Written by Markane
To the Tune of Maggie's Farm, by the Bob Dylan
I ain't gonna work for Giygas no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Giygas no more.
Well, I battle in the morning,
Use my rays and PSI.
I got a head full of ideas
That irritate the guys.
It's a shame the way I fight the poor.
I ain't gonna work for Giygas no more.
I ain't gonna work for Carpainter no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Carpainter no more.
Well, he hands you a paint can,
He hands you a brush,
He asks you with a grin
If you're havin' a good time,
Then he shocks you every time you open the door.
I ain't gonna work for Carpainter no more.
I ain't gonna work for Master Belch no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Master Belch no more.
Well, he puts his fly honey
Out in your face just for kicks.
His secret base
It is silver bricks.
Mr.Saturns stand around his door.
Ah, I ain't gonna work for Master Belch no more.
I ain't gonna work for Montoli no more.
No, I ain't gonna work for Montoli no more.
Well, he pays public servants
To bend and break the law.
Everybody says
Mani-Mani's behind it all.
He's a mayor, but Pokey's the top boar.
I ain't gonna work for Montoli no more.
I ain't gonna work for Giygas no more.
No, I ain't gonna for Giygas no more.
Well, I try my best
To be the thug I am,
But everybody wants you
To be bosses just like them.
They gloat while you fight and I just get KOed.
I ain't gonna work for Giygas no more.