This was trending on Twitter and I thought I could recreate a Ghetto Santa's thoughts in a poem. And what if the ghetto in question is Nigerian?
Much of the stuff you find in this line of poetry are highly overrated but I've tried to be true to the Nigerian setting as much as I possibly can.
Yo kid! You got your money? 'Cause this Santa ain't freebie.
Holla at your momma make sure she got the right ticket.
I like your style, your class but maybe I'll whack the bee's knees.
Lose the cunt face, eh. Got no love for Santa Clause, midget?
Say, it's Christmas that's why we're here to make some cool money.
You came to laugh, dance and clap your hands. I came to get paid.
Now that we understand each other, don't fight the feeling.
Hello, how d'you do? I'm Santa Claus. Let's start over again.
Let's get issues cleared from the start; I ain't here to please you.
I'm here to do what I do, you're here to love what I do.
Come, sit here on my laps tell me what you wish and you'll see
That Santa can be nice like paradise if you ain't naughty.
Don't mess up the costume, wipe your tears. We can talk things out.
You don't gotta get all mushy. What are you all about?
I like you kid but you gotta go. The next kid looks rich
So, hurry chop! chop! Get the hell out o' here, little Grinch.
Akpan
Much of the stuff you find in this line of poetry are highly overrated but I've tried to be true to the Nigerian setting as much as I possibly can.
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| Photo: mediamilitia.com |
Holla at your momma make sure she got the right ticket.
I like your style, your class but maybe I'll whack the bee's knees.
Lose the cunt face, eh. Got no love for Santa Clause, midget?
Say, it's Christmas that's why we're here to make some cool money.
You came to laugh, dance and clap your hands. I came to get paid.
Now that we understand each other, don't fight the feeling.
Hello, how d'you do? I'm Santa Claus. Let's start over again.
Let's get issues cleared from the start; I ain't here to please you.
I'm here to do what I do, you're here to love what I do.
Come, sit here on my laps tell me what you wish and you'll see
That Santa can be nice like paradise if you ain't naughty.
Don't mess up the costume, wipe your tears. We can talk things out.
You don't gotta get all mushy. What are you all about?
I like you kid but you gotta go. The next kid looks rich
So, hurry chop! chop! Get the hell out o' here, little Grinch.
Akpan
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