P-P-P pa** the boota, pa** the boota
Cause i wanna get, P-P-P pa** the boota
P-P-P pa** the boota, cause i wanna get off
All the f**ers that are tryin to dis the Kid Rock
You can get shot, but first i'm gonna get hot
When it comes to rhyms i got a new Caddy
Cause you got about as much flavor as a f**in rice patty
Babe, ahh don't quit your day job
It lights the way ahh
But on the mic i'm God
And workin hard for your moneys what i x'ed hoe
Cause i wont sell my soul for some wax dipped in cheap gold
Par 4 motherf**er whatcha gonna do
1 wood 7 iron and i'm on the green at 2
With 1 putt i lyin a birdy in the hole
I drive the show putt for dough
So give it up hoe
I get a lot of funny looks
I aint stealin your music, my man
I aint to f**in crook
Your playin dummy with your pride
And you cant tell me sh** about a funny vibe
And all that jive your preachin, it's borin
God saved my soul, you save the f**in rain forest
And i'll meet you in hell
The prodigal son Kid Rock i rock well
(only time will tell)
Well it's been coast from the midway
Smokin gra** and sniffin lines
And at first glance you wouldnt guess no
I even make my own homemade wine
Moonshine, Red wine, stir it up, drink it up
Roll it up, light it up, toke down, pa** around
Cut it up, light it up, sniff it up, rock it up
Gimme a pipe and i just might smoke it
Object it, sellect it, clean it, protect it
s** it in, tie it up, stick it and inject it
All night, that's right, pop it drop it
Set it on your tongue and then trip til you peak