You said it’s a vogue
So you appear like rogue,
Intentionally dragging a million eyes to sin
With your expensive elegant rag
You said it’s a fashion
When you exhibit your flappy breasts
Sagging like pig’s waist
Can you blame the sun who punished them
Made them dry and wrinkled
Like the village mason’s clay baked
What separates you from a brotheling dog
Wagging its tail towards aroused warthog
Berating the value of our African cultures
Buying unrespectable life
Deriding the value of womanhood
That’s why you stink like rotten leaves,
When you reveal the secret Creator hid on your chest
I don’t think a noble would purchase you
Unless the shameless gentry like you too
You hurt the pride of my mother,
And dwindle the glory of my woman
With your free-product selling around to unwilling buyers
No wonder predators keep setting their nets in the night river
If you don’t fear God,
You should panic for the daggers of the gaggers
It might earn you a traumatic memoir!
Written by: Dauda Muideen Lanre
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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