Square Cow Motto

Square Cow Motto

(“Fuck it” — the motto)

A funky, gritty warehouse banger from Dillon, Joe, Brandon & Jamaican Paul.

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Wake up broke, sore, and late—

Still got a full damn house to freight.

Manager don’t know left from right?

We just mutter: “Fuck it — load it tight.”

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Kurt said “easy,” that’s a damn lie,

It’s a three-truck house and the third can’t drive.

Client say “that’s delicate,” still I toss it,

Motto say fuck it — wrap it in the closet.

No lunch break, got blood on the pad,

Shoulda quit yesterday, but I’m back like dad.

Got screws in my arm, metal in my wrist,

Still movin’ couches with a goddamn twist.

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Square Cow Motto — fuck it, stack it, send it,

Rain comin’ down but the job ain’t ended.

Fuel light on and the ramp ain’t straight,

But we ain’t stoppin’ — we fuck it through fate.

Sweatin’, cursin’, drenched in grime,

Crew yellin’ loud while we beat that time.

Fuck it — that’s the motto, say it proud,

Square Cow boys screamin’ it out loud.

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I rolled up late, still leadin’ the shift,

Truck 35 squeakin’ like it’s bout to lift.

Joe in the back yellin’ “pull this quick!”

Client trippin’? Man, fuck that chick.

“Don’t scratch my floors” — too damn late,

You booked three safes and a solid gold crate.

Ain’t no gloves, no tips, no clue,

But we movin’ it all — with one shoe.

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Square Cow Motto — fuck it, lift it, ride,

Whole crew broken but we still got pride.

Stairs too tight? Couch won’t fit?

We say fuck it and force that shit.

Tips? Low. Time? Gone.

Crew still movin’ with the lights turned on.

Fuck it — one code, one creed,

Square Cow Motto — we all believe.

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Mi carry yuh sofa like a coffin in church,

Corporate call, but mi still do di work.

Dolly dem squeak, ramp dem bend,

But mi say “fuck it,” mi lift again.

Mi nah stop till di job done clean,

Brandon twerkin’ on di dolly like a machine.

Paul don’t flinch when di boss go mute,

Mi just wrap di glass and mi twist di chute.

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Square Cow Motto — fuck it, book it, move it,

Tell dispatch we wild and we proved it.

Strap that safe to a plastic bin,

Then smile like, “Fuck it — throw it in.”

Hours too high? They cry at the desk,

But we still grindin’ like we wore Kevlar vests.

Fuck it — Square Cow life gets rough,

But this our motto, and that’s enough.

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Yo — tell corporate get out my face,

Talkin’ ‘bout metrics? We outta space.

Pulled a whole damn move with one flat tire,

Still made it on time while the truck caught fire.

They watch the cams like we ain’t aware,

Tryna dock my hours while I’m in the air.

Had to lift a fridge with a ratchet strap,

Fuck it — Square Cow, welcome to the trap.

We the backbone, knees blown, spine cracked,

Still movin’ like beasts with the truck half packed.

So next time they ask why we curse and sweat,

Tell ‘em: “Motto, bitch — now cut the check.”