(Intro)
Yeah…
It’s your boy York
Two years on that Boeing tip,
And allegedly on that Epstein list. No comment.
Let’s get it!
(Verse 1)
Two years deep Boeing blue, still ain’t got it down
Still tryin to take a piece of Boeing tail to pound town.
But I can flex on a torque wrench, cool as a mister misty
Call me “Mr. Mostly Kinda” when I’m feelin’ frisky.
Mark the boss man — steady growin that beard
Turns out I’m not the fuckin idiot that he once feared.
Go dough my leed, tryna show me how how to stamp an eye pee
I tell him, for real tho… some day I’ll learn that shit - seriously
(Hook)
Two years deep, still learning the fine print
And one HR witch hunt, but they couldn’t prove intent
We aft bodies in this bitch, we runnin this shit
And of the tail seems like it’s too easy, it’s gonna give you the ick
Cajun got the ying, Skinny Scott got the yang
And Jacob’s so fuckin young he’s out here sippin Tang
Ross on that three lap, and Alex out here fallin out
And I’m just that bald dude — tryna learn what it’s all about.
(Verse 2)
Yeah, sometimes I chill, like if I’m waitin’ on Q A
But I’m slick with excuses — got a hundred on display
Like “my air’s not on” or “Sea Miss is down,”
Or “I’m waitin’ on Jamal, dude ain’t been around”
Hugo in the corner just shakin’ his head
While Danny got up this morning, outta his tiny race car bed
Me? I’m more of a vibe — call it functionally chaotic
I’m the king of lookin’ busy when I’m clearly just neurotic
But don’t get it twisted, I hold down my bar line
I’m that dude that delivers when it’s nut crunch time
From Eff Tea Sea to the shop, rising like bread being leavened
Well on my fuckin way to being a Boeing legend.
(Hook)
Two years deep, still learning the fine print
And one HR witch hunt, but they couldn’t prove intent
We aft bodies in this bitch, we out here runnin point
Just ask Marv - never mind, he out smokin a joint.
Cajun got the ying, Skinny Scott got the yang
And Jacob’s so fuckin young he’s out here sippin Tang
Ross on that three lap, and Alex out here fallin out
And I’m just that bald dude — tryna learn what it’s all about.
(Bridge – slow ride)
But it’s love, it’s a crew, it’s the best kinda mess
You might see chaos—but this chaos’s blessed
Sometimes I wonder, man, how’d I get to this spot?
Then I see my boys, and I know, God ain’t forgot
We clock in, clock out, tryna keep our build on track
Even when Jacob’s more focused on his fuckin snack pack
(Outro)
So here’s to the crew, to the misfits and pros
To the grind, to the jokes, and all the fine-ass, not here hoes
And here’s to Jamal - yo you know that’s my dude
Even if his ass do sometimes act a little Georgia rude
And here’s to year three, and whatever it may bring
And to all the other Boeing cats, out here doin the same thing.
dyork55