Receipt Season

Yeah…

Second Shift Samurai back on the scene,

Cleanin’ up wrecks they pretend ain’t been seen.

Front shift talk brave like they never slip…

Cool story — I brought receipts for every trip.

Step aside, rookie — Samurai swingin’ through the aisle,

Fixing all your PO mix-ups while you’re practicin’ denial.

You swear you never miss, claim perfection every day,

But your screen look like a toddler pressed buttons to play.

I walk in late evening, warehouse quiet like a tomb,

’Til I find your little disasters scattered all through the room.

Wrong PO, wrong line, wrong item — same dance,

You leave chaos in the shadows, I correct it in a glance.

But you pound your chest loud when supervisors walk in,

Talkin’ “I never mess up!” — boy, cut the violin.

Your confidence? Fake. Your work? Paper-thin.

I clean your mistakes daily — that’s where the story begins.

I’m the Second Shift Samurai, slicin’ through lies,

Fixin’ every mess that your ego can’t recognize.

You hide from accountability, duck and disguise —

But tonight I’m droppin’ receipts, watch your reputation die.

Yesterday? Man… you had the PO all wrong,

But instead of owning your slip, you hum a perfect-song.

“I don’t mess up, never have!” — yeah, that’s cute,

But your paperwork reads different, homie — that’s the proof.

See, I fix it behind the scenes ‘cause integrity’s my trait,

While you panic in the daylight hopin’ no one sees your fate.

You fragile as glass, breakin’ under your own myth,

Throw a tantrum every time reality starts to shift.

You want credit for the crown when you barely lift the throne,

Actin’ flawless, when your errors could fill a storage zone.

I’m tired of bein’ silent, tired of lettin’ you skate —

Now I’m droppin’ clean facts that even you can’t debate.

I’m the Second Shift Samurai, slicin’ through lies,

Fixin’ every flaw that your pride won’t recognize.

You crumble when confronted, tears fillin’ your eyes —

Now I’m showin’ every receipt, no more alibis.

I’m done cleanin’ shadows while you flex in the light,

Done lettin’ clowns claim power they don’t earn in the fight.

You want truth? Here’s truth — I make mistakes right.

You just pray no one sees yours under fluorescent night.

Your whole aura’s counterfeit, a performance on repeat,

Tryna act like top tier while I mop up your defeat.

You scream perfect — I laugh — perfection’s not your lane,

Your work’s a comedy sketch that I’m tired of watchin’ again.

So keep pretendin’ you flawless, keep cryin’ when you shook,

But the Samurai’s here now — that’s a whole different book.

Receipts in my hand, truth swingin’ like a blade,

And the warehouse gonna witness every mess that you made.

Next time you claim perfect, make sure the paperwork agrees.

‘Cause the Second Shift Samurai?

I bring order.

I bring truth.

And tonight…

I brought receipts.