He lays me bare,
Loosen the clips to me,
Yet wants me fair,
He’s a fool to me.
He has no money,
Makes love to me,
Pregnancy won’t be funny,
He should ask Tumi.
Can he loosen the clips
Oh God, and still keep me fair?
Can he fall for my hips
Oh God, and still have me rare?
Yet what comes of marriage is it.
Sorry, what comes of it is marriage.
School fees be paid, kids must eat.
I doubt he’s ready, I can’t live on garbage.
-Lord eBay (and his mumbo-jumbos, 2016)