Grease & Grit Rebellion

Lyrics

Pay the Fucking Mechanic [Intro] Yeah… This one's for the guy with grease under his nails, Diesel in his veins, And a toolbox that's seen more shit Than upper management ever will. [Verse 1] He's up before the sun comes up, Coffee black, boots on tight, Another fucking machine is dead, So he's gonna make that mother run right. Hydraulics leaking, engine knocking, Electrical gremlins hiding in the wire, Everybody's standing around saying, “Damn, that's gonna cost us a fortune.” He just grabs his tools and says, “Move the fuck over.” Twenty minutes later, That big iron comes alive, And everybody suddenly remembers Why the damn thing can still survive. [Chorus] Pay the fucking mechanic! Give the man what he's worth! He's keeping all your million-dollar iron From becoming scrap in the dirt. But every time he asks for a raise, Management says, “We'll see.” Well, you can take that “we'll see” And shove it up your corporate ass for free! He's fixing your shit, He's keeping you running, While some desk jockey's sitting there Pretending he knows something. PAY THE FUCKING MECHANIC! That's all we're asking for! Because without that greasy son of a bitch, Your fleet ain't moving anymore! [Verse 2] Upper management walks in With a clipboard and a frown, Never turned a wrench in his life But somehow knows how to shut shit down. “Why did this repair take so long?” “Why does this part cost so much?” He says, “Because machines break, motherfucker— That's kind of how this works.” Never changed a hydraulic hose, Never chased an electrical short, Never laid underneath a loader With diesel dripping down his shirt. But he's got an opinion. Oh, he's got plenty of those. [Chorus] Pay the fucking mechanic! Give the man his damn raise! He's the reason your equipment Is working through the day. You can buy another excavator, You can buy another truck, But if nobody knows how to fix that shit, You're completely fucking stuck. He's fixing your shit, He's keeping you running, While upper management's sitting there Wondering what the hell you're doing. [Bridge] And then there's Greg… Oh, fucking Greg. Greg's an AI armchair quarterback, Full of answers, short on grease, Never touched the machine himself But somehow knows exactly what needs to be. “Have you tried—” SHUT THE FUCK UP, GREG! YouTube University ain't the same As twenty years underneath the hood. You don't fix heavy equipment By typing shit that “sounds pretty good.” [Breakdown] Mechanic: “The pump is fucked.” Management: “Are you sure?” Mechanic: “Yep.” Management: “Can we get a second opinion?” Mechanic: “Sure. Ask Greg.” Greg: “According to my research…” OH GODDAMMIT, GREG! [Verse 3] He fixes loaders, dozers, trucks, Excavators by the ton, When everybody else is scratching their heads, He's the motherfucker getting it done. He knows the sound a bearing makes Before it completely dies, He can hear a hydraulic problem Just by watching how it rises. He's got scars on both his hands, Grease permanently in his skin, And every time they need a miracle, Guess who they fucking call again? [Final Chorus] Pay the fucking mechanic! Quit pretending he's replaceable! You'd spend ten thousand dollars Just to keep one machine operational! Then he'll ask for a damn raise And suddenly there's no money around. Funny how that works. He's fixing your shit, He's keeping you running, He's doing the job While the suits keep fucking talking. PAY THE FUCKING MECHANIC! Give the man his due! Because when the whole damn fleet breaks down, Guess who they're gonna run to? Not Greg. [Outro] So here's to the mechanics, The ones nobody sees, The ones keeping heavy iron moving On busted knuckles and caffeine. You can ignore him. You can deny him. You can shut down every raise. But sooner or later, That machine's gonna break… And everybody's gonna stand around looking stupid… Until the mechanic walks over, Wipes his hands, And says: “Move the fuck over. I got this.”