Akon’s “Locked Up” or “Smack That.” The lights are flashing, the crowd’s hyped, and Akon’s killing it on stage. Except… what if that wasn’t Akon at all? In a jaw-dropping revelation on the Bootleg Kev Podcast on April 30, 2025, the Senegalese-American superstar spilled a wild secret: his brother Omar Thiam was secretly posing as him at some shows, pocketing the cash, and fooling fans who had no clue. Buckle up, because this story is a hilarious ride through the hustle of Akon’s early career.
Akon, now 52 and still vibing with new music ventures, dropped the bombshell that his brother Omar was pulling off a straight-up heist in the 2000s. Without Akon’s permission, Omar would book gigs under his name, show up pretending to be the “Lonely” singer, perform the set, and walk away with the performance fees. Akon only found out when he’d spot flyers for shows in cities he wasn’t even visiting—like one in Baltimore while he was chilling in New York.
“Omar was a straight gangsta about it,”
Akon laughed on the podcast, recalling how his brother would
“just straight-up take a show”
and keep the money. Fans, none the wiser, thought they’d seen the real deal.
Omar wasn’t the only brother stepping into Akon’s shoes. Akon’s other sibling, Abou “Bu” Thiam, was also sent to perform as him—but this time, it was all part of the plan. When Akon’s schedule got too crazy with double bookings, he’d send Bu to cover shows so no money was left on the table. There was just one catch: Bu couldn’t sing.
“He can’t do none of that,”
Akon admitted with a chuckle. So, Bu would lip-sync to Akon’s tracks while a DJ spun the hits. The audiences? Totally clueless. Bu even performed at a Hot 97 event, passing as Akon with ease. The only giveaway? Bu loved wearing hats, while Akon didn’t.
This whole scheme sounds like something out of a movie, but it worked like a charm in the mid-2000s. Back then, social media was barely a thing—Twitter was just launching in 2006, and Instagram didn’t exist until 2010. Fans didn’t have instant access to celebrity selfies or live streams to double-check who was on stage. Plus, Akon was still a rising star after his 2004 debut album Trouble, so most concertgoers didn’t know exactly what he looked like. Add in the fact that both Omar and Bu looked enough like Akon to pass—
“You’d definitely think, ‘Okay, that’s him,’”
Akon said—and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a musical masquerade.
When Akon’s story hit the internet in 2025, social media lost it. X lit up with fans and jokers alike, tossing out memes and one-liners.
“Imagine going to see Akon and getting Bkon or Ckon instead,”
one user posted, while another quipped,
“Akon, Bkon, Ckon—I’m an Econ-omist!”
Others called it the ultimate
“Senegalese hustle,”
with one X post dubbing it a
“double finesse.”
The humor wasn’t mean-spirited; fans seemed to love the audacity of it all, marveling at how Omar pulled off such a bold move.
“This is why Akon’s a legend,”
one fan wrote.
“Even his brothers were out here running the game!”
You might think this kind of stunt would spark family drama, but Akon’s got nothing but love for his brothers.
“We laugh about it today,”
he said on the podcast, calling it
“probably the funnest part of our lives.”
There’s no bad blood—Omar’s rogue gigs and Bu’s lip-syncing are just funny memories now. Akon’s chill attitude about the whole thing only adds to the story’s charm. He’s not sweating the past; he’s too busy looking forward, whether it’s re-recording his hits with country music twists or building his futuristic Akon City in Senegal.
