Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cowboy , by - The Hit Co.. Song from the album A Tribute to the Best of Kid Rock, in the genre КантриRelease date: 24.10.2006
Record label: Planet
Song language: English
Cowboy |
| Well I’m packin' up my game and I’mma head out west |
| Where real women come equipped with scripts and fake breasts |
| Find a nest in the Hills, chill like Flynt |
| Buy an old drop-top find a spot to pimp |
| And I’mma Kid Rock it up and down ya' block |
| With a bottle of scotch and watch lots a crotch |
| Buy a yacht with a flag sayin' «Chillin' the Most» |
| Then rock that bitch up and down the coast |
| Give a toast to the sun, drink with the stars |
| Get thrown in the mix and get tossed outta bars |
| Sip the Tiajuana, I want to roam |
| Find Motown, tell them fools to come back home |
| Start an escort service for all the right reasons |
| And set up shop at the top of Four Seasons |
| Kid Rock and I’m the real McCoy |
| And I’m headed out west sucker because I want to be a |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| With the top let back and the sunshine shinin' |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| West Coast chillin' with the Boone’s wine |
| I want to be a Cowboy, baby! |
| Ride at night cause I sleep all day! |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| I can smell a pig from a mile away |
| I bet you’ll hear my whistle blowin when my train rolls in |
| It goes (whistling), like dust in the wind |
| Stoned pimp, stoned freak, stoned out of my mind |
| I once was lost but now I’m just blind |
| Palm trees and weeds, scabbed knees and rice |
| Get a map to the stars, find Heidi Fleiss |
| And if the price is right then I’m gonna make my bid boy |
| And let Cali-for-ni-a know why they call me |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| With the top let back and the sunshine shinin' |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| West Coast chillin' with the Boone’s wine |
| I want to be a Cowboy, baby! |
| Ride at night cause I sleep all day! |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| I can smell a pig from a mile away |
| Yeah! |
| Kid Rock you can call me Tex |
| Rollin' Sunset woman with a bottle of Beck’s |
| Seen a slimmy in a 'Vette, rolled down my glass |
| And said «Yeah this dick fits right in your ass» |
| No kiddin', gun slingin', spurs hittin' the floor |
| Call me hoss, I’m the boss with the sauce and the whores |
| No remorse for the sheriff, in his eye I ain’t right |
| I’ma paint his town red then paint his wife white |
| Cause chaos rock like Amedeus |
| Find West Coast pussy for my Detroit playas |
| Mack like mayors ball like Lakers |
| They told us to leave but bet they can’t make us |
| Why they wanna pick on me |
| Lock me up and snort away my key |
| I ain’t no G, I’m just a regular failure |
| I ain’t straight outta Compton, I’m straight out the trailer |
| Cuss like a sailor, drink like a mick |
| My only words of wisdom are just suck my dick |
| I’m flickin' my Bic up and down that coast and |
| Keep on truckin' till I fall in the ocean |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| With the top let back and the sunshine shinin' |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| West Coast chillin' with the Boone’s wine |
| I want to be a Cowboy, baby! |
| Ride at night cause I sleep all day! |
| Cowboy, baby! |
| I can smell a pig from a mile away |