Quit Your Job

My B.O. double S ain't

Nothing but a S.O.B

He ain't nothing but a S.O.B

Fuck a J.O.B

Till I'm R.I.P

Hey yo

You make me want to quit my job, but I can't

So instead I wrote this song about you

So when you hear it I hope, you understand

The whole world now knows you're a fool

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

Yo I couldn't give a toss, about my shitty job

Wrote a letter to my boss "Man you really are a slob"

Definition of a dog, wishing I was gone

Kicking back with a six-pack, sitting on the lawn

But I'm not, 'stead I'm here feeling overtired

Cause I don't get no shine for my overtime

I got no desire to be busting for the loop

You're lucky I don't hustle for industrial dispute

For now I'm in the backroom, puffing on a doob

While you're bludging in your office, scuffing muffins by computs

Thinking who the fuck are you, to tell me what to do

I want to say it to your face but I'm afraid I'll get the boot

You're annoying as they come, and I don't give a fuck

If the toilet needs a scrub, I ain't employee of the month

Sucker, fuck a job, I might throw in the towel

Middle finger to my boss till he's throwing me out

You make me want to quit my job, but I can't

So instead I wrote this song about you

So when you hear it I hope, you understand

The whole world now knows you're a fool

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

My B.O. double S ain't

Nothing but a S.O.B

He ain't nothing but a S.O.B

Fuck a J.O.B

Till I'm R.I.P

Hey yo

Picture me, as a little pipsqueak

With a one-way ticket to Sydney

Equipped with a CV

Pristine, super fly, with a suit and tie

Try'na be a big shot

Score a slick job, in the big smoke

Gets locked in to a shit box office

Making money for the rich folk

Feeling pretty ripped off

Was only ever meant to be a pit-stop

Now spend my days with you

Hey yo, I ain't no saint myself

You sir, got a long ways to go

Go to hell, make that place your home to dwell

By the way you smell like

Ashtrays and Listerine

You act strange like Mr. Bean

And, probably gonna miss the point

It's a damn shame

You're the reason I dis this joint

You make me want to quit my job, but I can't

So instead I wrote this song about you

So when you hear it I hope, you understand

The whole world now knows you're a fool

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

You gotta go, I gotta go

Go, go, still you gotta go

Fuck a J.O.B, till I'm R.I.P

Hey yo

Go, go, Go, go