Warehouse Grind
Yeah, third shift grind
Warehouse floor to the booth (turn it up,
turn it up)
Forklift beep in the cold night air Double-stacked boxes,
dust in my hair Headphones locked on a ninety-four bounce Counting every
hour, counting every ounce Stacking up paper while the city sleeps tight
Making cold beats under yellow halogen light They want the easy path,
I want the hard grind Leaving all the doubt and the shadows
behind
We keep the trunk knocking,
midnight shift Underneath the pressure,
watching it lift
(watch it lift, yeah)
We keep the trunk knocking,
stacking up the pay From the warehouse floor to the light of
day
Pallet jack rolling, hydraulic hiss Writing down bars that they can't afford
to miss Fingers getting numb but the mind is on fire Every
single track taking me a step higher No handouts given,
no shortcuts planned Building up an empire with my own two hands
Clocking out at six,
another masterclass done Underdog rising with the morning sun
We keep the trunk knocking,
midnight shift Underneath the pressure,
watching it lift
(watch it lift, yeah)
We keep the trunk knocking,
stacking up the pay From the warehouse floor to the light of
day
Yeah, clocking out
(we out)
No more night shifts
Just hits