Rapper Oruam, only 23 years old, has recently made headlines after being arrested twice within less than a week. His most recent arrest occurred on the morning of February 26, 2025, during a police operation at his mansion located in Joá, Rio de Janeiro. The operation was part of the Delegacia de Repressão a Entorpecentes (DRE) efforts to investigate Oruam's alleged involvement with firearm use, particularly targeting incidents of gunfire from the previous December.
This arrest is just one of many controversies surrounding the young artist, whose real name is Mauro Davi dos Santos Nepomuceno. Oruam is the son of Marcinho VP, a well-known drug trafficker who has been imprisoned since 1996. His family ties have undeniably impacted his musical career and the public’s perception of him. Although he did not have any recorded albums at the time, he amassed over 13 million monthly listeners on platforms like Spotify, showcasing his growing presence within Brazil’s rap and trap scene.
His recent legal troubles began when he was arrested during the week leading up to February 26, after being pulled over for reckless driving — attempting to do stunts with his vehicle, which led to him being fined and detained briefly. He was released after paying bail of R$ 60,000. Following this arrest, he expressed frustration over public opinion concerning his life choices, stating, "I can't take it anymore; everyone keeps talking about me. My mind is all muddled," hinting at the pressures he faces as both an artist and the son of a notorious figure.
Further complicate his situation, legislators have introduced what is being referred to colloquially as the "anti-Oruam bill," aimed at curtailing performances by artists who express themselves through music related to crime or drug culture, particularly those financed by public funds. This proposal has sparked considerable outrage within artistic communities, framing it as censorship and discrimination against artists from impoverished backgrounds. Oruam himself has commented on the law, asserting, "What you don’t understand is the anti-Oruam law affects not just me but everyone," making it clear he views this as broader than personal retribution.
The law's proponents, including Congressman Kim Kataguiri and Senator Cleitinho, argue it aims to discourage the normalization of crime within Brazilian culture, which they believe Oruam's music promotes. Critics counter this narrative, stating such legislation could lead to broader censorship of cultural expressions, especially from the favelas, where rap and funk music thrive. Legal expert Danilo Cymrot pointed out potential constitutional violations as preventing artists from performing based on their lyrical content opens doors to very slippery slopes of censorship.
Beyond legal battles, Oruam's personal life has remained marred by controversies tied to his family's legacy. During his performance at the Lollapalooza festival last year, he wore a t-shirt calling for his father's release, which drew harsh criticism online. He described this act as simply "a child's outcry for his father," adding, "My dad erred but is paying for his mistakes richly. Don’t take away someone's right to advocate for their loved ones." This statement and its ensuing backlash highlighted the dual narratives at play: one of personal familial loyalty against the backdrop of public condemnation.
Oruam's rapid rise to fame has been fueled by songs portraying themes of ostentation, his upbringing, and reflections on his family's troubled past. Even with growing popularity stemming from tracks like "Oh Garota, Eu Quero Você Só Pra Mim," Oruam has faced monumental scrutiny due to his tattoos honoring his father and influential relatives involved with criminal activities — including Elias Maluco, who was convicted of murdering journalist Tim Lopes. His choice to ink their faces on his body speaks to the complicated relationships he’s forged and the legacy he feels bound to carry.
This entangled web of legal issues and family heritage continues to shape Oruam's public persona. His commitments to his craft often intersect with his personal life, creating opportunities for social commentary on crime, freedom of expression, and familial ties. Because of his background, his career already poses inherent challenges; this one man’s fight against persecution remains emblematic of wider struggles faced by many artists within Brazil's hip-hop community.
Looking forward, it remains to be seen how these layers of contention will impact Oruam's career. Will he be able to transcend the controversies and continue building his brand, or will legal troubles hamper his future as one of Brazil’s most trending musicians? Only time will tell, but the stakes are undoubtedly high as he navigates this rocky path between artistry and the shadows of his past.