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Forever - Ron Pope



     
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Forever Lyrics


Oh, I'm back the fog is lifted
The earth is shifted and raised the gifted
You knew I'd be back so pack your bone
And hit the road jack 'cuz daddy's home
With the funky hot riffs, tick like Al Rocker
Pumpin' out hits, gettin' chips like Oprah
Bitch, I told ya, do not hate
Or question the music I make
I make punk rock and I mix it with the hip hop
I get you higher than a tree top
You wanna roll with the Kid Rock
I make southern rock and I mix it with the hip hop
I got money like Fort Knox
I'll forever be the Kid Rock
Forever
The junkies are still cigar puffin'
Still the same 'cuz I ain't changed nothin'
Huffin' and puffin' I got you rookie

All in check doin' the redneck boogie
The king is back to retract the whack
Repacked my sack with a double back pack
Forget all that I'm still singing
And like kids on monkey bars I'm still swingin'
Thought I got dusty, thought I'd get rusty
Thought I'd get rich and quit oh, he must be fat and ugly
Broke black and blue
But I'm trim fit rich and I'm back for round two
Red white and the Pabst blue ribbon
Dead right that's how I'm livin'
Givin' you more than the frauds and fakes
They can't make the kind of music I make
I make punk rock and I mix it with the hip hop
I get you higher than a tree top
You wanna roll with the Kid Rock
I make southern rock and I mix it with the hip hop
I got money like Fort Knox
I'll forever be the Kid Rock
Forever
The black hat is back in original form
The legible, credible, inevitable storm
Way past the norm still misbehavin'
Finger in the air and the flag still wavin'
Young crones don't test the boss
'Cuz I got this sewn like Betsy Ross
You can floss and front, you can taunt and tease
But you can't fuck with rhymes like these
Thumpin' like a drum kit with riffs that split picks
Pumpin' for the kids who twist spliffs and sip fifths
I got the gift I'm about to unwrap it
8 ball side pocket, 8 ball in my jacket
Pussy and blow you now how I live
Can't say that kid, fuck off I just did
Watch me twirl like Earl the Pearl
Or just keep on Kid Rocking in the free world
I make punk rock and I mix it with the hip hop
I get you higher than a tree top
You wanna roll with the Kid Rock
I make southern rock and I mix it with the hip hop
I got money like Fort Knox
I'll forever be the Kid Rock
Forever
Punk rock
Forever
Hip hop
Forever
Southern rock
Forever
Kid rock
Forever
Punk rock
Forever
Hip hop
Forever
Southern rock
Forever
Kid rock
Forever

Enjoy the lyrics !!!
Where should I start…these stories, my music, it comes from all the places I’ve been, the people I’ve been blessed to play music along side, the way it feels to play my guitar until it bleeds or to bang on that old piano in my living room until my shoulders ache and my fingers won’t move anymore. From Georgia to New York, New York to the road; Charleston and Memphis, Vermont to Chicago. Turned 21, then 22…released my first record with The District…Maine and Boston and who knows where else…made love in the grass and meant it…walked down Wilshire, blinking in the Los Angeles sun… got lost in Delaware scrambling to get home to my family after too much time…swam in the ocean with the boys, thanking God for purple and orange Florida sunrises. Soaked up New Orleans…tried to become Levon Helm; realized I wasn’t much of a drummer……turned 23. Wrote A Drop In The Ocean with Zach Berkman and then put it away for six months because I didn’t get it…fell in love…drank whiskey from the bottle and howled at the moon…released Last Call…played the blues back-to-back with Buz in Charlotte and just about everywhere else along that godforsaken highway…the van broke down…we fixed it…the van broke down again. Got lost heading to South Carolina and ended up in Alabama…fell out of love and hit my head on the way towards the bottom…turned 24…made a Christmas album, because, damn it, I like Christmas albums. Played big rooms…played small rooms …listened to Van Morrison and cried…listened to trains scream somewhere off in the distance on ink-black sleepless nights… I traced the outline of a woman’s face on a piece of paper; someone I loved and didn’t want to forget once we’d put the whole thing to bed. The picture didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped, so I took my ink-stained fingers and spelled her name out in big, smeared letters on my arm. I guess that’s all I’ve ever really had…my words. This music is the story of where I’ve been, who I am, and where I’m going…these songs are my life.

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Ron Pope