A bottle of jack's got my manager grinnin' yeah that's me that keeps the turntables spinniN' I'm countin cards and I keep on winnin' I know God hates me cuz I'm always sinnin' U don't know me blow me ho you wanna get hot you'll get your a** blown out f**in with the Kid Rock Eatin up ya s**ers just the same way a beast could tearin thru your town like muther f**in Clint Eastwood Cuz I be fakin the rhymes that keep ya shakin' makin a lotta money but don't let me be mistaken I never thought about climbin up the pop chart and I don't give a f** u can't buy my tape in K-Mart Give me a choice between soundin like an a** wipe or sittin in an alley smokin crack from a gla** pipe I'd be as skinny as a junkie with the AIDS plague but still I'd look better than a puppet tryin to get paid Now check the rhyme as i climb and I co get rude and send ya runnin' playin' p**y like Shaggy and Scoob Cuz I'm the wrong dude to f** with my mouth is mental and I'm a tear sh** up like they did in South Central Son of a b**h I'm the son of a b**h nobody ever loved u so you're the son of a dick I'm a product of a young girl top in her cla** you're a product of a hooker who was sellin that a** And your styles in the past it's old and dusty so from now on I'm callin u M.C. Crusty Cuz to face me u must be blitzed or blasted so now I'm gonna drop ya like a hit of acid And when I rip ya people they might stare cuz I got more rhymes than Donahue's got white hair An yo buck won't you please be a friend And tell your mom I wanna f** and I'll pick her up at 10