Shot down - Big Mike Style скачать в хорошем качестве

Shot down - Big Mike Style

This song is not about any particular person. Lyrics: Shut it down, man down Big Mike comin' to your town, I'ma clean it out Put 'em in a hearse, throw 'em in the ground Pull up in a big body and I'm sittin' on a pound Ayy, look, Big Mike, gotta shut it down Ayy, look, Big Mike, many men are doing down Ayy, look, Big Mike, clearing the ground Big Mike, pull up in a big body and I'm sittin' on a pound "Can we work from home?", HELL NO! Can we get our bonus? HELL NO! "Can we get a raise?" Sit down bitch, or get a slap to your face. Big Mike in the house, with a gun in his waist, bald head, mandate, taking over the place Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Pink slips rain—forecast say “severance clouds,” HR on mute while I’m clearing out crowds. Board votes yes, I don’t care who’s proud, Quarter gotta hit, I’ll bury that loud. Spreadsheeet sniper—line items in sights, Turn headcount to headstones by the end of the night. “Synergy,” “efficiency”—dress it up nice, But the axe got a suit on, steel under the tie. “Are we safe this quarter?” HELL NO! “Can we keep our team?” HELL NO! “Can we push the date?” Sit down quick, before I change your fate. Big Mike with the plan, cold eyes on the slate, Steel briefcase, clean cut, locking the gates. Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Shut it down (down), shut it down (down) Big Mike walk in—no smiles, just crowns. Shut it down (down), shut it down (down) If I circle your line, that line’s not around. Whole floor shake when the budget get read, I sign one page—half the building is dead. “Culture, community”—I’m two steps ahead, Profit my religion, I tithe in red. Zoom room silence, cameras off but they cry, I don’t chase feelings, I’m married to PI. Numbers don’t lie so your stories can die, If it don’t lift EPS, it’s goodbye. “Can we do remote?” HELL NO! “Can we switch the goals?” HELL NO! “Can we see the list?” Mind your biz before you cease to exist. Big Mike with the stamp, black ink on the wrist, One stroke—poof—welcome to the risk. Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style No love in the ledger, only red to the edges, I pledge to the spread where the margin alleges. If the cost don’t bend, then the headcount hedges, I prune with a pen, watch the forest get edged. Then—double-time— Stock tick pop when the cut get deep, Street get fed while the floor lose sleep, Cold as a vault with a code I keep, I reap what I write, and I write to reap. Corner office coffin, glass walls for the view, I toast to the ghosts of the goals I slew. Got a board on my back and a clause that’s new— Golden parachute, but the sky stay blue. I don’t blink on a “please,” I don’t pause on a “why,” I was born for the heat, I put ice in the sky. If the runway short, I got wings I buy, Big Mike touchdown—watch balance sheets fly. “Can we get our bonus?” HELL NO! “Can we keep our place?” HELL NO! “Can we catch a break?” Take a number, babe—then break like a plate. Big Mike in control, set the hour and date, Clock in your fate, then I lock the gate. Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Raw dog, gang bang, Big Mike style Shut it down (echo)—man down, lights out, no sound, Big Mike sign once…and the city is a ghost town.