Lyrics

Tim just passed what a cocky prick,
Struts around like his balls are thick.
Uniform’s tight like it’s painted on,
Thinks he’s Top Gun, but he’s just a pawn.

Sjors drags in, dumb face and all,
Moves like a snail on a bathroom stall.
John de Bever’s long-lost twin,
Barely awake, but still locked in.

It’s callsign day no mercy, no grace,
Time to earn your fuckin’ place.
One’s a diva, the other’s a ghost,
Let’s see who chokes and who can boast.
Tim and Sjors, no more games,
Today you earn your goddamn names.

Tim screams loud like he owns the base,
But trips on cords and falls on his face.
"Captain Tightass," they laugh and jeer,
The guy’s all ego and daddy’s beer.

Sjors might lag, but he don’t quit,
Still shows up when the fan takes shit.
Brain on pause but soul on fire,
That slow-ass grin hides razor wire.

Who the fuck are you without a tag?
Just a rookie with a saggy flag.
Bleed, crawl, puke don’t care how,
You want that name? You earn it now.

It’s callsign day get in line,
No one leaves without a sign.
One’s a blowhard, one’s a snail,
Both could rise or epically fail.
Tim and Sjors, this is the game:
Bleed for pride or die in shame.

So gear the fuck up, and drop that grin,
Today we find what’s under the skin.
Tim and Sjors cocky and slow,
Let’s see which one steals the show.