It Ain’t My Job To Tote Your Monkey

So the government’s crazy and the weather’s all wrong
The radio ain’t playing country songs
Grits won’t cook in the microwave
And you’re made about the price of gas these days

You can’t get a signal on your mobile phone
Your dog ran off and your wife cam home
It all boils down to just one fact
There’s a great big monkey hanging on your back

But it ain’t my job (it ain’t my job)
It ain’t my job (it ain’t my job)
Don’t break me down ‘cause you feel funky
It ain’t my job to tote your monkey

Well it seems every morning about this time
You come in here and start to whine
It’s the coffee, it’s the car, it’s the Coke machine
Ain’t you ever happy ‘bout anything?

But it ain’t my job (it ain’t my job)
It ain’t my job (it ain’t my job)
Don’t break me down ‘cause you feel grumpy
It ain’t my job to tote your monkey

So take your circus and leave this town
Ain’t got time to monkey around
Go tell Dr. Phil what you think
I ain’t your daddy and I ain’t your shrink

But it ain’t my job (it ain’t my job)
It ain’t my job (it ain’t my job)
Don’t break me down ‘cause you feel grumpy
It ain’t my job to tote your monkey

Your toast was burned and your eggs were runny
Last night Letterman wasn’t that funny
You smoked all your drinkin’ money
But it ain’t my job to tote your monkey

Hey boy I’m sorry if all this talk has upset your tummy
But it ain’t my job to tote your cotton pickin’ monkey
Naw…naw…naw…naw