BadAss   
V.1:
He rolls around in a fire red caddy 
Stetson, Tecovas sharp 
Radio boomin' like a shotgun 
It's a game, he rocks the part 
All trimmed in gold, pockets bulge, crispy greenbacks 
He's a gamer, an' a schemer 
What he is, ain't hard to tell, packin' lies, foolin' believers 
Oh-oh, yeah... 
Pre-Chorus: 
Oh-oh, Oh-oh-Oh 
She pours his drink.... 
Shakes her rainbow head... 
Can't...contain...herself 
No-ohhh 
Chorus: 
Hey! Mister, wanna be Bad-Ass! 
You know how to put on a show 
But I can tell a candy-ass from a mile away 
Yeah, you comin' on the jackass 
I just cain't let it pass 
Ain't gonna get you nothin' in here, no ef-in way 
Be yourself, boy. Might get lucky boy. An' get some...get some... 
Class boy. That you ain’t, that you cain't 
Tryna be a wanna be Bad...Ass! 
Bad-Ass... 
Music Break: 
Chorus: 
Hey! Mister wanna be Bad-Ass! 
You know how to put on a show 
But I can tell a candy-ass from a mile away 
Yeah, you comin' on the jackass 
I just cain't let it pass 
Ain't gonna get you nothin' in here, no ef-in way 
Be yourself, boy, might get lucky, boy. An' get some...class boy 
That you ain't, that you cain't 
Tryna be a wanna be Bad-Ass! 
Bad-Ass... 
Music Break: 

She pours his drink 
Shakes her rainbow head 
She can't contain herself 
Hey! Mister Bad-Ass up yours 
Oh-ohhh...Oh-ohhh...Oh-ohhh...

BadAss

I write songs because I must. A compulsion, one might say, These songs often evolve from thoughts that sometimes lead me to think, "I wonder how that would sound if put to music." See, it's a compulsion. Oh, and therapy...can't forget the therapy.
B.T.W., these creations are available for licensing. All Rights, Privileges, and Copyrights belong to the author/creator: ME.

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BadAss

J.D.Wattler