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Lyrics
[Verse]
Bob at sixty-five still livin with his dad
Slamming down the wrenches when he gets mad
Micro-managing parts with a fiery glance
Throwin' tools around like he's in a trance
[Verse 2]
In the commercial zone he's got us on the ropes
Running crazy like a circus without any hope
Cuss words flyin' like sparks from a wheel
Man's a hurricane you hope ain't real
[Chorus]
Bob's tantrums make the shelves shake
Every swear an earthquake
In the AutoZone where we find
Chaos rules and order's blind
[Verse 3]
He’s watchin’ every move like we’re on parole
Grumpy ol' boss takin’ his toll
Sweatin' bullets as we stock and sort
Under his watch we can't retort
[Bridge]
Shift after shift and day by day
We navigate the madness in our own way
Bob's storms are fierce but we survive
AutoZone life's crazy but we stay alive
[Verse 4]
Shelves of wiper blades and oil cans
Dodging Bob’s moods as best as we can
In this shop we call our home
We hustle hard from dawn till gloam
Details
GeneratedDec 27, 2024
Duration3:11
Credits
Prompt byHypnoticTheremin97
ModelAria v4
Prompt
Working at AutoZone with a Bob, a 65 year old boss who who lives with his dad and has temper tantrums and swears slamming things. Who micro manages the commercial department arabic egyptian
