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