Bullet patcher

Yo,
They call you Doc? Please, you ain't no threat,
Just patchin’ up dudes who already lost bets.
You run through the smoke with your little red bag,
While real ones push forward and plant that flag.

You got bandages? Cute. I got bandoliers.
While you’re cryin’ over wounds, I’m igniting fear.
You stitchin’ up cuts, I’m cuttin' careers,
You saving lives — I’m ending ‘em here.

Yeah, run up with morphine, try to be bold,
But you freeze when the metal gets hot and cold.
Tryna drag a man out with a hole in his soul,
I’m the reason that he’s leakin' — I’m in full control.

You the clean-up crew, I’m the main event,
I make war stories — you just pitch the tent.
Try to flex that cross on your arm like a badge?
But without us in front, you’d be zipped in a bag.

I'm first in the breach, last out the fight,
You check pulses I take out lights.
You react, I act, yeah, that’s the divide,
While you bring 'em back, I make ‘em flatline.

So next time you step to a frontliner’s track,
Just know without us, you ain’t bringin’ nothin’ back.
Respect the role but don’t try to boast,
You're a ghost with gauze I’m the warlord most.