Mechanic diss

Yo, it’s your boy from the front, boots in the dirt,
While y’all in the back playin’ dress-up in a grease-stained shirt,
Call it a wrench? Man, please, you ain’t fixed a thing,
Truck’s still broke down — guess the motor’s got wings.

"Deadline it!" — every time there's a squeak,
You write it up fast then disappear for a week,
Sippin’ on coffee in your A/C shed,
While I’m humpin’ miles with a pack full of lead.

You say you’re support? But supportin' what?
A line of Humvees still stuck in the lot?
"You need parts" — yeah, we heard that line,
Since ‘09, that same excuse been buyin’ you time.

Wanna ride in the convoy? Not today,
You still tryin’ to figure out where that bolt should lay,
Got grease on your hands but no work done,
I’ve seen more movement from a broke-down gun.

You got jokes ‘bout grunts not knowin' the tech?
But I’d rather carry weight than stare at a spec,
Y’all got tools, manuals, and time to chill,
But when the pressure hits? It's the grunts who kill.

So shoutout to the wrench, and the socket too,
But if war pops off — who they callin’? Not you.
I respect the trade, but let’s be real,
You fix trucks — we fix the battlefield.