He even attempted the Bryson Tiller verse, but instead of smooth vocals, he went into a full "Dad Rant" flow.

He took a deep breath and began to belt it out, his heavy Nigerian accent turning the sultry R&B track into a rhythmic lecture.

Just as he hit a high, vibrating note on the word "Respect!" , the passenger door opened. Titi stood there, frozen, her jaw hitting the pavement. Behind her, three of her friends were already filming the spectacle on their own phones.

"Too much nakedness in these words," he muttered. He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and hit 'Record' on his phone. If the world was going to listen to this rhythm, they needed a version with more... home training.

Mr. Okoro didn't blink. He adjusted his cap, ended the recording, and looked at his daughter.

"I don't know if you could take it!" he sang, pointing a stern finger at the camera. "Know you wanna see me n-n-naked!" He stopped, horrified. "God forbid! No!" He restarted.

"Jet skis? In this economy? You want to go to Miami? Have you finished the yam in the pantry? You say you're 'flexing,' I say you are stressing my blood pressure! If I see you with a boy, he must have a Master's degree or I will call the police!"