And while your out gang bangin
tring to catch a murder case
your hoes on my couch gettin fucked in the face
bumpin to the base of some old school rap jam
(say what)
this aint tennis, but yo i'll use my backhand
on any grown man that tries to check rock
i wanna head bang, i gotta hip hop.
cause i'ma stick with what got me paid
lickin that coochie with the high top fade
i'm self made like henry ford
i'm on this mic. but it feels like i been here before.
i want more than the next man
respect, plus to cash big checks
and mack on hoes like ruddy ray
cause the reach around just sounds so gay
i dont even swing that way
i told you hoes before i'm the k
i to the d r o c k'n, rhymes sayin, guitar playin
turntable spinnin at a basement jam
no fame, no money, but you wouldn't understand
what it's like to be so real
you got the beats and the rhymes, but you aint got no feel
i dont need the fancy music to make mine
just the beat and the funky ass base line
drop a couple cuts on the track
8 tracks to the mother fuckin wack
so while your making record that dont recoup huh
i'm in the house gettin paid like snoop yeah
kid rock and i got all the hoes sayin
"fuck me baby, kid rock come fuck me baby
fuck me baby, fuck me baby, all night long
fuck me baby, kid rock come fuck me baby
fuck me baby, fuck me till the break of dawn"
i want my khakis washed, starched, and creased
i want an order of fries with a side of greese
i wish for peace throughout this land
i want the whole fuckin world in my hands
i want a band like the us funk mob