[Intro: spoken, a courthouse clerk, then the horns hit] Please rise. Raise your right hand [Verse 1: proud male MC] Came up at nineteen with a backpack and a cousin's address Dish pit at Bruno's, eight a.m. to whenever, no rest Chef Bruno, six-foot-three, with a voice like a garbage truck Called me every name in two languages, and a third when I was stuck "Faster!" "Hot behind!" "Who taught you how to sear?" Threw a pan of risotto at the wall my second year Learned the line from the bottom, dish to prep to sauté Twelve stations, twenty years, and I never missed a day Burn scars up both arms, I can read 'em like a menu Every Mother's Day, every prom, every wedding at the venue [Hook: proud male MC, big] Twenty years they swore at me, today I'm sworn in Right hand up like I'm callin' tickets, burn scars on the skin Every name they ever called me on the line, I took it with a grin Twenty years they swore at me. Today I'm sworn in [Verse 2: proud male MC, harder] Hundred civics questions on a napkin in my apron Read 'em on my smoke breaks while the walk-in fan was shakin' Three branches, thirteen colonies, I knew 'em like a recipe Said the words out loud to the fryer, and the fryer said 'em next to me Lady at the interview asked six, I answered six, I said, "That's it?" She said, "Sir, you passed." I said, "I been passin' plates since oh-six" Then the letter came, the date, the courthouse, and the time on it Taped it to the walk-in door, and Bruno saw and didn't comment Just grunted, "Who's gonna work the Thursday?" and he walked off to the back I said, "Chef, I'll swap a double." He said, "No." And that was that [Hook: proud male MC, big] Twenty years they swore at me, today I'm sworn in Right hand up like I'm callin' tickets, burn scars on the skin Every name they ever called me on the line, I took it with a grin Twenty years they swore at me. Today I'm sworn in [Verse 3: proud male MC, the horns kick harder] Courthouse, Thursday, nine a.m., a hundred and nine of us Forty-one countries in our good shoes, nervous, actin' tough And who's that in the back row in his kitchen whites and clogs? Six-foot-three and cryin' like he's choppin' every onion in the box Then the clerk reads off the sponsors and the name on my petition "Bruno Castellano," twenty-fourteen, signed it in the kitchen Twenty years of cussin' me so loud the dining room could hear And the whole time he was signin' papers just to keep me here I raised my right hand, and I swore it, every word Then Bruno yelled, "Hurry up, damn it!" Sweetest thing I ever heard [Key Change: up a whole step, the horns and drums go full] [Final Hook: proud male MC, biggest] Twenty years he swore at me, today I'm sworn in Right hand up like I'm callin' tickets, burn scars on the skin Every name he ever called me was him refusin' to let me be Twenty years he swore at me. Turns out he swore by me [Outro: spoken, proud male MC, laughing] Hot behind, Chef. Hot behind [End]
