collaborators or friends. As a result, important terms are left unwritten. While this may not present an immediate problem, it becomes significant when the value of the work increases or when circumstances change.
From a legal standpoint, copyright laws in major African music markets generally require that transfers or assignments of copyright, as well as exclusive licences, be documented in writing to be enforceable. In Nigeria, the Copyright Act 2022 provides that “an assignment of copyright or an exclusive licence … shall have no effect unless it is in writing”. Non-exclusive licences, by contrast, may be written, oral, or inferred from conduct. Equivalent principles apply in other key markets.
In South Africa, the Copyright Act 98 of 1978 states that no assignment of copyright and no exclusive licence shall have effect unless it is in writing signed by or on behalf of the assignor/licensor. In Kenya, the Copyright Act similarly requires assignments and licences to be in writing
This is where the gap between creative practice and legal structure becomes most visible. The industry often moves faster than the documentation that is meant to support it. Songs are recorded, shared, and monetised quickly, while agreements are delayed or overlooked entirely. When issues emerge, there is little formal record to rely on.
Addressing this does not require complex legal arrangements in every instance. In many cases, simple documentation can provide significant clarity. A written agreement, even if brief, can outline the scope of a beat licence, whether the rights granted are exclusive, and how revenue will be shared. A split sheet, which records each contributor’s percentage in the composition, serves as a foundational document for publishing rights.
Registration is another practical step. Recording the existence of a composition with the relevant copyright body or performance rights organisation creates a formal link between the work and its creators. While this does not replace contractual agreements, it strengthens the overall framework within which rights are recognised and enforced.
It is also important to understand the limits of informal indicators such as streaming credits. While these reflect contribution, they do not define ownership or contractual terms. Relying solely on platform metadata leaves key questions unanswered, particularly when the work begins to generate revenue beyond streaming.
Returning to the earlier example, the resolution to the situation was ultimately creative. Blaqbonez released a new version of the track built on a different instrumental, maintaining momentum and keeping the conversation alive. From a legal perspective, however, the options were limited. Without a written agreement securing the initial use of the beat at that scale, there was no basis to challenge the change in ownership.
This is far from an isolated incident. Similar disputes have occurred across the continent and beyond. In Ghana, producer MOG Beatz pulled Shatta Wale’s albums Reign (2018) and Wonder Boy (2019) from Apple Music due to unresolved production credits, payment, and rights issues. The albums were later restored after the matter was settled. In the UK, rapper Ren’s track “Sick Boi” was removed from streaming platforms and YouTube following a public dispute with producer Kujo over licensing and payment terms.
These cases, along with frequent takedowns in the global music production scene, illustrate a recurring pattern: informal or undocumented arrangements often collapse once a song gains significant commercial value.
This highlights a broader point about how rights operate within the industry. The absence of documentation not only affects ownership but also flexibility. It determines what an artiste or producer can do when circumstances shift, and how easily they can respond to new opportunities or challenges.
Across Africa, music continues to travel further and generate more value than ever before. As that value increases, so too does the importance of the structures that govern it. Informal practices may support speed and collaboration, but they do not replace the need for clarity where rights are concerned.
For artistes and producers alike, the starting point is simple. Agreements should be written, even where relationships are strong. Key terms should be defined early, not after a song succeeds. Ownership, usage rights, and revenue splits should be clear before the work enters the market. Friendship and collaboration remain central to how music is created across the continent. They are not, however, substitutes for legal agreements. The two can coexist, and when they do, they provide a stronger foundation for both creativity and sustainability.
A song may begin as a shared idea between people who trust each other. Once it is released into the world, it becomes part of a system governed by rights, obligations, and enforceable terms. Writing those terms down does not weaken the relationship. It protects the work that came from it.
Deborah Oyedijo is a music business writer and entertainment lawyer-in-training with a focus on the African music industry. When she is not writing about music rights and culture, she is watching K-dramas or absorbing yet another documentary. Connect with her on IG and X: ayooyedijo