Rollin' On The Island

(альбом: The Polyfuze Method - 1993)

Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Bell-Belle Isle Bell-Bell-Belle Isle

[Wes Chill / Prince Vince:]
Hey Kid Rock, tell them how you're living

[Kid Rock:]
Man I spend my birthdays at Denny's eating Southern Slams
I'm not a butt nut you know that I never bang
But I lick more coochie than K.D. Lang
But I'm not gonna kick an X-rated rap
And even if I did you know that you couldn't fade it, black
Because my rap's like gold, or precious gems
While your rap's like an 8th full of beeners and stems, huh
Kid Rock; I love to sing
Call me the King of Pain, but my name ain't Sting
Or Roger Clinton, I'm not riding off my brother's fame
Because all you sap-suckers don't even know my brother's name
Bill Ritchie, he lives in Chicago
He rides through town in an El Dorado
Mulatto, black, real white's how I'm looking
And I gotta give it up to my homies in Brooklyn
Romeo, Mt. Clemens to Metro Beach
From Houston, to L.A., back to Stoney Creek
Like I said, roll it up take a hit and then pass it
That's how we do it when we roll down Gratiot
It's guaranteed every time we get hoes
I play on my guitar, pumped loud through my Pignose
You'll never see me in Thailand
But you can catch Kid Rock on a hot day rolling on the Island

Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Belle-Belle Isle Bell-Bell-Belle Isle
(Here in Detroit)

[Kid Rock:]
Now Wes Chill you know we go way back

[Wes Chill:]
Kid Rock I remember guzzling 40s and your 4-Track

[Kid Rock:]
Yeah Wes, you're still my man
So, get on the mic and do the best you can

Oh yes, yes y'all, yes y'all, and you don't stop
Oh yes, yes y'all, yes y'all, and ya don't quit
Oh yes, yes y'all, yes y'all, and ya don't stop
Come on Wes, give them what you got

[Wes Chill:]
Give me the mic and I'm a wreck from the start to end
But gimme brew and gimme gat and I'm a do you in
You talking trash, I smoke that ass so fast you wouldn't know
What hit you bro, so here I got you thought I couldn't flow
To a track laid back by Kid Rock, G
Now even white bitches in the suburbs they jock me
With a smile pow wow they want this ghetto thing
So pow wow freaky chow, and I'm a let it hang
Born and raised in D.E.T. so I'm a let you know
You step wrong I step strong and I'mma wet ya whole crew
Yo, I thought you knew when I'd be rolling deep
No fucking Nytol needed to put your ass to sleep
I fly heads where there's dreads, bald heads or curly do's
I screw hoes from Shaniqua on down to Curly Sue
You think I'm joking, I'm poking your girl, she loving it
Sugar walls to my balls that how I'm shoving it
Wham bam, thank you ma'am, a dirty nigga-ro
And if your man wanna trip I let the trigga go
Pop, pop, pop, pop, now watch that nigga drop
Here go my cellular phone somebody call the cops
When they come I won't run, unload my fucking steel
And watch them hoe's in the flow like they was Johnny Gill
On the real deal, Wes Chill getting err'one buck whiling
That's how we do it when we rolling on the Island

Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Belle-Belle Isle Bell-Bell-Belle Isle
(Here in Detroit)

[Kid Rock:]
Now Prince Vince I remember hanging in your hood
With the 40s, hoes, do I make myself understood?

[Prince Vince:]
Yeah, I put you on them black hoes
They used to like your white ass, your blue eyes and your pointy nose

[Kid Rock:]
Yeah we pulled hoes in herds (word)
Then I took your black ass out to the suburbs
People don't know about you and me (or unity)
Ain't it funny how were still down in '93?

[Prince Vince:]
Don't let me catch you sleeping when you rolling though
Because if you do then I'm going to have to choose the weapon that I gotta use
And lock my infrared dead on that forehead
Buck, buck, buck motherfucker now your left in red
You're fucking around with a straight-up G
Now nigga you don't want to see me
Or the K to the I to the motherfucking D
Straight Gs from the streets
I'm dropping dope lyrics on dope-ass Kid Rock beats
Now I'm gonna kick it like this and like that
I'm kicking a funky track with Kid Rock because we go way back
Back in the days of the late 80s
When I dropped the gangsta funk and drove the young niggas crazy
But now were kicking it in the 90s
And Cruse St. is where the niggas will find me
Just cooling with my fellas, slanging shit late at night
But the jealous niggas trying to tell us
Slanging yay isn't the way to get paid
But fuck the bullshit all I'm thinking about is money that
I gotta get made, I got a pocket full of lint
Too much late former rate, and I gotta rest it
Shit the hookers, the hoe's the takers, the pros
A nickel-plated nina ready to explode
On any nigga trying to jack, rat-a-tat-tat
Put his ass on his back for the [?]
Now can I keep my style and get wild?
Me, Kid Rock and Wes Chill, just cooling on the Island
It's like this and like that
I told you motherfuckers better pack a gat

Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Belle-Belle Isle Bell-Bell-Belle Isle
(Here in Detroit)

[Kid Rock:]
I got my Harley on the highway revving
If a whip-it was a nipple I'd be lost in heaven
I'm rolling straight 7 so what up?
Like Bushwick said "You play pussy, get fucked" you're outta luck
'Cause I'm the baddest motherfucker from this time
For breakfast I snort cocaine and eat pork rinds
Shocking signs is what I'm sowing
I'm the hoe'in, all-knowing the mind blowing home growing
In my backyard, lying in the sun you know I fry quick
Getting lit when I be smoking that thai-stick
Because that's what the Kid's all about
I like rolling up on hoes and screaming "Balls in your Mouth"
From South Alabama, North Montana, I'm smoking and
Choking because you know I am a
Little long-haired high on, and you can find Kid Rock
In the gutter on the motherfucking Island

Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Belle Isle B-B-Belle Isle
Belle-Belle Isle Bell-Bell-Belle Isle
(Here in Detroit)