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 Cos 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