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Artist: Kid Rock
Album:  Grits Sandwiches for Breakfast
Song:   New York's Not My Home
Typed by: timmy.bogenburt@gmail.com

Burnin', oh no, oh no, here we go now
Oh no, oh no, here we go now
Oh no, oh no, here we go now
Oh no

Went to New York to cut my first LP
Ridin' down Broadway in a taxi
Hang a right at twenty-fifth
Just a little too swift
Yo, let me out, I'm gonna walk from here on
Here's four bucks, you drive like a moron
Lost in the Apple, and I'm all alone
Cause New York's not my home

In the, in the village just illin' with a forty in a brown bag
I'm seein' freaks and also fags
I see a set of nice legs within my site
But it's a fuckin' transvestite walkin' in the daylight
Now I'm trippin' and I'm like blown
But I take another sip and say to each his own
He'd get dissed in Detroit but I'll leave him alone
Cause New York's not my home

Now if your sounds are knockin' to the cool Kid rockin'
My *beatbox sounds* has got your girl jockin'
Take a chill pill your man, close your flap
Cause like the Piston Joe, I'm goin' back to back
With a track, uh, that's just too clean
I got my pistol packed and a fifth of Jim Beam
Only nineteen, and my name ain't Wilbur
But I pull more hoes than Long John Silver
I don't dress up or try to look pretty
Instead I rock the house in every major city
From the tip of Maine to the coast of Cali
I get down and yodel in the valley
Can't say I'm from the Bronx or Brooklyn zones
Cause New York's not my home
Eighth ave. in the forty deuce, it's like a freak show
A lot of hookers try to pop that weak, so
I walk with a limp when I pimp through
Or co-mack those hoes if I'm illin' with the Beast Crew
It's pickin' up ill, check this fact
These motherfuckers pay over two-fifty for a Big Mac
Conjested, overcrowded, see ya, I'm gone
Cause New York's not my home