Dis tin too sweet as if say e get too much sugar,
You too love sweet tins, you be sweet lover,
You dey do every doable, di black and yellow, di dark and fair,
Chop dis wan, chop that wan, your long throat no be here,
You dey eat everything like dart,
Na every hole you dey enter like rat,
You dey tear thighs – dey break hearts,
Like e don reach your side? O my dear, tek heart!
We don lose count for di body count,
E just dey too many, I no fit count,
You sabi their mumu button, na why you get their control,
And na dis your athletic sense you dey use run their parole.
You dey run am like marathon, e no dey tire you?
Shey na everytime dis hunger dey wire you?
I pity you,
E go shock you when Karma wire you
Nemesis — dis konji go soon catch you.
No be everything wey Abu see
he suppose chop,
Time go come when di music go die
And your hip no go hop,
Person wey get ear make hin hear,
Na wetin you sow, you go wear.
No go chop the di wey go choke you for throat
or di one wey go sink your lifeboat.
Photo Credits: Dainis Graveris at Pexels