Kenyan matatus

Arm pats on the side, gear shifts back to 1 Brakes hiss again, exhaust snores some more Girls humm away, clear music gets louder Dude commandeers from the door, on off on off Another collects the levies, for the club on wheels services Staff excited from the taxin, chewing on miraa Hiphop to dancehall, everyone bobbs along A screen for the music videos, another for the cctv Perfumes and colognes, mixed with wind from the windows We all try to act cool, as the club on wheels roars away One passenger stands up, clearly near his destination Like a computerised pattern, two seconds and the bus stops But as soon as the youth alights, a middle-aged man boards One matatu going to town, another coming from town So we wait at the bus stops, for the club on wheels to come Adrenaline from the driver, flows throughout the vehicle Rat races on the highway sometimes, from rival matatus We never have to show it, but the winners feel good Competition is stiff, they overlap because they have to Coolness comfort and convenience, nairobi's club on wheels