Snitch Breath, Cold Cuts

I don’t explode.

I dissect.

Pay attention.

⸻

One write-up cracked you, now you squealin’ like a rat,

Throwin’ bodies in the fire just to save your weak ass.

Crying “selective discipline” — nah, you sloppy, got seen,

Now you snitchin’ on the room hopin’ guilt split the screen.

Paper spine, bitch heart, fold fast under light,

Point fingers everywhere but won’t own one night.

Snitch breath thick, whole aisle smell like fear,

You ain’t persecuted, motherfucker — you just trash, clear.

⸻

Snitch breath, soft backs, loud mouths, no pride,

Say “that ain’t my job,” then complain shit died.

Disappear all shift, reappear at the gate,

Funny how it’s flawless every night I stay late.

⸻

Stick boy nasal talk, always soundin’ clogged,

All bark, no presence, straight workplace fog.

Missing when it’s heavy, brave when it’s done,

Talk like a king, work like a scared little one.

Always got excuses, never hands in the mess,

Union-shield laziness wrapped in fake stress.

You don’t hate the rules — you hate gettin’ exposed,

Hate mirrors, hate truth, hate effort the most.

⸻

I move silent, fix shit you don’t even clock,

Patch leaks in the system before pressure pop.

Behind-the-scenes warfare so the day stay clean,

So nobody else suffer — that’s discipline.

I don’t beg for applause, I don’t fish for respect,

But don’t confuse my silence for ignorance or neglect.

I erase your fuck-ups, leave the lane smooth,

While you hide behind “not my job” like a fuckin’ excuse.

⸻

Snitch breath, rat talk, cry foul when named,

Lazy motherfuckers scream unfair when they shamed.

You fear accountability more than real work,

That’s why truth feel violent when it punch you first.

⸻

I’m sick of bare-minimum clowns gettin’ passes to coast,

While the ones carryin’ weight get ignored the most.

I do extra by default — not for praise, not fame,

Just so everybody else don’t drown in your shame.

You mad you got called out? Then work, bitch.

You mad you feel seen? That’s the burn, bitch.

If this track hit hard and your chest feel tight,

That’s your fuckin’ reflection gettin’ beat by light.

⸻

No names.

No warnings.

Second Shift Samurai.

I don’t miss shit