Boma yé

Picture yourself in a car on the highway
With a shortening leash and CCTVs
Cellophane flowers of yellow and green
Could be bank notes or Lee-Loo Dallas Moultipass
Or a free ride on a kaleidoscoped bitchass
And then there's me at the wheel, and I mean
That half-assed poet singing lullabies
To soothe the funerals from the burden of bad-byes
Loans left by Aunt Lucy when she flew with her diamonds
May as well keep her doggy bag full 'cause we only die once
Pass the ford, ungrasp your hold yeah, but pass the Courvoisier
Beat yourself with the crowd howlin' "Baby, boma yé"