Always Late to the Fight

Yeah, it’s that real talk, we settin’ the scene

88 Mike on the track, what’s he really mean?

Yo, 88 Mike, you roll with them wheels,

But when it’s time for war, you just spin your heels.

“Convoy comin’ through!” — bro, we already there,

While you stuck in the rear, just polishin’ air.

You got a CDL but no combat cred,

Only thing you shoot is the breeze in the shed.

Tailgatin’ like it’s NASCAR, flexin' in your cab,

But can't back up a trailer — now that's just sad.

You haul chow and mail, we kick doors and clear,

You beep for reverse, but ain’t no rhyme or fear.

So stay in your lane, don’t swerve in the zone,

Without that GPS, you ain't findin' home.

Speed ain’t everything, it’s the heart you bring,

While you’re stuck on the back, we’re ready to swing.

Heavy on the gas, heavy on the fight,

88 Mike, you better get your system right.

Yeah, we roll with purpose, every mile we own,

While you still stuck just tryna make it home.