My guy wey wear khaki, stand for gate,
He dey shout “Papers! Papers! No duplicate!”
E eye sharp like eagle, e face hard like rock,
But for back, my guy, dey break the lock.
E be immigration, na him gangan be the law,
Yet e hand long, e dey do fire war.
Two opposites, e nor suppose blend,
But money dey talk, so ethics gas bend.
“Dem nor born me well make I focus,”
Na wetin e talk as e dey count him bonus.
Stamp for front, erase for back,
Chop government rice, still add small pack.
Visa tight? No worry… My guy, go loosen am small,
Border closed? No fear… just slip am envelope wey tall.
E be like pastor wey thief offertory,
Or traffic warden wey sabi robbery.
So next time dem hail my guy for uniform,
Just smile, because na old-time fmt.
For Naija, we sabi the score,
Na who hold pass, go open the door!
