Her pitch black hair is shining
Like a lid of a brand new grand piano
She's walking down the ghetto walkways
Holding up her head so high, so proud

Her pearly eyes are catching glances
And countless unknown dreamy whispers
She's hovering past the moldy hovels
Acting up like a self-made outskirt queen

She laughs at the cooing men
desperately trying to impress her
But winks at the young girls peeking
shyly behind their fussy mothers

She steps down from the wharf
and disappears in the streets of Lagos
Many many months to come, the whole slum
sings the song of the chikito from Makoko

She's walking slow jazz
counting good cash
She's holding high hopes
climbing steep slopes
She's blowing big brass
In major chords

She's walking slow jazz…

Come on, chikito!
She bring wahala!
You find out the bag is full of dollars.
My dollars.
Bring suya, bring suya, na cow body dey suffer am!
Mm-hmmm.
Na from clap dem dey enter dance.

Holding high hopes
Climbing steep slopes
Thrashing poor dopes
The way she goes
Holding high hopes
Thrashing poor dopes
She's the chikito from Makoko

Blowing big brass
In major chords