FERDA CULTURE
[Intro]
Yeah
If you gotta ask what “ferda” means—
You probably ain’t ferda.
Tape wax on the blade,
Coffee in the room,
Somebody cracked the salts—
Now the whole bench zoomed.
[Verse 1]
Walk in, bag smell like something died in it,
Same shoulder pads since Bantam, still pride in it.
Fresh TJ, white tape, knob looking proper,
One bad tape job? Boys calling you a soccer player.
Wax on the laces, tongues out, sty sty,
Bucket sitting tilted, visor way too high.
Cage got bent but I’m still gonna wear it,
Missing three screws? Yeah, equipment guy’ll repair it.
First one dressed, still last on the ice,
Tendy taking clappers saying, “Boys, that’s nice.”
Post gets thanked when the glove gets beat,
Then he taps both pipes like they did something sweet.
Sauce through traffic, apple on the sheet,
Backdoor tap-in, celly on repeat.
You call it an assist, we call it feeding the pigeon,
Guy scores once, now he thinks he’s McDavid.
[Hook]
FERDA—
Tape it, wax it, cut it, lace it.
FERDA—
Miss the net? Boys gonna say it.
FERDA—
Two-minute shift? Better change it.
FERDA—
Culture, bud. Can’t fake it.
No bucket in warmies? Beauty.
Muffin from the point? Dusty.
Grocery stick riding shotgun,
Still yelling “WHEELS!” like he’s got some.
FERDA.
That’s culture.
[Verse 2]
“Time!” from the bench when there’s nobody near ya,
“Wheel! Wheel! Wheel!” when the forecheck can hear ya.
“Reverse!” three seconds after you moved it,
Coach drawing on the board like anybody knew it.
D-to-D, rim it, chip off glass,
Fourth-line hero trying toe-drags last man.
Turnover—bench gets quiet real quick,
Coach got that stare like, “Try that again, kid.”
Dump and chase? Boys call that employment.
Blocked shot? That’s voluntary unemployment.
Eat one off the ankle, limp to the bench,
Trainer says “How bad?”
“Not bad.”
It’s bent.
Get stitched in the room, come back for the third,
Tell the boys “I’m good” without saying a word.
Half shield fogged, blood dried on the sweater,
Hockey players somehow think that makes it better.
[Bridge]
And everybody knows one guy—
Never washes his gear.
Always asks for clear.
Cuts every line in drills,
But somehow disappears
When coach says—
“BAG SKATE.”
808s hit.
[Verse 3]
Goalie’s a different species, don’t question the tendy,
Talking to his posts like the posts are friendly.
Lets in five-hole—blames D-screen traffic,
Makes one windmill save—now the kid’s cinematic.
D-man yelling “HEADS!” after sending a grenade,
Hospital pass, then skates the other way.
Buddy gets smoked, bench goes “OOOOHHHH,”
Then the same whole bench:
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
Chel till two, rink at seven,
Gas-station breakfast like hockey-player heaven.
BioSteel bottle got somebody else’s name,
Nobody knows whose—but we drink it just the same.
Tape scissors missing? Check the goalie stall.
Someone stole my wax? Better check ’em all.
Last roll of white tape? Guard that with your life.
Black tape on the knob?
We might have to fight.
[Hook]
FERDA—
Tape it, wax it, cut it, lace it.
FERDA—
Miss the net? Boys gonna say it.
FERDA—
Two-minute shift? Better change it.
FERDA—
Culture, bud. Can’t fake it.
Pigeon at the backdoor—feed him.
Duster talking crazy—seat him.
Sewer pass? You better eat it.
Empty net? Somehow still miss it.
FERDA.
That’s culture.
[Verse 4 – Fast Flow]
Shins over tongues, tongues over shins,
Don’t care how you do it, just don’t bring it up again.
Left skate first? Same thing every game,
Superstitions get weird when you’re riding a heater, man.
Don’t touch the conference trophy, don’t say shutout,
Don’t mention the tendy’s got one—what are you talking about?
Hatty with the empty net? Still counts three,
Somebody grab that puck, that’s going on IG.
Warm-up lap, one guy firing top cheese,
Tendy yelling “NOT THE HEAD!”
Buddy says “My bad, G.”
Coach says short shifts—
First line hears ninety.
Fourth line gets twenty,
Still chirping like Gretzky.
Healthy scratch in a suit eating popcorn upstairs,
Next day first guy at practice like he wasn’t even there.
That’s hockey—
No speeches, no pity.
Just sharpen ’em again and get back with the committee.
[Outro]
Ferda guy beside you.
Ferda tendy losing his mind.
Ferda D-man eating rubber.
Ferda pigeon backdoor every time.
For the tape rolls.
For the wet gloves.
For the bus legs.
For the bad cuts.
For the salts.
For the chirps.
For the room.
You don’t explain hockey culture.
You just know.
FERDA.
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