[INTRO] Formation’s fucked up. Who authorized these geese? You honk when I talk? You honk when I walk? Adorable. The Duck-O-Lisher is in session. [VERSE 1] You ain’t the head goose, you’re the goose I send ahead, To check for hunters where I’m planning to get fed. They promote you to decoy, first shot, you’re out the game, Your mama laid an egg here—you just inherited the shame. You got territorial instincts, no territory to defend, You’re a landlord of a puddle with no power to extend. Your whole crew flies in formation till the first bird breaks, Then it’s every goose for himself and wing-shaped mistakes. You call that loyalty? I’ve seen tighter bonds in bread. Throw one crust into the water, watch your brother sell your head. You eat where I permit, you fly when I decide. You ain’t my competition, you’re my migration guide. [QUACK] [CHORUS] Pecking order! Get your necks in line! You honk for attention, I control feeding time! You ain’t the alpha, you’re the warning sign! Duck-O-Lisher! Know your place in mine! Honk all day, still you ain’t got shit! Big wings, little brains, talking real big! You want my pond? Come and take your turn— You’re the only birds that need a map to find a nest! [VERSE 2] Neck like a question mark, still no answers, Whole flock of yes-men, no leaders, just dancers. You rehearse your war cry, I rehearse your obituaries. You bring a gaggle to a battle, I bring a dictionary. Every bar’s a bread crumb, watch your instincts betray you. I steer your whole career with the scraps that I pay you. You’d sell out your own gosling for a seat by the feeder, Then call yourself a boss ’cause you’re standing two feet nearer. You fly south for the winter, I send you south for good. Your exit plan’s migration dressed up as brotherhood. You’re a decoy with opinions, a lawn ornament with rage, A goose in a gold chain doing minimum-wage intimidation on a stage. Your reflection thinks you’re dangerous. The pond knows you’re a joke. You tried to look like a swan and pulled a fucking muscle in your throat. [BEAT CUT] And that honk? That’s not a threat. That’s your mouth filing a noise complaint against your brain. [DOUBLE-TIME VERSE] I run a tight flock, you run a loose collection Of flightless egos with group-chat protection. I set the pecking order; you mistake the peck for violence. Can’t tell respect from fear or silence from compliance. Goose-step confidence, duck-foot coordination, Big parade, wrong route, no destination. You call that an army? Pond full of conscripts. Every goose a general till the first real shot hits. You want a seat at my table? Bring more than your appetite. You want to call me your rival? That’s a privilege, not a right. You’re not even the goose I fear, you insignificant pest— You’re the goose I use to scare the geese I consider a threat. You claim you run the pond? Explain this contradiction: Every move you make fits neatly in my prediction. Motherfucker, you’re not opposition. Here’s the distinction: I don’t fight for the position. I decide who gets permission. [BREAKDOWN] I don’t hate geese. I hate bad management. And every last one of you keeps honking through the meeting like the minutes are a threat. The minutes will reflect that none of you had a point. [FINAL CHORUS] Pecking order! Get your necks in line! You honk for attention, I control feeding time! You ain’t the alpha, you’re the warning sign! Duck-O-Lisher! Know your place in mine! Honk all day, still you ain’t got shit! Big wings, little brains, talking real big! You want my pond? Come and take your turn— You’re the only birds that need a map to find a nest! [OUTRO] All right, gaggle. Back to work. There’s bread to steal, water to contaminate, and a perfectly good pond that doesn’t need your fucking opinion. [QUACK] Formation’s fixed. Geese are still authorized. Unfortunately. Dismissed.
