liberian angel

She walks in the room, got that glow, you can't mistake it

A mix of the West Coast, Africa's finest, no need to fake it

From the spices on the table to the wisdom that she speaks

That Liberian soul fire, with a Lebanese sweet streak

Yeah, she's got that double heritage, a story in her eyes

A heart as wide as the ocean, where the truth never hides.

She gives her all, five days a week, molding young minds

sharing knowledge,

And when the bell rings out, her second shift begins

Tradin' textbooks for a spatula, where the magic continues to spin.

Oh, she's the Melody of Monrovia and Beirut

Sweetest thing you ever saw, yeah, she bears the fruit

Of compassion, wisdom, and a love that's truly grand

Got that patience of a teacher, the softness in her hand

And that cake she bakes, baby, it's the truth, yeah, it's the best

The kind of flavor that puts your worried mind at rest.

She mastered every recipe while the whole world was asleep

Knafah on a Sunday, or maybe some classic red velvet

Every slice is a memory, a story that she's dealt with

She pours her whole good spirit into every single crumb

You can taste the generous heart that she's working from.

Oh, she's the Melody of Monrovia and Beirut

Sweetest thing you ever saw, yeah, she bears the fruit

Of compassion, wisdom, and a love that's truly grand

Got that patience of a teacher, the softness in her hand

And that cake she bakes, baby, it's the truth, yeah, it's the best

The kind of flavor that puts your worried mind at rest.

But there's one soul who knows her secret rhythm, knows her peace

A fluffy shadow, brings all the tension release

Curled up on the velvet chair, purring soft and low

He has white shoes, and yes, he steals the whole show

He’s the keeper of her quiet moments, the king of her domain

The teacher, the baker, the beauty—and her reason in the rain.

Teacher... Baker... cat momma...

Liberian-Lebanese princess

Go on and get that cake, y'all...