Am What I Am Kid Rock

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 the game since we was flipping cassettes
And you still ain't met a motherfucking 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