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   When it comes to rhyms i got a new Caddy   You can get shot, but first i'm gonna get hot   Cause you got about as much flavor as a fuckin rice patty   It lights the way ahh   Babe, ahh dont quit your day job   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   So give it up hoe   I drive the show putt for dough   I get a lot of funny looks   I aint to fuckin crook   I aint stealin your music, my man   Your playin dummy with your pride   And all that jive your preachin, it's borin   And you cant tell me shit about a funny vibe   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   And at first glance you wouldnt guess no   I even make my own homemade wine   Smokin grass and sniffin lines   Moonshine, Red wine, stir it up, drink it up   Cut it up, light it up, sniff it up, rock it up   Roll it up, light it up, toke down, pass around   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