Work's a battlefield

Work¡¯s a battlefield

´ÊÇú³ª£ºNomi vic

Clock in, head down, try to stay low,

But these snitching coworkers, man, they always know.

Every word I say, every move I make,

They¡¯re running to the boss, for their own sake.

Work¡¯s a battlefield, with spies all around,

Can¡¯t trust a soul, they¡¯ll bring you down.

Same old story, every single day,

These backstabbing games, make me wanna stray.

Yo, she¡¯s at it again, running to the boss,

Spinning little stories, trying to make me lost.

Always got her eyes on me, watching every move,

Like she¡¯s got nothing better, nothing else to prove.

It¡¯s a dirty game, and she¡¯s playing it well,

But this vibe she¡¯s bringing, man, it feels like hell.

She¡¯s a pro at this, with her fake little smile,

But deep down, we all know she¡¯s vile.

I¡¯m just trying to work, minding my own,

But these whispers and lies, have a life of their own.

The boss takes her word, every single time,

Leaving me in the dust, like I¡¯m part of the grime.

It¡¯s a cold, cold world in this office space,

Where loyalty¡¯s a joke, and trust¡¯s out of place.

The atmosphere¡¯s dead, like the spark is gone,

No passion, no drive, just dragging on.

Everyday¡¯s the same, a lifeless gray,

And those snitches keep thriving, what can I say?

Work¡¯s a battlefield, with spies all around,

Can¡¯t trust a soul, they¡¯ll bring you down.

Same old story, every single day,

These backstabbing games, make me wanna stray.

Yo, the energy¡¯s low, the vibe¡¯s so dead,

All thanks to those rats, filling our heads.

No one¡¯s inspired, no one wants to try,

¡®Cause these backstabbing moves make us wanna cry.

I keep my distance, try to stay clean,

But they twist my words, making me seem mean.

They¡¯re feeding off drama, creating the mess,

While the rest of us suffer, feeling the stress.

It¡¯s a toxic world, in this 9 to 5,

Where the snitches survive, and the honest don¡¯t thrive.

They think they¡¯re winning, playing their game,

But deep down, they¡¯ve lost, living in shame.

I¡¯m done with this, can¡¯t take it no more,

But leaving this job feels like a chore.

I¡¯m counting the days, till I can break free,

From this snitching circus, it¡¯s draining me.

But till that day comes, I¡¯ll keep my cool,

Even though this place makes me feel like a fool.

Work¡¯s a battlefield, with spies all around,

Can¡¯t trust a soul, they¡¯ll bring you down.

Same old story, every single day,

These backstabbing games, make me wanna stray.

So here I stand, in this lifeless space,

Watching my back, in this endless race.

But one day soon, I¡¯ll walk away,

From these petty games, I won¡¯t stay.