From my high mountain
I look into the forest deep,
forbidden region of gigantic creatures
Glad I need not eat them
I'm no match for the likes of ants
taller than my fortress gates
They down there, me up here.
What I stir fry, I grow myself
My hands are stained
my brawn is sufficient
At night, my Afro grows galactic
I have garden tools and weapons
I have armies no one knows
My balconies are strategic
I am the Lady of my domain
In restaurants, I tone it down a bit
Waiters' trays flip inexplicably when I'm around
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