[INTRO — Pirate ship bells, cannon fire, heavy Tampa bass] Aye, aye, captain! 813, where my pirates at? Raise that flag! Fire them cannons! Wait—who steering this damn ship? (Laughs) Girl, we got a problem! [CHORUS — Bouncy, aggressive jook chant] Fire Todd Bowles, he ain’t takin’ us to no Super Bowl! Make him walk the plank, let the pirate ship roll! Red flag flyin’, but the season lookin’ cold, Got a whole damn treasure chest and can’t find the gold! Fire Todd Bowles, he ain’t takin’ us to no Super Bowl! Arrr, matey, somebody take control! Cannons loaded up, but the offense on hold, We ain’t sailin’ nowhere with a hole in the boat! [VERSE 1 — Emberz, playful Tampa swagger] I’m a Tampa Bay girl, got that pirate in my blood, Raymond James rockin’, whole stadium goin’ nuts. Got a ship in the end zone, got a cannon on deck, But the way we call these plays got me yellin’, “What the heck?” Remember Tom Brady? Man, that boy was the GOAT! Gronk spikin’ touchdowns, had the whole damn boat afloat! Two legends on the field, had the Lombardi in sight, Now I’m sittin’ here wonderin’ who gon’ steer this thing right! Aye, Captain Todd, there’s a storm on the sea, And the fans on the shore got a mutiny! We ain’t askin’ for miracles, just a little control, ‘Cause the ship keep circlin’ and we ain’t near the Bowl! [PRE-CHORUS — Pirate gang vocals] Walk the plank! (HEY!) Walk the plank! (HO!) Somebody tell the captain it’s time to go! Raise the sails! (HEY!) Let it roll! (HO!) We tryna get back to the Super Bowl! [CHORUS] Fire Todd Bowles, he ain’t takin’ us to no Super Bowl! Make him walk the plank, let the pirate ship roll! Red flag flyin’, but the season lookin’ cold, Got a whole damn treasure chest and can’t find the gold! Fire Todd Bowles, he ain’t takin’ us to no Super Bowl! Arrr, matey, somebody take control! Cannons loaded up, but the offense on hold, We ain’t sailin’ nowhere with a hole in the boat! [VERSE 2 — Baker Mayfield appreciation] Now Baker Mayfield? That’s my kinda man! Talk a little shit, back it up when he can! He ain’t sugarcoatin’ nothin’, got a mouth full of spice, If you want it sugarcoated, go somewhere nice! He got that chip on his shoulder, got that fire in his chest, Don’t care who you are, he’ll go toe-to-toe with the best. A little bit cocky? Baby, that’s my type! Talk that talk, Baker, keep the whole ship hyped! Saints come marchin’? Tell ‘em march right back! Falcons try to fly? Clip them wings, that’s that! New Orleans smellin’ like a three-day gumbo, Atlanta keep dreamin’ ’bout a Super Bowl! Twenty-eight to three! (OOOH!) Did I say that loud? Somebody hide me from that Atlanta crowd! [BREAKDOWN — Bass drops, whispering] But hold up… There’s one little team I ain’t mentioned yet. Don’t tell nobody. Especially not my Tampa family. [VERSE 3 — Emberz reveals her secret Panthers crush] See, them Cardiac Cats got me feelin’ some kinda way, I been Carolina curious since the Cam Newton days! Keep it on the low, don’t be tellin’ my fam, Got a little Carolina blue underneath my Tampa Bay tan! And Bryce Young? Ooh, baby, don’t start! Little man, big numbers, got me clutchin’ my heart! Bucs ain’t gotta chance when little Bryce puttin’ up big numbers, Got me dreamin’ Carolina blue in my sleep and in my slumber! They say he kinda short, but I don’t really mind, Might be little on the field, but what else might I find? (EM-BERZ!) What?! I’m just sayin’! Don’t tell my mama what game I’m playin’! When Bryce come to town, got two jerseys on, Red on the outside, Carolina underneath all along! I can be his cheerleader, shake it up for the team, Or get under center—baby, you know what I mean! [AD-LIB — Laughing] Wait, wait, wait! Did I just say that?! Cut the mic! CUT THE MIC! [FINAL CHORUS — Huge bass, pirate chants] Fire Todd Bowles, he ain’t takin’ us to no Super Bowl! Make him walk the plank, let the pirate ship roll! Red flag flyin’, but the season lookin’ cold, Got a whole damn treasure chest and can’t find the gold! Fire Todd Bowles, he ain’t takin’ us to no Super Bowl! Arrr, matey, somebody take control! Cannons loaded up, but the offense on hold, We ain’t sailin’ nowhere with a hole in the boat! [OUTRO — Pirate ship creaking, crowd chants] 813, Tampa Bay! Raise that flag, let them cannons spray! Baker, baby, you know I love ya. Brady, Gronk, we still miss ya. Todd? There’s a plank with your name on it. (Pause) And Bryce? Call me. [Whispered] Keep poundin’. [FINAL SOUND — Cannon blast, bass hit, Emberz laughing]
