“Very Soon” reads as a direct address to a lover, built around reassurance, proximity, and the promise of imminent reunion. The opening interjections: “Ah, ṣo mọ? ṣo mọ ọ?”, immediately set a conversational tone. Rather than a narrative with scenes, the lyric unfolds like a phone call or late-night voice note, full of quick turns of phrase, code-switches, and affectionate slang. The central refrain: “Very, very soon / I’ll do you better, and I promise you”—anchors everything: time (soon), intention (do you better), and commitment (promise). That triad becomes the engine of the song’s persuasion.

Across the verses, the speaker blends English, Nigerian Pidgin, and Yoruba to shade meaning without over-explaining. Lines such as “Ero bi maa ṣe para o jẹ ki n sun” (a thought that should ease the mind so one can rest) sit alongside “It’s not even in my power”, a striking admission that the pull toward the other person feels larger than individual will. Paired together, the text communicates both agency and surrender: the speaker is choosing commitment, yet experiences it as something inevitable.

The lyric frequently returns to the body and space as proofs of love. “If I no dey your pillow” invokes closeness through a domestic image—rest, softness, nighttime presence. The pillow becomes a synecdoche for the relationship’s center: if the speaker is absent from that space, “e go cause trouble.” The trouble here isn’t dramatized; it’s simply the predictable friction that comes when intimacy is interrupted by distance. Repetition intensifies this: “Oh baby, we’ve been on this o / I’ll see you very soon.” The second line doesn’t add new information so much as it reinscribes the promise—proximity is coming back.

Affectionate nicknames act as both flirtation and texture. “Oloyin Toyin Tomato” stacks metaphors of sweetness and ripeness, functions like a playful appellation, and mirrors the overall sweetness-ethos of the chorus. In contrast, “Mi o ki n ṣ’olodo” frames the speaker’s self-conception: not a dullard, not passive, but someone who acts. This claim lines up with the repeated “I’ll do you better”—not grand gestures, but a consistent, incremental improvement in how love is given.

There’s also a subtle rhetorical structure at work. Each assurance tends to be followed by a rationale or consequence: “I’ll see you very soon… ’cause I know e go cause trouble o / If I no dey your pillow.” Later: “You no suppose let me go, if you love me / Girl, you for let me show you love ni.” The speaker isn’t demanding love; he’s proposing a symmetry—don’t let go, and in return I’ll demonstrate the “characteristics” of my love. That word—“Characteristics”—is surprisingly formal in a field of colloquial expressions. It suggests the speaker sees his love as definable, with traits that can be observed over time, and he’s eager to put those traits on display.

Time markers recur throughout: “Very, very soon,” “Every day we go, bẹbẹ n lọ.” These lines create a forward tilt—imminence (soon) and continuity (every day). The result is a lyric that prefers patience over spectacle. Even when desire is present, it’s framed as steady rather than impulsive: “I’ll do you better… I promise you.” The promise is not about dramatic transformation but about consistent presence and improvement.

Code-switching functions as more than style; it modulates intimacy. Yoruba interjections and Pidgin instructions (“Dub ni,” “Go on, go on”) bring the tone closer, warmer, more familiar, while standard English carries the declarative vows. The switches map the speaker’s emotional range—playful, persuasive, grounded—and help the lyric hold multiple registers without friction.

The hook’s architecture relies on recurrence rather than escalation. We circle the same images—pillow, soon, better, promise—allowing them to gather resonance. This is a common approach in contemporary Afropop ballads: repetition not as filler but as reassurance, where saying the same thing again is itself a loving act. The effect is liturgical; the vow becomes mantra.

There’s a modest tension between assertion and invitation. On one hand: “You no suppose let me go, if you love me.” On the other: “Girl, you for let me show you love ni.” The first line outlines an expectation; the second asks for permission to fulfill it. That oscillation keeps the tone collaborative rather than coercive. The speaker wants reciprocation but frames it as a shared project—“we’ve been on this o.” The relationship is not a reset; it’s an ongoing path the two have been walking, and the promise of “very soon” is to resume stride.

Even the small ad-libs—“Oh no-no,” “mm-ah,” “Dub ni”—are doing work. They punctuate the text with breaths and nods, implying a live, conversational presence. They also prevent the assurances from reading as scripted; the voice feels present-tense, thinking and feeling in real time.

Core Themes

• Imminence and Assurance: “Soon” is the song’s key word. The lyric insists on near-future closeness as the answer to present restlessness. Assurance isn’t vague; it’s time-bound: very soon. That temporal specificity becomes a comfort strategy.
  

• Proximity as Proof of Love: Physical nearness is treated as a primary indicator of care—“If I no dey your pillow… e go cause trouble.” The home space (bed/pillow) symbolizes stability. Distance equals friction; presence equals peace.
  
• Commitment Framed as Practice: Rather than grand declarations, the speaker emphasizes steady acts—“I’ll do you better,” “let me show you love,” “characteristics of my love.” Love is characterized, demonstrated, and iterated over time (“every day we go…”).
  

• Reciprocity and Permission: The lyric seeks mutuality: don’t let me go; let me show you love. It requests room to act while outlining an expectation of being held onto. The relationship dynamic is presented as cooperative rather than unilateral.
  

• Code-Switching as Intimacy: Shifts between English, Pidgin, and Yoruba aren’t ornamental—they signal closeness, cultural rootedness, and emotional nuance. Formal phrasing (“characteristics”) alongside pet names (“Oloyin… Tomato”) shows love expressed in multiple registers.
  

• Surrender vs. Agency: “It’s not even in my power” acknowledges an emotional pull bigger than the self, while “Mi o ki n ṣ’olodo” asserts capability and initiative. The speaker is both compelled by love and committed to acting within it.
  Repetition as Reassurance: The circular return to “soon,” “promise,” and “pillow” transforms repetition into comfort. Saying it again is the point—the vow is reinforced by restating it, mirroring how reassurance works in real relationships.