Pitson - Niache Niimbe - siku moja Lyrics
Lyrics
Siku moja mama nitakujengea , Nyumba ya kifahari uishi poa mama, na pesa za muziki Siku moja baba nitakununulia, gari la kifahari uendeshepoa baba, na pesa za muziki Siku moja dada nitakulipia, karo ya shule, uende university, na pesa za muziki Siku moja brother nitakufungulia biashara kubwa, uwe sonko brother, na pesa za muziki
Ikiwa ntakua rubani , niendeshe ndege, niwe rubani , rubani anaimba na Ikiwa ntakua karani, karani wa benki, niwe karani, karani anaimba Ikiwa ntakua waziri, waziri wa serikali , niwe waziri, waziri anaimba Oh popote niendapo, chochote nifanyacho, yeyote nitakuwa, niwe naimba.
Mama na baba naomba mniache niimbe Niache niimbe, niache niimbe, niache, niache niimbe. Shule nitaenda lakini niache niimbe, Niache niimbe, niache niimbe, niache,niimbe. kazi nitafanya lakini mniache niimbe Niache niimbe, niache niimbe, niache,niimbe. Mimi naahidi ntaimba nyimbo za injili Niache niimbe, niache niimbe, niache,niimbe.
Mungu ni mwaminifu, Mungu ni mwaminifu, Mungu ni mwaminifu, Mungu ni mwaminifu Hakuna anayeweza hajapewa kitu cha kufanya, Mungu ni mwaminifu, Mungu ni mwaminifu, Wengine wanauza nguo gikosh Wenginewanashona ah, Wengine wamekonda wanakimbia, mabouncer wameshona. Wengine maodijo, polisi, ma CEO, ma M.D, ma H.U.S.T.L.E.R mahustler
Ikiwa ntakua rubani , niendeshe ndege, niwe rubani , rubani anaimba na Ikiwa ntakua karani, karani wa benki, niwe karani, karani anaimba Ikiwa ntakua waziri, waziri wa serikali , niwe waziri, waziri anaimba Oh popote niendapo, chochote nifanyacho, yeyote nitakuwa, niwe naimba. Niache niimbe, niache niimbe, niache, niache niimbe. Shule nitaenda lakini niache niimbe, Niache niimbe, niache niimbe, niache,niimbe. kazi nitafanya lakini mniache niimbe Niache niimbe, niache niimbe, niache,niimbe. Mimi naahidi ntaimba nyimbo za injili Niache niimbe, niache niimbe, niache,niimbe.
Sitakuangusha mama, Sitakuangusha baba Uniache niimbe, uniache niimbe, uniache niimbe, uniache Uniache niteremke mama , teremke mama, teremke mama, eh Uniache niimbe, uniache niimbe, uniache niimbe, uniache oh Sitakuangusha mama, Sitakuangusha baba Uniache niimbe, uniache niimbe, uniache
Video
Pitson - Niache Niimbe (Official Video) SMS "SKIZA 9040715" to 811
Meaning & Inspiration
There is a strange, jarring honesty in Pitson’s Niache Niimbe. Most worship songs we curate in our sets aim for the vertical—straight up to the throne, eyes closed, hands lifted. But this track starts somewhere much more grounded, almost stubbornly horizontal. He begins by talking about buying his mother a house, paying for his sister’s tuition, and setting his brother up in business.
As someone who spends his life thinking about how a congregation breathes through a song, I find this approach fascinating. Often, we try to skip the "life" part to get to the "hallelujah" part. We tell people to forget their bills, their siblings, and their careers the moment they walk through the doors. Pitson does the opposite. He drags all of that into the sanctuary with him.
The tension lies in that recurring plea: “Niache niimbe”—let me sing. It sounds like a negotiation between personal ambition and a calling. When he lists being a pilot, a clerk, or a government minister, he isn't just dreaming of careers; he is wrestling with the integration of faith and work. It reminds me of Colossians 3:23, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord." But Pitson adds a twist: whatever that work is, it must be accompanied by the song. It’s a refusal to let the mundanity of a desk job or the prestige of a ministry office suffocate his witness.
But here is where the "Landing" gets tricky. Is he singing for the family he wants to provide for, or is he singing because he’s caught a glimpse of something eternal?
When the chorus shifts into, “Mimi naahidi ntaimba nyimbo za injili”—I promise I will sing Gospel songs—there is a slight pull toward a transactional faith. It feels like he’s telling his parents, "If you let me do this thing, I promise it will be for God." It’s an honest, raw human moment. It isn’t the polished, theological perfection we often demand of our anthems. It’s the sound of someone trying to convince themselves and their family that the path of a creative believer is viable.
The song leaves the listener in an unresolved state. We aren't left standing at the foot of the Cross in quiet contemplation; we are left standing in the middle of the marketplace, holding a microphone. It challenges the congregation to ask: If I weren't standing here in the sanctuary, would I still be "singing"? Would my life, in whatever role I occupy tomorrow morning, have this same persistent, stubborn devotion to the Gospel? It’s not a comfortable place to leave a room, but perhaps it’s a necessary one. We need fewer songs that hide from our responsibilities and more that learn how to carry them while still singing.