Kid Rock "Cowboy" - Music - http://maxpages.com/lyricstown/Cowboy

Cowboy...cowboy...

Well I'm packing up my game and I'm a 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 droptop, find a spot to pimp.

And I'm a Kid Rock it up and down your block.
With a bottle of scotch and watch lots of crotch.
Buy yacht with a flag sayin' chillin' the most,
then rock that ***** up and down the coast.

Give a toast to the sun, drink with the stars.
Get thrown in the mix and tossed out of bars.
Sip the Tiajuana... I wanna roam.
Find the old town chillin' fools then 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 headin' out west sucker... Because I wanna be a

Chorus:
Cowboy baby. With the top let back and the sunshine shining.
Cowboy baby. West coast chillin’ with the Boone's Wine.
I wanna be a Cowboy baby.
Ridin' 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 (whistle) 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 I'm gonna make my bid boy.
And let Cali-for-ny-aye know why they call me.

Chorus

Yeah... Kid Rock... you can call me Tex.
Rollin' sunset woman with a bottle of Becks.
Seen a slimmy in a 'Vette, rolled down my glass,
and said,
"Yeah this **** fits right in your ***"

No kiddin', gun slingin', spurs hittin' the floor.
Call me Hoss, I'm the Boss, with the sauce in the horse.
No remorse for the sherrif, in his eye I ain't right.
I'm gonna paint his town red, and paint his wife white HUH.

Cause chaos, rock like Amadeus.
Find West Coast ***** for my Detroit players.
Mack like mayors, ball like Lakers.
They told us to leave, but bet they can't make us.

Why they wanna pick on me...
lockin 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 Mc.
My only words of wisdom are just, "Suck my ****."
I'm flickin' my Bic up and down that coast
and keep on truckin' until it falls in the ocean.

Chorus

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Page Updated Sun Apr 16, 2000 11:51pm EDT