Tytuł: The Prodigal Son Returns

• Wykonawca: Kid Rock
• Wyświetleń: 287

P-P-P pass the boota, pass the boota
  Cause i wanna get, P-P-P pass the boota
  P-P-P pass the boota, cause i wanna get off
  All the fuckers 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 fuckin 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 motherfucker 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 fuckin crook
  Your playin dummy with your pride
  And you cant tell me shit about a funny vibe
  And all that jive your preachin, it's borin
  God saved my soul, you save the fuckin 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 grass 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, pass 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
  Suck 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