Barcode Don’t Lie

Whole floor tight.

Forklifts hum like they gaggin’ on bullshit.

Schedule flash—

snake breath behind safety colors.

⸻

Clock in—

I smell a lie before you speak.

Sideways slither,

coward energy weak.

Mouth full of venom,

spine full of air,

Rumors float heavy

like piss in the air.

Backstabbing fuck

with a smile you ain’t earn,

Talk shit on the break,

run when tables turn.

Instigator-ass bitch,

spark in a bone-dry dock,

Turn a whisper to chaos,

then vanish when it pop.

Point fingers, wash hands,

act holy and blessed,

But the scanner scream foul

every time you get checked.

“That ain’t what I said,”

“I just heard,” same trash—

Lyin’-ass rat

with a forked-ass mask.

⸻

Warehouse weasel,

bitch-made rat.

Run your mouth all shift,

never carry shit back.

Warehouse weasel,

lights don’t lie.

Whole floor clocked you—

just wait on time.

⸻

Steel toes stomp

but your spine gelatin,

Every shift you invent drama

’cause you empty as shit.

Paper-cut snitch,

office-whisper hoe,

Tryna climb off lies

with a ladder broke.

Good workers get fucked

so you look legit,

But when numbers go south

you don’t own shit.

Throw stones then hide hands,

pray nobody rewind,

But patterns keep receipts,

they just bide time.

Big mouth on the dock,

mute in the room,

All that tough-guy shit

evaporate—poof.

Soul on clearance rack,

integrity gone,

Expired-ass morals

still punchin’ the clock.

⸻

I don’t scream—I dissect,

slow bleed, no rush,

Every move you make

logged, labeled, crushed.

You feed off friction,

sell fear like a pimp,

But parasites panic

when the host ain’t limp.

You climb on backs,

then cry when they snap,

Blame the fall on luck

instead of your act.

I don’t argue with rats,

I let evidence speak,

Cameras don’t blink,

they remember weeks.

When the lights hit white,

ain’t no shadow to slide,

Just a slimy-ass snake

with nowhere to hide.

Second Shift Samurai—

silence stay violent.

We don’t bark threats.

We outlast tyrants.

⸻

Warehouse weasel,

fake-ass grin.

Smile full of lies—

numbers cave in.

Warehouse weasel,

end of your plot.

Truth don’t rush,

but it rot you on spot.

⸻

Keep stirrin’ that pot

’til the footage play back.

Lotus bloom in the dark—

that’s discipline, not slack.

Snakes hate daylight.

That’s warehouse law