Tytuł: Prodigal Son

• Wykonawca: Kid Rock
• Wyświetleń: 266

Cuz growin up I was never the logical one
  packed my shit and left home like the prodigal son
  with a bottle of jack and my shotgun strapped
  I went looking for fame and yo I've never been back
  filled with spite staying high as a kite
  I was dealin and stealin everything in sight
  pool hustling trying to make that green
  I've been ramblin and gamblin since the age of 13
  working like a bitch like a god damn tank
  some disagree because me rents had bank
  but all that's gold non't always glitter
  so I'll take another puff from my one hitter
  I'm a slave tot he trade I'm paid to rhyme
  blow all my cash on cheap women and wine
  cause money, money, money ain't shit to me
  but I gotta make a lot just to be free
  Please God Please I'll pay any cost
  If you'd just stop the world cause I wanna get off
  there's too much hardship there's too much pain
  there's too many motherfuckers tryin to get in my brain
  I've been to your mountains I've been to your seaside
  and everywhere I went somebody's wanted a free ride
  but parasites can't fake the Rock
  and any suckers that step in my way are getting shot
  cause I hold key to my own success
  and suckers that step shall be put to rest
  yes, I hold the key to my own success
  and suckers that step will catch a bullet in their chest,
  so pass the buddha the funky tie hooter
  and watch me rip because I'm such a slick shooter.
  not a generic dime a dozen M.C.
  never was in a posse never wanted to be
  now I've neen walkin the earth since the beginning of ti
  and won't leave till I've received that 7th sign
  all this talk their gonna drop the bomb,
  but life keeps going on and on and on and on
  the world's end don't worry me
  and I'm gonna get where I'm going just hurry me
  cause I'm in no rush and I can't stand rushin
  everything is slow motion like I'm trippin on tussin
  fussin with the girls they waste my time
  thrashin and bashin going out of my mind
  crucified by the critics everyday
  cause I ain't really got that much to say
  I'm a slave to the trade I'm paid to rhyme
  I don't wear a watch and i don't keep time
  I live my life just like the skipper
  but only at night because I'm a day tripper
  twitchin-shakin like corky shootin smack
  but still life goes on
  visions of red shoot through my head
  and I won't stop trippin till the day I'm dead.