I know it sounded crazy when I said I’ve been working on this album for over five years, but it’s true. The oldest song on the album came out of one of the most life-changing moment of my life.

It was 2019.

I was in Lagos, though I couldn’t tell you what the day looked like. I don’t remember if it was morning or night, sunny or rainy, grief has a way of numbing even your senses. My manager at the time had been calling me every day, urging me to get back in the studio. Beyoncé’s team had reached out; they wanted me to write for her Lion King project. Under different circumstances, I would have been overjoyed. But I had just lost my father, and in that moment, even music felt like a weight. My whole world had collapsed.

But one day, I forced myself to get up. To try. To write. I sat in my small studio at home, picked up my mic and let everything I was feeling pour out. That’s the day I wrote Simile.

“Simile” means rest on me, lean on me in Yoruba.

It wasn’t just a song. It was my grief, my confusion, my cry for direction. When I finished, I knew it was far too personal to give away. Still, we sent it to Beyoncé’s team, and I secretly prayed it wouldn’t make the final cut. It didn’t. And so Simile stayed hidden on a hard drive for years.

Fast forward to 2024. My best friend Michael, who produced Simile, played it randomly in a recording session and asked me if I remembered when I wrote it. I didn’t. I had buried it, just like I had buried so much of my grief. But the moment the song started playing, it all came rushing back. We sat there listening to it over and over, and I knew instantly: this belongs on Fuji.

Here’s why;

When I lost my dad in 2019, I never gave myself time to grieve. I threw myself into work, into reinvention, into survival. I thought if I kept moving, maybe the pain wouldn’t catch up with me. Instead, it lingered in silence, shaping my choices without me even knowing. It shaped everything, my transformation, my sound, even the birth of AG Baby.
I’m my father’s firstborn and his only son. His death shifted my entire world. It forced me to become a father figure before I even had my own child. I wasn’t ready for that responsibility, but life demanded it.

Listening back to Simile reminded me of something I had forgotten, that even in the deepest loss, I was not alone. That I had God to lean on, even when I felt I had to carry the weight of everything by myself. Maybe that’s the reminder you need too, Daniel.

Grief isn’t just about losing a parent. It can be the loss of anything that once mattered, a person, a friendship, a relationship, a dream, financial stability, even a version of yourself you thought would last forever. Loss takes many forms, but the emptiness it leaves often feels the same.

If you are carrying grief right now, I want you to hear this: Daniel, you don’t have to carry it alone. It’s okay to lean on God. It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to admit you’ve lost your way and need direction.
That’s what Simile taught me. That’s why I had to share it. Hearing it again after 5 years, helped me wrap my head around my emotions, it helped me heal. 

So when you hear this song, I hope it gives you what it gave me: comfort. The quiet strength to know that even in your breaking, there is still a voice saying, rest on me, lean on me.

All my love,

Adekunle Kosoko

If you haven’t pre-saved our next album FUJI 
You can do it HERE 
Out OCTOBER 3RD, 2025