Minimum Wage Legend

Verse 1

Look,

Strap on the apron, tuck in the shirt

You’re a "superstar" Joe, covered in dirt

Talking 'bout Nashville, acting so hood

But you’re back of the house, where you stood and you stood

Checking the timer, flipping the meat

While you’re out in these streets being nothing but cheat

You played a big game with a hat and a grin

While you carried a sickness underneath your skin.

Chorus

You’re a local joke, a bottom-shelf fake

Everything you touch is a life you break

Gave me a disease then you took my kid

Then ran like a rat from the things you did

Clocked out of the clinic, clocked into the grill

You’re a low-life coward with no soul to fill.

Verse 2

Twelve hours later, yeah, that was the play?

Wait for the trauma then just walk away?

You think you’re an outlaw, a king of the road

But you’re just a parasite, a heavy-set load

I was bleeding and broken, you were checking your phone

Praying for a break so you could be alone

You’re "kitchen staff" living a country-song lie

The only thing "grand" is the oil in the fry.

Bridge

Check the receipts, check the blood on the floor

I’m a whole lot of woman, you’re a whole lot of "poor"

Not talking ‘bout money, I’m talking ‘bout heart

You’re a generic brand version of a bad work of art.

Verse 3

But let's talk about low, let's talk about bottom

You took all your morals and decided you shot 'em

Went to a concert, tried to act like a man

With your ex-girlfriend’s mama in the back of a van?

Yeah, you’re hitting the high notes, screaming her name

While you’re ruining families, you got no shame

Sleeping with her mother? That’s a brand new peak

For a "country star" fry-cook, you’re a certified freak.

Verse 4

So go ahead, Joe, keep singing your songs

To the drive-thru window where you belong

"You want fries with that?"—man, that’s your peak

While I’m burning the bridge of a coward and sneak

You left me at zero, but I’m rising up fast

You’re a stain on my sleeve, you’re a ghost in the past.

Verse 5

In this small town, Joe, there ain't nowhere to hide

We all know about the snow that you’re keeping inside

Yeah, you’re sniffing your paycheck, chasing that high

Then you wet the bed while the sun’s in the sky

Waking up in a puddle, looking pathetic and weak

With a micropenis energy and a yellow-stained sheet

You and Grace making "plans"? Yeah, we see the design

Childish games for a man with a broken-down spine.

Outro

Keep the uniform on.

Keep the grease in your hair.

I’m the one who survived.

You’re the one who wasn't there.

(Mic drop)