[Verse] Fast Joe posted up, spatula grip a wand, Patties on the flat-top, flipping magic like the Don. BrewDog backdrop, smoke and oil blend strong, Chuck Norris on the apron, calling the beef a song. [Verse 2] Man's grilling secret sauce, stashed in a Patriot's flag, Burgers golden brown as coins in a treasure bag. Young Clucks outside, chickens dodging smoke in swag, Flipping birds so hard, they think we dropped a mag. [Chorus] BrewDog kitchen where the hustle don't sleep, Patriot cuisine carved in grills burning deep. Fast Joe the prophet, flipping beef like beliefs, Dreams served with fries, stacked high in reliefs. [Verse 3] Grease popping symphonies, a greasy crown for his dome, Burgers done so crispy, they'd call it chef’s poem. Chuck Norris squinting, says the seasoning’s a throne, Fast Joe smirks back, says, "this fryer’s my home." [Bridge] Stacks of buns tower high, a cathedral to grind, Young Clucks marinating time, perfection designed. Oil like alchemy, gold from meat they refined, The anthem spitting fire on a food chain inclined. [Verse 4] Fast Joe tiptoes like Norris brought the mission, Flipping patties, man’s a knight with a greasy vision. Young Clucks wings out, scattered like incisions, Patriotic flavors in every burger division.
