The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
I got a job making money for the man
Throwing chicken in the bucket with the soda pop can
Puke-green uniform on my back
I had to set it on fire in a vat of chicken fat
I leaped on the counter like a bird with no hair
Running through the mini mall in my underwear
I got lost downtown, couldn't find a ride home
Sun went down, I got frozen to the bone
'Til a hooker let me share her fake fur coat
As I took a little nap, the cops picked up us both
I tried to explain, I was only trying to get warm
I knew I never ever should have burnt my uniform
He said, "Too bad, better bite the bullet hard, son"
I didn't have no teeth so I stole his gun
And I crawled out the window with my shadow on a spoon
Dancing on the roof, shootin' holes in the moon
Get busy
Get busy
You know it
I ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
I ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
Standing right here with a beer in my hand
And my mouth is full of sand and I don't understand
Fourteen days I been sleeping in a barn
Better get a paycheck tattooed on my arm
Whistling Dixie with the Dixie cup filled
With the barbecue sauce and the dental floss chill
Big fat fingers pointing into my face
Telling me to get busy cleaning up this place
I got bent like a wet cigarette
And she's coming after me with a butterfly net
Riding on a bloodhound ringing the bell
Black cat wrapped in a road map of hell
Pencil on my leg and I'm trying not to beg
Taking turns baking worms with the bacon and eggs
Now they got me in a birdcage flapping my jaw
Like a pretzel in the stars just waiting to fall
So give me what I got to get so I can go
'Cause I ain't washing dishes in the ditch no more
I ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
I ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
No, no, no, no, no
Soul sucking jerk
Soul sucking jerk
You soul sucking jerk
Soul sucking jerk
Ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
No
Ain't gonna work
For no soul suckin' jerk
I ain't gonna work
For no soul suckin' jerk
I ain't gonna work
Throwing chicken in the bucket with the soda pop can
Puke-green uniform on my back
I had to set it on fire in a vat of chicken fat
I leaped on the counter like a bird with no hair
Running through the mini mall in my underwear
I got lost downtown, couldn't find a ride home
Sun went down, I got frozen to the bone
'Til a hooker let me share her fake fur coat
As I took a little nap, the cops picked up us both
I tried to explain, I was only trying to get warm
I knew I never ever should have burnt my uniform
He said, "Too bad, better bite the bullet hard, son"
I didn't have no teeth so I stole his gun
And I crawled out the window with my shadow on a spoon
Dancing on the roof, shootin' holes in the moon
Get busy
Get busy
You know it
I ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
I ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
Standing right here with a beer in my hand
And my mouth is full of sand and I don't understand
Fourteen days I been sleeping in a barn
Better get a paycheck tattooed on my arm
Whistling Dixie with the Dixie cup filled
With the barbecue sauce and the dental floss chill
Big fat fingers pointing into my face
Telling me to get busy cleaning up this place
I got bent like a wet cigarette
And she's coming after me with a butterfly net
Riding on a bloodhound ringing the bell
Black cat wrapped in a road map of hell
Pencil on my leg and I'm trying not to beg
Taking turns baking worms with the bacon and eggs
Now they got me in a birdcage flapping my jaw
Like a pretzel in the stars just waiting to fall
So give me what I got to get so I can go
'Cause I ain't washing dishes in the ditch no more
I ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
I ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
No, no, no, no, no
Soul sucking jerk
Soul sucking jerk
You soul sucking jerk
Soul sucking jerk
Ain't gonna work for no soul sucking jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't saying jack
No
Ain't gonna work
For no soul suckin' jerk
I ain't gonna work
For no soul suckin' jerk
I ain't gonna work
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This is a Beck classic. All about punching clock for the man just to get by. Seems like alot of beck's early stuff is like that. The whole mellow gold album especially. It just conjures up images of minimum wage jobs, living in run-down apartments, drinking your life away. I like to listen to this stuff when life sucks.