Boot up the PCs, boys ready to deploy,
Warzone on the screen.
Call of Duty or rocket league nights, squad in the lobby deep,
Ivan don’t care, “What we playing tonight?”
Warzone,rocket ?, he down for the fight.
Certified forklift, maintenance in the day,
Clocking out from work just to clock in and play.
(Verse 2)
Samuel on the console, still living in the past,
Stone Age graphics, loading screens that last.
Gets destroyed in Rocket League, COD, every game,
Church girls in Austin still calling his name.
Muted his mic, we can’t hear what he say,
Probably raging quietly while getting sprayed.
He tries his best, but the scoreboard don’t lie,
Respawning every minute, asking “How’d I die?”
(Verse 3)
Santos gets by, holding down the squad,
Not MVP, but he still plays
Plane flying over, everybody looking down,
Santos clears his throat, says it loud and proud:
“Where we landing, Control?” like he don’t know the plan,
Even though we picked that spot like ten times again.
(Verse 4)
Angel carrying heavy, backpack full of kills,
Reviving both teammates while climbing up the hills.
Clutching every win, dropping 20 a game,
Keeping the whole squad alive and carrying the name.
Samuel gets cooked, Santos starts to fade,
Ivan still grinding like he’s on second shift late.
But once the clock hits and the energy drops,
The party gets quiet and the gaming all stops.
(Chorus)
We on the game with the boys all night,
Warzone lobbies under monitor light.
PC master race, except Samuel’s delay,
Angel carrying everybody every day.
We say “Good game, boys,” but the fun keeps going on.
No matter who wins, one thing’s always true:
The best part of gaming is kicking it with the crew But tomorrow night we run it from the start
