No Hard Feelings

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