Don’t wanna chill, don’t wanna sit

Don’t wanna hear no hippy sht

Don’t tell me I’m losing my mind

Don’t wanna groove don’t wanna dig

Don’t wanna spend the day naked

Don’t like my music country fried

Chorus 1:

He’s got a tye dyed Rancid shirt

Wears his Birkenstocks to work

C G (once)
Is he a jerk? No just confused

(rest)
Jeff don’t wear regular shoes

Verse 2:

Fat Mike I gotta let you know

It’s not the tunes, it’s their live shows

And all the people you get to meet

Plenty of good vibes and decent drugs

Stinky people give you hugs

Walk around in your bare feet

Chorus 2:

He’s got a tye dyed Rancid shirt

Wears his Birkenstocks to work

C G (once)
Is he a jerk? No just confused

(rest) D C B C
Jeff don’t wear regular shooooooooooes

D C B C D C B C D C (hold)
shoooooooooes shoooooooooes shooooooooooes
Outro:

Jeff don’t wear regular shoes

Dresser drawers are filled with pocket change
Coupons cut, cigarettes smoked to the butt, Is this what dreams are made!
Adding up subtracting down you find yourself sucking the rut

(Chorus)

Dying degree, graying amie
Final payment made – had you forgot?
The rightful owner of one deluxe cemetary plot
Paisley satin lined how apprapoe What a better way to go

(Chorus)

Dying degree, graying amie
No more eating crumbs
When my pension finally comes
You kids want eat much anymore ‘round me

(Outro)

Dying degree, graying amie
Dying….