“We don't care for what they say – that’s my superpower.”– Obongjayar + Little Simz, “LOTUS” (2025)
June 6th, 2025: I’m at Heathrow, boarding yet another flight back to Malmö after two weeks of grafting in London. Hustling. Networking. Smiling through rejections and lukewarm “keep in touches.” A trip that, if I’m honest, didn’t quite work out the way I hoped it would. The energy felt off. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was Mercury doing nonsense again.
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As I settle into my seat, I say my prayers and just before I have a look through Netflix to see what moves I had downloaded, I start scrolling through the socials—and then BOOM. There it is: Simz just dropped her new album.
My anxiety-ridden face melts into a grin. Yes o! My sis dropped a lifeline.
Simbiatu Abisola Abiola Ajikawo—aka Little Simz—has been my little sister in my head since her debut. She’s Nigerian by blood, Brit by postcode, and just like me, her lyrics speak diasporan third culture realness.She raps like she’s been in our WhatsApp groups. Like she’s watched us age gracefully into soft life but still keep pepper spray in our handbags, just in case.
With LÖTUS, Simz didn’t just release an album. She released a whole spiritual seminar. A body of work that feels like what happens when introspection lifts weights, flies business class, journals with intention, and comes back with chakras aligned and edges laid.
This is grown woman rap. Nigerian slang, London cadence, but the delivery? Universal. Simz raps from her soul, from her solar plexus, from that place where your ancestors and your therapist meet for drinks and drag you lovingly.
The lotus flower’s meaning across cultures is one of rebirth, purity, and spiritual elevation. That’s exactly what this album is. After a very public creative divorce from her long-time producer, Inflo, Simz lays it bare. “Thief,” the opening track, is a lyrical exposé—raw, poetic, and clearly aimed at someone close.
But as we say in Naija: Naija no dey carry last—and we MOVE.
Simz teams up with Miles Clinton James (of Kokoroko fame), who produces the entire project with lush, layered, AFRO-jazz-meets-cinematic-orchestration vibes. The production? Textured like Aso-oke on a humid Lagos afternoon.It’s giving orchestral grime.It’s giving “Yoruba priestess in a Celine blazer.”It’s giving “I’ve done the healing, now here’s the sermon.”
For yours truly, the standout track? LION.
Featuring the mighty Obongjayar another one of Naija’s finest, it’s Marvin Gaye meets Fela Kuti on a rooftop in woolwich.Waists are winding. Yansh is yanshing. From the very first beat, I was up in my economy seat doing spiritual warfare through rhythm.It’s spiritual. It’s dangerous. It’s divine.
Throughout the album, Simz testifies. She lectures. She floats. On “SOS,” she addresses the rap game like a tired but stylish auntie at a family meeting.She gives us receipts with love. And when she taps into her softer moments? It’s not sad girl aesthetics—it’s I’ve walked through fire and didn’t burn energy.
LOTUS isn’t just music. It’s audio therapy.It’s incense, and the incense tax.It’s brass sections and boundaries.It’s what my inner voice wishes it sounded like—over immaculate production and unapologetic clarity.
LÖTUS is Simz’s coronation.She’s Lauryn Hill, Sade Adu, Erykah Badu, and the Ladiju Sisters, all rolled into one.In the 1hour 20 minutes I was up in the air listening to this album, I felt deep, unshaken gratitude.Not just for the music, but for Simbi herself.May her reign be long, bold, and boundary-breaking.
Meanwhile in the circus tent the Rumble of the Rich Men.
One minute they’re beefing—Musk calling for impeachment, Trump threatening federal contracts, Epstein name-drops flying like confetti.Next thing? Tesla shares bounce, Elon apologises, and the bromance resumes like nothing happened.
I mean ARE YOU HAVING A BUBBLE, TRUMP?ARE U HAVING A LAUGH, ELON???Come on. We saw it coming like a Nollywood plot twist.
It’s all one big distraction.It’s optics.It’s giving Jayda Essence Hall’s “look over there” while the world is on fire.And while the boys were cosplaying Real Billionaires of Mar-a-Lago, real things were going down.
Greta, Gaza & Guts
Greta Thunberg joined a flotilla to break the Gaza blockade. Israel intercepted the boat—on international waters—snatched activists (Greta included), and deported them like DHL returns.
She clapped back, called it what it was: kidnap.God bless her. God bless every soul on that mission. May they all return safe.
Greta’s urging the world to go to Gaza.In person, in spirit, in solidarity.That’s the real front page news.Not this clown-off between Trump and Elon.
The Diddy Debacle - OKPORRRRRRR
Whew.This week’s testimony from “Jane,” one of Diddy’s exes, was harrowing.
A social media influencer, she testified about abuse, manipulation, coercion into unprotected sex with sex workers—and Diddy watching her sleep with other men. Including entertainers. Including his personal trainer Paul.
Yep. Freak-Offs™ were scheduled. Staffed. Ready.It’s giving “Yansh on tap.”It’s giving “No orgy, no entry.”NA WA OOO.
Diddy’s legal team is pulling every stunt in the courtroom circus—calling mistrial, questioning jurors, all of it.But the prosecution? They’re painting a picture that looks like a long-standing, coercive sex-trafficking operation.
This isn’t about kink.This is about control. Power. Shame.And “Jane’s” story echoes what Cassie Ventura and others have said.These weren’t just “freak nights.” These were orchestrated violations hidden behind fame, fortune, and fear.
These are CRAZYYY times people, i aint gonna lie.
I mean what do you guys think? Hit me up in the comments.
Love,
Ari.x
P.SIf this musings and others made you laugh, think, shake- yansh, or side-eye the state of the world—do your good deed for the day:Like it. Re-stack it. Re-share it. Subscribe if you haven’t already.
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