Tomorrow is Thursday

​Sitting in the office listening to Sarkodie

Sitting in the office heart steady aiming there

Once upon a Quchi, Mpape was my city

Now I got magic, call it audacity
Now am humble as I tick off the stages

Now they wonder what number this my age is

My crushes still stare at me, diabolical

The victories line up, illogical
The war is on, yep, buh we won em all

There were kisses in the past buh we blew em all
The ladies win though, shopping malls

Funny punning only here to make you doubt it all
Rapping for me is still a borrowed pose

Check our matter you can see somebody nose

The Word is our medicine, we overdose

Yeah we Stuck in heaven and hell is growing cold
Winning souls like they’re subs and eleven

Ecumenical meetings, hands raised in the dozens

When you don’t know bro you should talk less

I am hidden in Christ, light, like the Sun’s chest
Writing till I sleep I still hill like Bopeep 

Jesu in Quchi like you when you spell it

God is my Papa, by faith that he born it

I am not alone and my people? We still burn it!