His walk is like a song

His walk is like a song
not just any old song
but the kinda song
that Nina Simone
want to take on
put it on me, baby
his voice demands respect
the kind that you get
when you learn to
spell it from a song
r-e-s-p-e-c-t sister man
asking this of me
put it on me, baby
his smile a hidden clown
the joy bring kind
cause he's brave enough
to pull the hairs
from his chest
the kind that
asks in a 70s
kinda way
didn't I blow your mind
this time, didn't I
put it on me, baby
his feminine is strong
he bares it on
his shoulders
like his bravery he do
it is as beautiful as
embroider silk
and strong as kente cloth
he is the ancestral drums
that moves our hips
of who we be
put it on me, baby
his lovin' is like
my ace boon coon
the kind that people
seldom sing of
the kind that
poets breathe
their breath to
catch a whips of
put-it-on-me, baby
his touch touches
my lust it dispel
my fragile hurts
he tongue my embrace
I assure his gender
when he put it on me.