| Lyrics: | 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 dont 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 |
