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| KID ROCK | Blow Me |
| Productos de este artista
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A bottle of jacks got my manager grinnin
yeah thats me that keeps the turntables spinniN
Im countin cards and I keep on winnin
I know God hates me cuz Im always sinnin
U dont know me blow me ho you wanna get hot
youll get your ass blown out fuckin with the Kid Rock
Eatin up ya suckers just the same way a beast could
tearin thru your town like muther fuckin Clint Eastwood
Cuz I be fakin the rhymes that keep ya shakin
makin a lotta money but dont let me be mistaken
I never thought about climbin up the pop chart
and I dont give a fuck u cant buy my tape in K-Mart
Give me a choice between soundin like an ass wipe
or sittin in an alley smokin crack from a glass pipe
Id be as skinny as a junkie with the AIDS plague
but still Id 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 pussy like Shaggy and Scoob
Cuz Im the wrong dude to fuck with my mouth is mental
and Im a tear shit up like they did in South Central
Son of a bitch Im the son of a bitch
nobody ever loved u so youre the son of a dick
Im a product of a young girl top in her class
youre a product of a hooker who was sellin that ass
And your styles in the past its old and dusty
so from now on Im callin u M.C. Crusty
Cuz to face me u must be blitzed or blasted
so now Im gonna drop ya like a hit of acid
And when I rip ya people they might stare
cuz I got more rhymes than Donahues got white hair
An yo buck wont you please be a friend
And tell your mom I wanna fuck and Ill pick her up at 10
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