(Amapiano log drum bouncy. Deep bass. 8 bars.)

Too much diamonds on the wrist, Rihanna would cry —

n*ggas wey never believe me watching me fly

from the window of their doubt — that sh*t hurt,

I know, I been there — the convert

from broke to blessed na overnight but the night

was ten years long — every b*tch wey say I'd never shine bright

now stream the album at 2 AM —

my accountant call Monday at 9 AM:

Dayo, the card decline at the jeweller —

I say: which jeweller — she say: the cooler

one in VI — I say: try the other card —

she say: I tried four — God,

I say: babe, call the bank — she say: I'm your accountant,

not your bank — I say: the discount

between those two jobs na very small — she hang up.

She send the report every Friday, I read it Sunday —

by Monday I'm Bezos in my head again —

that's why she pray for me. Every week. Without fail.

(Amapiano log drum drops. Maximum bounce.)

Accountant, accountant — she know my every move —

accountant, I'm in my spending groove —

accountant, she pray for me every night —

accountant, the numbers still don't look right —

accountant, but the music dey, the money dey —

accountant. We go figure it out. One day.

The thing about money na it move like water —

find the crack and disappear — I slaughter

the budget every month like a certified professional —

b*tches wey said the sound too local, confessional

time: they dey stream it on repeat since —

I spend like the money got common sense

and decide to leave on its own —

Diddy in his prime had the zone

of a man wey believe the bag never empty —

my accountant send me twenty

emails this week, I open three —

she say: Dayo you owe it to me

to read the f*cking spreadsheet —

I say: language — she say: I learned it from your sheet —

fair point. I read the next one. Maybe.

My mama call me: Dayo, what is this I hear —

Lagos gossip move faster than the fear

of God — somebody tell her something —

I say: Mama everything fine — nothing

to worry — she say: you sound like your father —

I say: Papa was charming — she say: bother

me not — your father charm his way into debt —

I say: I'm charming and paid — she say: not yet —

give me the accountant number —

I say: Mama, don't call her — the slumber

of my finances na delicate —

she already calling — immaculate

decision from a woman wey raised me right. I lose.

Accountant, accountant — she know my every move —

accountant, I'm in my spending groove —

accountant, she pray for me every night —

accountant, the numbers still don't look right —

accountant, but the music dey, the money dey —

accountant. We go figure it out. One day.

(Log drum only. Voice warm and direct.)

To every person wey dey figure out the money —

hire an accountant.

She go cry sometimes.

But she go save you from your own d*ck decisions. Worth it.

(Full drop returns.)

Accountant, accountant — she know my every move —

accountant, I'm in my spending groove —

accountant, she pray for me every night —

accountant, the numbers still don't look right —

accountant, but the music dey, the money dey —

accountant. We go figure it out. One day.