Packed and jammed, full of life,
Native Kenyan charm, feast for drooping eyes,
It’s got its blatant traps, its bulging hills and dykes,
To me it’s home, it’s Nairobi’s heart,
It’s noisy so, glamour in the culture,
It’s food and clothes, ever picturesque,
It’s Matatus speeding, yeah, they never rest,
And my watchful eye trudging in the crowd,
If you bat a lid, you can lose your purse,
Or get sucked so deep, in my city’s heart,
Yeah, the neon lights, and the curvy girls,
All just ride the veins, it’s Nairobi’s pulse,
Now I’m not a fancy man or a flashy dude,
I’m a traffic light sitting on a bump,
Yeah, they love the parks, scrapers, and the cool,
But the muck I see, is Nairobi’s form,
I’ve been in this spot for a decade now,
And I watch em all walk the Mboya Street
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