Many kicks, many pains to battle
Mummy complains; “please be gentle”.
You make me beat my chest; “am the man”
You are my future number one plan.
Lemme go on to catch a grenade;
Love I got for you will never fade…
Allow good genes translates sweet berries
A future without you is barren…
Can’t wait to hear you call me daddy
Call mummy too, she is gladden.
Sweetness.
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