A-Deck Anthem (Triple Seven Grindin’)

Yo, this ain’t the front, this the aft of the beast,

Triple Seven frame, where the real work feast.

A-deck in the house, while B-deck naps —

We stitch it up clean, like the triple seven raps.

Welcome to the line where the rivets hit deep,

Where the aft gets built, and the bosses lose sleep.

They call us that B-2, cuz we got shit on lock,

While these B-deck hoes only talk the talk

Marc‘s the boss man, with a beard like Gandalf the Wizard

And then there’s Bud - he’s about as old as a lizard.

Go Dough’s the leed, steady callin’ the play,

While Jamal out here taggin’ that he was here everyday.

Bald ass Dave’s the cracker truth, passin’ knowledge like flame,

And Jamal’s his protégé, still tryin’ to earn that name.

Kay-Jin might be a spy, and Jacob’s new as fuck,

And if you see Skinny Scott with something heavy, bitches better duck

A-deck rise up, we don’t sleep on the job,

While B-deck fumbles, we steady mob.

We A-deck ya heard? Ain’t no plane without us

And we don’t get like B-deck do, on that Boeing short bus.

Louise just vanished, ain’t seen him in a minute,

Rumor is ICE scooped him up, got his ass in mid-rivet.

Josh and Ross - they on the three lap like Bert & Ernie,

While York’s losing whole paychecks on the Kentucky Derby.

Kilo’s usually somewhere off in outer space,

Perpetually lost look on his stupid fuckin’ face.

And there’s Johnny, Julia and Ryan ya feel?

But of that trio, I think Ryan’s the third wheel.

Keegan and New Rodney? Ghosts in the mist,

Doin rework that got some ass hole on some ass holes shit list

And then we got the twenty four lap,

But they all gave each other the clap — no cap.

A-deck rise up, we don’t sleep on the job,

While B-deck fumbles, we steady mob.

We A-deck ya heard? Ain’t no plane without us

And we don’t get like B-deck do, on that Boeing short bus.

Every bolt, every seal, we stamp with pride,

From the tail to the wings, this Boeing bonafide.

We had like six more, but they got sent to twenty one —

Cuz none of em knew their asses from a rivet gun.

We grind through the heat, through the snow, through the rain,

Eye peas in hand, triple seven pimpin’ a plane.

Aft body gang, we got that steel in our veins,

We don’t just build these beasts — we make art with these frames.

While B-deck strolls, on them sixty minute lunch,

We deep in the frame, gettin’ torque by the bunch.

Industrial athlete always talkin’ “take good care of your body”

While Boeing says “Hey guys, go shit in a port a potty”

It’s a brotherhood, sisterhood - we Boeing, fam,

And if Jamal keeps taggin’ shit he gonna get a cam.

Clock in, lock in, tool up, just facts —

We the ones out here bringin’ Boeing back.

A-deck rise up, we don’t sleep on the job,

While B-deck fumbles, we clean up the slob.

We A-deck ya heard? Ain’t no plane without us

And we don’t get like B-deck do, on that Boeing short bus.