Luyện nghe bài hát The Prodigal Son Returns

P-P-P the boota, pass the boota
Cause i get, P-P-P pass the boota
P-P-P the boota, cause i wanna get off
All the fuckers that are to dis the Kid Rock
it comes to rhyms i got a new Caddy
You can get shot, but first i'm get hot
you got about as much flavor as a fuckin rice patty
It the way ahh
Babe, ahh quit your day job
But on the mic i'm God
And hard for your moneys what i x'ed hoe
i wont sell my soul for some wax dipped in cheap gold
Par 4 motherfucker gonna do
1 7 iron and i'm on the green at 2
With 1 putt i lyin a birdy in the
So it up hoe
I drive the show for dough
I get a lot of funny
I to fuckin crook
I aint your music, my man
Your dummy with your pride
And all jive your preachin, it's borin
And you cant tell me shit a funny vibe
God saved my soul, you save the fuckin rain
And i'll meet you in
The prodigal son Kid i rock well
(only will tell)
Well been coast from the midway
And at glance you wouldnt guess no
I even make my own wine
Smokin grass and lines
Moonshine, Red wine, stir it up, it up
Cut it up, light it up, sniff it up, it up
Roll it up, light it up, toke down, pass
Gimme a pipe and i just might it
it, sellect it, clean it, protect it
Suck it in, tie it up, stick it and it
All night, right, pop it drop it
Set it on your tongue and trip til you peak