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