MY NEIGHBOR’S BABY THAT SPEAKS LIKE WIZKID
MY NEIGHBOR’S BABY THAT SPEAKS LIKE WIZKID
It all started on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday, the kind of day where life’s financial markets seem stable, predictable, and uneventful. I was sipping my coffee, scrolling through a fintech app to check my passive income, when I heard a sound so surreal it felt like cryptocurrency had just hit an all-time high.
A baby was speaking. Not in regular baby gibberish, not in coos or squeaks. No, this baby was speaking like Wizkid—rapping, freestyling, and sprinkling charm as if it had a Grammy tucked in its diaper. Even my investment portfolio seemed to pause, figuratively, as if to absorb the absurdity.
. At first, I thought it was a glitch in reality. Babies don’t talk like seasoned Afrobeats legends, let alone name-drop high-yield investment strategies mid-verse. They say “goo-goo,” “ga-ga,” or sneeze accidentally. This baby, however, was delivering lyrical flows with confidence rivaling a top fintech CEO announcing a new cryptocurrency token.
I blinked twice, then ran to my window. My neighbor, completely oblivious, was changing diapers with Zen-like calm, unaware that her child had just disrupted my perception of time, music, and wealth. The baby held a rattle like a microphone, mumbling something about Lagos nightlife and mashed yam prices, which sounded suspiciously like financial analysis.
I swore I heard a verse that could have fit perfectly on Essence. I checked my ears, pinched myself, and whispered a prayer that this wasn’t a caffeine-fueled hallucination. But no—this was reality, and the baby’s voice was smoother than a digital banking app’s UI.
I tried to focus. Maybe the baby was speaking in baby gibberish, and I was overlaying my fantasy. But then it started naming streets, describing traffic, and subtly dissing imaginary haters—all with impeccable cadence, like a CEO explaining a volatile stock market crash. I had to sit down. My coffee went flying, foam forming shapes that resembled stock charts and crypto symbols.
The mother, still blissfully unaware, asked if the baby wanted juice. The baby responded, “I’m good, Mama, just letting the vibes—and ROI—speak.” I almost called emergency services. But then I remembered: emergencies don’t cover musical prodigies or early-stage wealth strategists.
I could hear the baby dropping ad-libs, small “ah-ah!” punctuations like dividend updates on a fintech app. The rhythm, confidence, and charisma were beyond normal. I tried to peek closer; I think the baby winked. Yes, winked. At me. Like an angelic financial advisor giving insider tips.
Then came the freestyle about toys. The stuffed bear got a verse about market trends. The baby walker got a critique of ROI on walking exercises. The pacifier got a full breakdown on liquidity and cash flow. I didn’t know whether to applaud, cry, or check my investment accounts for sanity.
Neighbors gathered. Some were confused. Some were concerned. One elderly man muttered, “Back in my day, babies cried, they didn’t rap about asset allocation.” He shook his head as if trying to process a sudden fintech startup pitch in his living room.
I swear, someone dropped a water bottle just in awe. The baby paused mid-verse to say, “It’s alright, stay hydrated, and monitor your liquidity ratios.” I nearly fainted. Who says that before turning one?
The baby then got serious. It rapped about ambition, dreams, and teething woes like a seasoned CEO outlining quarterly projections. I couldn’t believe it. The words were profound, the rhythm impeccable. Then—plot twist—it pulled out a tiny phone and scrolled Instagram, probably posting viral reels. Views skyrocketed before the parents realized the social media ROI.
People in the street formed a circle. I wondered if I was witnessing the birth of the next Wizkid or a tiny fintech guru. Someone asked, “Does it cry?” I laughed. “Cry? This kid? No, it prefers harmonizing with market trends.” And harmonize it did. Even neighborhood dogs stopped barking in respect, like auditors acknowledging a properly diversified portfolio.
At some point, the baby addressed me directly: “Don’t worry, you’ll catch the vibe if you lower your ego and review your asset allocation.” I nearly fell off my balcony. Babies critiquing speech patterns is one thing; critiquing financial literacy is next-level absurdity.
The mother finally noticed. “Yes, he’s a little musical,” she said casually, as if it were normal to freestyle about cryptocurrencies, passive income, and mashed yam prices. I didn’t have the heart to inform her that her baby sounded like a Nigerian superstar with a stock market degree.
The crowd grew to twenty. They clapped, nodded, and some took notes on financial planning inspired by a one-year-old. TikTok clips went viral before lunch. I considered running away to avoid public humiliation and unplanned investment advisory duties.
But I couldn’t stop watching. The baby rapped about the neighbor’s dog stealing socks, chickens laying eggs too slowly, and traffic light inefficiencies, all while drawing metaphors about liquidity, ROI, and passive income. My cheeks hurt from laughing. My stomach hurt from laughing. Yet the laughter felt like a profitable investment in joy.
Somewhere in the chaos, the baby had formed a fan club. Adults chanted: “Wizkid Junior! Wizkid Junior!” The baby bowed and dropped another verse smoother than a well-timed fintech app update. I questioned reality, my retirement plan, and why I hadn’t started a baby investment fund.
I tried to interact: “Do you… want water?” The baby rapped about hydration, subtly critiquing my speech and portfolio diversification. I swear, I got financial advice from a human who hadn’t even mastered walking.
Hours passed. The baby performed a full set including rap, ad-libs, and spoken word about teething woes versus liquidity crises. The crowd cheered, offering bottles of formula as tips. The baby graciously accepted, demonstrating charity and wealth management principles even before crawling.
By the end of the day, everyone was inspired. Teenagers reconsidered life choices. Adults reevaluated careers and financial planning. I… I decided I might become a background dancer for this tiny prodigy while also taking notes for my own investment portfolio.
As the sun set, the baby cuddled its teddy bear, humming a soft outro while I processed what I’d witnessed. The crowd dispersed, still talking about the legend they had just seen. I sat on my balcony, still in awe, laughing, questioning existence, and wondering about starting a “Wizkid Junior Financial Consulting” agency.
And that’s the story of my neighbor’s baby that speaks like Wizkid. A baby who freestyles, critiques, harmonizes, and provides unsolicited financial advice—all before mastering basic motor skills. A baby who reminded me that talent—and perhaps financial literacy—sometimes comes in the most unexpected packages… sometimes in diapers, sometimes with impeccable ROI.
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