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Kid Rock New York S Not My Home

are my homies? Up to no good Where are my homies? Yup I'm so hood What up pimpin', pimpin', I'm exempt already See my hoes are like my plates, temporary

' I'm at your wake in the choir Standin' harmonizin' It's in'fa red the shit that be on top of the heater The best thing in New York Since Steinbrenner

of choices Going nowhere fast Still hearing voices Come on legs come on feet I?m just tryin make a little bit of history I?m home sick rocking the New York

much for any demon style to master me From the thought's next bridge to the hell's gate, lyrically detonating Sparking M-80's and bottle rockets it's

bank's down the block So now I'm close to home, I clock, I plot With popote He's my cousin and a wily one Though the kid was younger, quick like thunder

mic wrecker The lethal weapon, I keep you high steppin It's not my fault that niggas listen to me And wanna rob shit, 'cause I do my motherfuckin job kid

pimpin' shit, word 'em up, word 'em up Kid Rock, Kid, Kid Rock, Kid, Kid Rock And I'm pimp of the nation, word, you stay on third base I'm goin' home

rest Drinkin liqour, puffin on the buddha sess I threw on me a rough rider I slid inside her Chorus: Wit my cheebas, my liquors My condoms, hit the

thinkin' this kid is a joke? I put chumps to rest fast, when my Smith Wes' blast So just dash or trespass and get your chest smashed Rap New York rules