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NOFX
NOFX


Background information
Origin Los Angeles, Southern California, United States
Genre(s) Punk Rock
Ska punk
Melodic Hardcore
Hardcore Punk
Years active 1983—present
Label(s) Fat Wreck Chords
Epitaph Records
Website Website
Members
Fat Mike
El Hefe
Eric Melvin
Erik Sandin
Former members
Dave Allen
Scott Sellers
Scott Aldahl
Dave Casillas
Steve Kidwiller



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  N  →  NOFX  →  Albums  →  Surfer

NOFX Album


Surfer (2001)
2001
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. . .


Fun Things to Fuck!

Fuck the front door, Fuck the back
Fuck the good girls with the knack
Fuck the government until they fuck you back
Fuck a Muslim Fuck a Jew
Fuck fans of Blink 182
That's illegal if you're born in '83, yeah, yeah, yeah

Fuck a bean cheese burrito
Fuck a bowl of cookie dough
Fuck the space between the big and neighbor toe
Fuck a cop fuck a marine
Fuck a jar of Vaseline
Fuck a calzone with pepperoni

Fuck a midget, fuck a dwarf
Fuck Kris Kringle with an elf
But before you fuck it all
Go Fuck Yourself!

. . .


juice head. juice head. juice head. juice head. juice head. juice head.

. . .


All we need
A little methamphetamine
Three on speed
A little subversality
What we do
It's nothing you need to know about
Who you are
Definitely not one of us

All we need is a little pick me up
I don't really care if it's clean or if it's cut
So give it to me now or your gonna bring us down, yeah hey

Give me some speed, yeah!

Who are them
They don't know shit about us
Different strokes
Because we wanna live our
Lives faster
Gonna burn the candle down on
All three ends
Live fast, die fun!

All we need is a little pick me up
I don't really care if it's clean or if it's cut
So give it to me now or your gonna bring us down, yeah hey

. . .


Happy birthday, you're not special
You're gettin older but not much better
We all want to embarass you
That's why we're signing this song
So happy fucking birthday, you're not special

. . .


1, 2, 3, 4. talking 'bout your mom... talking 'bout your mom... talking 'bout your mom... talking 'bout your mom... she's a whore bitch, gutter slut. likes to shove me up her butt. drives a pickle, wearing combat boots. while farting, she'll pick me up and give me a ride and drop me in front of the show. oh no, talking 'bout your mom... talking 'bout your mom... talking 'bout your mom... talking 'bout your mom...

. . .


Hanging out in long beach
A little party in the sun
But ya just can't sit there smoking and a drinkin anymore

You got a new jive
All your friends are gettin weird ( ahhhh )

It goes you
Aint a shakin till the shit shot shoot it up
No one jammin till the gin juice jigger gets
They say it aint a party till the party enema
The party enema

You get your funnel tube
Pour in a 40 ounce
Pull down your clothes touch your toes get a hose hold of yer nose
Its a party-a

Forget the beer bong
Forget the nitrous shots

It goes you
Aint a shakin till the shit shot shoot it up
No one jammin till the gin juice jigger gets
They say it aint a party till the party enema
The party enema

The party enema
The party enema

The party enema
The party enema

. . .


what i scream about, can't get the stink out. catch it on my tongue, save it in my lung. fucking vegans smoking, keep us all choking. big round of applause for california laws. act like human beings instead of europeans. i was a singer/dancer, now i got lung cancer (ahhhhhh). can't get the stink out. can't get the stink out. can't get the stink out. can't get the stink out.

. . .


I'm overhung, overslept.
I'm ripe, desheveld,
perfectly unkempt.
I like my drink
mit toast and eggs.
the best bloody mary you've ever tasted.

Go to work wasted. go to work bombed.
Ya gotta pull a shot
Before you start the job.
I wanna operate
Heavy machinery.
I wanna watch online pornography.

You gotta go to work high
If you're getting paid low.
You gotta put your nose
to the grindstone, stoned.
That elbow grease
will get you fucked.
you don't wanna be a jerk or smuck.
fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

. . .


fuck da kids
fuck da kids
fuck da kids
fuck yeah yeah
fuck da kids
fuck da kids
fuck da kids
fuck yeah yeah
fuck da kids
fuck da kids
fuck da kids
fuck yeah yeah
fuck da kids
fuck da kids
fuck da kids
fuck the kids fuck the kids fuck the kids!


. . .


We never like to say whoa
We love whoas
We're against whoas
We hate whoas

We prefer ahhhhhs and
nananananas and yayayas are alright

Between A.F.I. and the Offspring
I don't think we need any one else
To sing any more whoas

We hate whoas
Were against whoas
We hate whoas......


. . .


happy days are here again. i'm three shits to the wind. its so nice to wet the bed and not care. turning matter into mush. i'm three shits to the wind. what's another million cells to my head? mornings broken, so is my nose. i'm three shits to the wind. how did i get into my neighbor's bedroom? why does my tongue taste like doc. i'm three shits to the wind. i think i'll try something stronger next time.

. . .


Look at me now
Full on the run
I can’t stop myself from crashing

Breaking glass
Wreaking their yard
Burning stuff that isn’t broken

Pulling out all the stops
I’m gonna puke on the cops
Tell the kids what rocks
I’m gonna puke on cops

Give me my sign to hold high
Have a glass of our resistance
And I died disobedient
But at least I lived to riot

Pulling out all the stops
I’m gonna puke on the cops
Tell the kids what rocks
I’m gonna puke on cops

(BLEH!)

. . .


1, 2, 1, 2, 3. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. my blatter works! i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta pee. call 911 i gotta pee. i gotta pee. i gotta poop.

. . .


TOTALLY FUCKED

We were drinking with plouck,
He drank a fifth of grappa?
He told me that he loved me,
And then he kicked me in the chest.
Reap upon with David,
Lies sitting on heartache
The chances of us winning are about 1 in 16,
He talked about the old days,
Allegiance that are many,
Across from us guys are sitting
From g'd up motherfuckers.
And how, it was, TOTALLY FUCKED!
We were drinking at the front end,
With 2000 dirty squatters,
We didn't want to fight them,
So instead they beat each other up.
Squatters don't have money,
But at least they don't have showers,
So when they're drinking their own piss,
We didn't think much of it.
The moral of this story,
Don't use your better judgment,
Cause what good is an evening,
If you can't even remember.
Just how, it was, TOTALLY FUCKED!

. . .


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