[Spoken Intro] Look at this guy at the home improvement store. A Millenial Blob. Red flannel on, but he's never swung an axe in his life. Brogan shoes looking fresh out the box. Can’t even change a flat tire, but he’s got opinions on "artisanal beans." Hey kid... your beard is full of soy, and your hands are softer than a bag of cotton balls. [Rap Verse 1] Yeah, thirty-four years old but you look a sick sixty five. Living in your skinny jeans, barely alive. Pudgy in the middle, looking soft as a plum, Blowing clouds of vape juice till your senses go numb. Got that unkempt beard looking like a bird's nest, While the real working men are out out-performing the best. You're a Brogan shoe hipster with a degree in art, Can’t jump start a Chevy, don't know where to start! Half of my crew served, did time in the sand, You get a micro aggression from the local coffee brand. You talk about your "journey" and your "mental health day," While we’re pushing through the overtime to get the bills paid. Tough? No. Scrappy? Please. You get a head cold and you're dropping to your knees. Hair on your chest? Man, you shave it all off, Then you sip a hard cider with a delicate cough! [Sung Chorus] Oh, the soft hands are shaking when the real work calls! You're crying in the mirror in your overalls! No muscle, no hustle, just a whole lot of pride, In a craft-beer bottle where your manhood died! Yeah, we’re Gen X hard and we’re still in shape, While you’re nursing a latte and a blueberry vape! [Rap Verse 2] Now you're riding a scooter down the city street, With a digital watch tracking steps on your feet. Got a custom mustache wax, imported from France, But you're wearing elastic in the waist of your pants. Can't back up a trailer, can't handle a tool, But you're lecturing me like you're running the school. You say you're an "influencer," managing a brand, But you've never felt the dirt or the gravel in your hand. Out of breath on the stairs, out of shape in the gym, Every single prospect looking heavy and grim. We were raised on the blacktop, iron in our spine, You're a sensitive soul crying out in the line! [Rap Bridge] Yeah, look at the contrast, look at the facts, You're a corporate creation that completely lacks. No grit, no fire, no old-school fight, Just a permanent offense in the middle of the night. We're veterans, truckers, and blue-collar steel, Living out a life that is rugged and real. You're a walking caricature, soft and unspun, Melting like an ice cube under the sun! [Sung Chorus] Oh, the soft hands are shaking when the real work calls! You're crying in the mirror in your overalls! No muscle, no hustle, just a whole lot of pride, In a craft-beer bottle where your manhood died! Yeah, we’re the Gen X crew and we’re still in shape, While you’re nursing a latte and a blueberry vape! [Spoken Outro] "Brogan shoes"... man, back in my day, we wore boots for the job and we actually worked in 'em. Go on home, Millennial Boy. Son, Go play your video games. Leave the heavy lifting to the grown-ups. Generation X, The real men.
