Mind Ya Bizness, PSS

Why you worried ’bout my time when your time almost up?

Actin’ like a supervisor — boy, you barely keep up.

Talking like a manager, but you ain’t got no rank,

Flexin’ PSS letters while your workload blank.

You clock out early and still talk loud, that’s wild,

Get treated like a favorite, got privilege since a child.

Say I’m the favorite? Nah, homie, that’s projection,

You’re the teacher’s pet of the warehouse section.

Every day you nose-deep in business that ain’t yours,

Gossip king of the docks, sneaking notes like chores.

I come in late one time, your whole spine start shivering,

Meanwhile you vanish at random — no discipline given.

Mind ya bizness, PSS.

Stop watchin’ my shift, PSS.

You ain’t a leader, don’t pretend, PSS.

Focus on yourself before the truth gets addressed.

Mind ya bizness, PSS.

Before I start dropping hints, no rest.

Keep talkin’, you’ll expose yourself next —

This ain’t a threat, it’s a lyrical check.

You walk around acting legendary with zero stats,

Warehouse Hall of Fame? You ain’t even close to that.

Your badge says PSS but your grind don’t match,

Your ego’s heavy but your effort’s trash.

Always claiming you hold it down,

But you crumble every shift when real work comes around.

Playin’ victim every time you get called out,

Then point fingers hoping they forget your drought.

You act bold till pressure pushes back,

Then hide behind first shift like you leading the pack.

You ain’t running nothin’, just loud with no weight,

A hallway politician with a weak debate.

Mind ya bizness, PSS.

Stop watchin’ my shift, PSS.

You ain’t a leader, don’t pretend, PSS.

Focus on yourself before the truth gets addressed.

Mind ya bizness, PSS.

Before I start dropping hints, no rest.

Keep talkin’, you’ll expose yourself next —

This ain’t a threat, it’s a lyrical check.

I don’t name names…

But don’t tempt me.

Every favorite got a story…

Every story got receipts.

Play it smart, homie.

I’m the second-shift soldier, the after-hours beast,

While you run for the exit like you signed a lease.

I carry whole loads while you carry excuses,

Try to play boss but the warehouse ain’t clueless.

I grind in silence, let results speak loud,

You just talk in circles trying to wow your crowd.

Every time you whisper, you expose your fear,

’Cause deep down you know real work lives here.

So keep watchin’ me —

It just shows your obsession.

But keep playin’ with fire,

You’ll learn a hard lesson.

Stay in your lane, lil’ man —

That’s the final suggestion.

Next time you clock in…

Clock in your focus.

Not on me.

Not on my shift.

Not on my time.

Mind ya bizness…

Or someone might start connectin’ dots.