No Hard Feelings - Bloodhound Gang

Ain’t my job

To fuck you on your birthday

Ain’t my job

To fuck you on your birthday

Anymore

Ain’t my job

To fuck you on your birthday

Ain’t my job

To fuck you on your birthday

Anymore

Maybe you got screwed, but I dumped you

Cause you ain’t nothin' but trash

I put out despite the, fact that you’re like a

Hawaiian Punch mustache

Right under my nose, thinking I’m so Colonel Klink oblivious

But how could I not see, that you got off scot-free

Cause I know this means it

If I want to be repeatedly shit on

I’ll go make Dutch porn

When roughly translated

Even your naked truth means squat and what’s more

I’m missing you like a hijacked flight on September 11th

I don’t know who got on you but I’m not wrong in thanking them

Since it

Maybe it ain’t your birthday

But then again ya know I wouldn’t give a fuck

When what I shoulda got is over ya sooner so now

I’m just gonna wrap it up

Maybe it ain’t your birthday

But then again ya know I wouldn’t give a fuck

When what I shoulda got is over ya sooner so now

I’m just gonna wrap it up

(Ain't my job)

I’m just gonna wrap it up

(To fuck you on your birthday)

I’m just gonna wrap it up