Punch in, punch out, another soul on sale, Clock hands cutting like a rusted nail. Boss man smirking from his penthouse shell, While we sweat in the furnace of this corporate hell. They say “work hard,” yeah, I’ve heard that lie — It’s hard to work when you can’t afford to cry. Rent’s a warzone, food’s a fight, And the paycheck’s aimed at your head every night. Hey! You feel that pressure on your spine? Hey! That’s debt—their favorite kind! ’Cause the paycheck is a loaded gun, Aiming down the line at everyone. Pull the trigger with a late-night bill— They don’t want you living, just standing still. Keep your hands up, keep your voice unspun— Yeah, the paycheck is a loaded gun! Scrip and scraps, that’s all we get, But the CEO’s yacht ain’t paid off yet. They gamble our futures in the corporate den, Every cutback feels like a shot again. I’ve seen good folks crushed by a single fee, Seen a mother pick medicine or groceries. They don’t need bullets when the math’s this tight— They kill us slow so they don’t have to fight. Hey! Every payday’s just a trap they sprung! Hey! Loaded chambers, every one! ’Cause the paycheck is a loaded gun, Held against your head till the month is done. Pull the trigger with a broken deal— They don’t want you rising, just trying to heal. Keep your fists up, don’t you come undone— Yeah, the paycheck is a loaded gun! They say “it’s just business.” We say: whose life did you cost today? They say “market forces.” We say: name the price of living this way. You can’t beg a system to treat you as more than fuel. You gotta flip the table. Who’s tired of scraping by? We are! Who’s sick of rent that bleeds you dry? We are! Who’s done being loaded in someone else’s gun? We are! Then stand the hell up — together as one! The paycheck is a loaded gun, But we ain’t running, no — we’re done. Pull the trigger and watch us rise, We see the truth behind their lies. Hold the yard line, let ’em come— We unload their guns, One by one! Up the yards! Up the workers! Load the fight — FIRE BACK!
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