Psychedelic love is theme of Adedeji’s pen in L3MÖ’s new hit ‘WOAH’

By Emmanuel Esomnofu Songwriting is kind of like architecture — someone has to lay the foundation, build the frame, and shape the whole experience before anyone even steps inside. Sure, the artist is the one you hear first, but it’s the songwriter who builds the world behind the voice. On WOAH, L3MÖ’s trippy dive into […]

By Emmanuel Esomnofu

Songwriting is kind of like architecture — someone has to lay the foundation, build the frame, and shape the whole experience before anyone even steps inside. Sure, the artist is the one you hear first, but it’s the songwriter who builds the world behind the voice.

On WOAH, L3MÖ’s trippy dive into the highs and haze of love, Abiola Adedeji does exactly that. She doesn’t just write a song—she crafts a feeling. And this one? It’s messy, magnetic, and completely unordinary.

Right from the jump, WOAH doesn’t feel like your typical love song. It’s not clean or predictable. It’s warped, unsteady in the best way, like being drunk on emotion and trying to walk a straight line. Abiola leans right into that energy. The lyrics don’t follow a traditional path, and that’s kind of the point. They wander. They spiral. They hit moments of clarity and then drift off again, mirroring what it feels like to want someone so much it knocks you off balance.

What makes her writing here really hit is how well it matches L3MÖ’s whole sound and energy. This track feels like a look inside his head—restless, passionate, a little reckless, and the lyrics sit right in that space. It’s not polished affection; it’s love with frayed edges. Obsessive, a bit unstable, but still sincere. There’s this tension in the song that pulls you in, like watching someone fall in love while also kind of losing control. And Abiola’s words don’t just tell that story, they drop you right in the middle of it.

There’s something really cool about how her lyrics move with the music, too. They don’t just sit on top of the beat. They move with it. Stretching, bending, sometimes floating just behind or ahead. The production is hazy and psychedelic, and her writing matches that texture. It’s not about hitting perfect structure, it’s about matching the mood. That’s why it works. It feels alive.

And even with all its dizzy, chaotic energy, WOAH still hits an emotional nerve. Underneath all the sonic fuzz and lyrical blur, there’s a truth about love: that it can be overwhelming, all-consuming, and a little scary. Abiola captures that without ever saying it outright. She gives you space to feel it for yourself, however it lands. That’s something not every writer knows how to do, step back and let the emotion breathe.

One of the most impressive things about Abiola’s work, on this track and others, is how she always finds the right tone for the artist she’s writing with. She doesn’t force a style or overthink the structure. She just gets it. With WOAH, she knew the song needed to be loose, a little unhinged, and she let it be just that.

It’s not a perfect love song. It’s not supposed to be. It’s a song that feels like love, messy, unpredictable, intense. And Abiola Adedeji captured that without cleaning it up too much. That’s what makes it stick.