Haha... Ooh, I'm back (back), the fog is lifted The earth has shifted, and raise the gifted You knew I'd be back, so pack your bone and hit the road Jack, cause daddy's home Wit the funky hot wrists, thick like Al Rocker Pumpin out hits, gettin chips like Opera Bitch I told ya, do not hate or question the music I make, ugh
I make PUNK ROCK, and I mix it wit the HIP-HOP I getcha higher than a TREE TOP You wanna roll wit the KID ROCK (yeeaah!) I make SOUTHERN ROCK, and I mix it wit the HIP-HOP Got money like FORT KNOX, I'll forever be the KID ROCK FOREVER!
The junky's are, still cigar smokin Still the same cause I ain't change nuttin Huffin, and puffin; I got two rookies all in check doin the redneck boogie The king is back, to retract the wack Re-pack my sack, wit the double fat back Forget all that, I'm still singin (yeeaah!) and like kids on monkey bars I'm still swingin Thought I got dusty, thought I'd get rusty Thought I'd get rich and quit, oh he must be fat and ugly, broke black and blue but I'm trim fit, rich and back for round two Red, white and the Pabst Blue Ribbon Dead right, that's how I'm livin Givin you more, that the false and fakes They can't make the kinda music I make, eh-huh
The black cat is back, in original form The legible, credible, inevitable storm Way past the norm', still misbehavin Finger in the air and the flag still wavin Don't come, don't test the boss cause I got this sewn like Betsy Ross You can floss and front, you can taunt and tease but you can't fuck wit rhymes like these Thumpin like a drum kit wit wrists that slit picks Bumpin for the kids who twist, splif and sips fifth I got the gift I'm about to unravel (Eight ball, side pocket) Eight ball in my jacket Pussy and blow, you know how I live You can't say that Kid, fuck off, I just did Watch me twirl, the earl, the pearl or just keep on Kid Rockin in the free world
PUNK ROCK - FOREVER! HIP-HOP - FOREVER! TREE TOP - FOREVER! KID ROCK! (yeeaah!)