The Motoka You see that Benz sitting at the rich’s end ? Ha! That motoka is motoka It belongs to the Minister for Fairness Who yesterday was loaded with a doctorate At Makarere with whisky and I don’t know what Plus I hear the literate thighs of an undergraduate. You see those market women gaping their mouths ? The glory of its inside has robbed them of words, I tell you the feather seats the gold steering The tv the radio station the gear! He can converse with all the world’s presidents While driving in the back seat with his darly Between his legs with the driver seeing a thing! ha! ha! ha! Look at the driver chasing the children away They want to see the pistol in the door pocket Or the button that lets out bullets from the machine Through the eyes of the car shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Let’s not talk about it. But I tell you that motoka can run It sails like a lyato, speeds like a swallow And doesn’t know anyone stupid on its way The other day I heard - But look at its behind, that mother of twins! A-ah! That motoka is motoka You just wait, I’ll tell you more But let me first sell my tomatoes.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Jun 2013 00:46:20 +0000
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