Kid Rock - Am What I Am

I don't hang with snowflakes, big fakes or suck-ups
I roll with the gangsters, rednecks and fuck-ups
Dropping them caddies and jacking them trucks up
Hunting and fishing, you know what's up
Hanging these bucks up, straight Boone and Crockett
Rocking the mic just like white chocolate
Been in the game since we was flipping cassettes
And you still ain't met a motherfucker like me yet, huh

I was born in the country
I grew up in the streets
I got down in old Detroit
Raised some hell in Tennessee
Praise the Lord every Sunday
Couldn't care less what people think
"Yes, sir, yes ma'am", a sinner, a saint
I am what I am, I ain't what I ain't

(I am what I am) damn, it feels good
Damn it feels good

I like truck stop chicken, pickles and french fries
All kinds of women, skinny or thick thighs
No mirage, baby, open your eyes
I got a camouflaged double wide up on the hillside
So fly you could call me the fliest
So high you could call me your highness
So what if I'm over the hill? Come on
Say I won't, 'cause motherfucker, I will

I was born in the country
I grew up in the streets
I got down in old Detroit
Raised some hell in Tennessee
Praise the Lord every Sunday
Couldn't care less what people think
"Yes sir, yes ma'am," a sinner, a saint
I am what I am, I ain't what I ain't

I was born in the country
I grew up in the streets
I got down in old Detroit
Raised some hell in Tennessee

I was born in the country
I grew up in the streets
I got down in old Detroit
Raised some hell in Tennessee
Praise the Lord every Sunday
Couldn't care less what people think
"Yes, sir, yes, ma'am", a sinner, a saint
I am what I am, I ain't what I ain't

I am what I am, I ain't what I ain't
Damn, it feels good
I am what I am, I ain't what I ain't
Damn, it feels good

Written by:
Corey Crowder, Michael Hobby, Robert Ritchie, Tyler Hubbard

Publisher:
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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