(Palmdale was like the peak of my life, but
Palmdale over with, homeboy. I'm fittin' to go
home cuz.) Please take me back home, (You know
what I'm sayin'?) to Mississippi. (I got my
Greyhound ticket right here, man. I'm fittin' to
go back and kick it with my family, cuz.) Please
take me back home, (take a couple pounds of this
weed) to Mississippi. (You shmell me, homeboy.
Yeah, take them fools back to '82, cuz.) Before
South Central Palmdale flossin', I stayed in a
place called Palmer's Crossing. Hattiesburg,
Mississippi, smoking marijuana like a Woodstock
hippy. All my homies in Laurel, beg borrow, buy my
rap tape tomorrow. (Bucccoc!) Tell DJ Pumpkin Keep
it crunckin' Clyde. Request my tape when you go
inside So I can take Jane and girl to Waynesboro,
fuck their little homegirl, make her toes curl,
rock their world, leave with their Auntie Sheryl.
She sucks me sucks me, fucks me fucks me, cries
every time I leave Biloxi But I hops in the Coup,
'cause I gots to go scoop another ho from Tupelo
Hit it once, hit it twice, then I hit it again.
Hit it in Meridian, make that bitch rub her clit
again, pinch the nipples on her tit again, suck my
dick until she spit again. BUCCCOC! Please take me
back home, (Hell yeah!) to Mississippi. Crooked
letter, crooked letter, hump-back, hump-back,
Afroman's the bomb, bump that! Please take me back
home, (Hell yeah!) to Mississippi. From the delta
to the coast, I'm doin' the most, grab your 40oz.
Let's toast.
I sold rock cocaine down in Ellisville. Baseheads
hit the pipe, they can tell it's real. Kept my
dope stashed with this hootchie, way down yonder
in East Bouche. Cops be sweatin' outa town, dog.
Sweatin' my car with a hound dog. Separate me from
my bitch and shit, tryin' to get my bitch to
fuckin' snitch and shit. Officer Roscoe P.
Coltrane running warrant checks on the Afroman But
I can't be no hip hop star cuffed in the back of
some police car. Did you find the gun? NO! Did you
find the dope? NO! Open up the back door. Well,
son, you're free to go. A-F-R-O marijuana cargo,
__ C'mon, Let's all get drunk tonight. I hope I
don't fight with a punk tonight. Get nervous, as I
swerve this Cadillac through Purvis. Hope I don't
crash when I hit Petal, get my ass kicked in the
white ghetto. Prejudice police won't let me go, so
I'ma drive slow, hide my 'fro. I was dumb, now I'm
dumber, y'all, last summer, y'all, I fucked all
the little girls down in Sumrall. Grabbed my
guitar and started pickin' a tune for Nikki and
[ Find more Lyrics at www.mp3lyrics.org/lc5 ]
June down in Picayune, baby! Just like a shovel I
be diggin' all the pretty young women in Wiggins.
On the boat, Gulfport, I got my dick down some
girl's throat. (BUCCCCOC!) I can't help it, I'm a
Crip, baby. I think you need to wipe your lip,
baby. Hula Hula Hula, the whole house ruler.
What's up with all the bitches down in Pascagoula?
Small towns, small cities, but they still got big
ol' asses plus titties. Is it a bird? Is it a
plane? It's the hungry hustler, Afroman Flying
through the air in my underwear, Geri curl
activator in my hair. I'm in control like Janet,
when I hit Jackson. Always getting plenty panty
action. McClaine. Even McComb. Tell the whole
world Mississippi's your home. Yazoo, Columbia and
Natchez. I got the weed brother, who got the
matches? (I do.) Who got the funky DJ that
scratches? (I do.) Depend on me like my name was
patches. First it was a black thing, just the big
Willies. Now I roll Phillies with all the
Hillbillies. Never ever thought I'd see the Klu
Klux Klan buying front row seats for the Afroman
Confederate flags tobacco in their mouth. It's a
beautiful thing jumpin' off in the South. Afroman,
I'm a part of it. Hattiesburg hip hop, I'm the
start of it. I'm the latest. I'm the greatest, and
all you haters, I'll mash you like potatoes. I'll
make your girlfriend holler and scream, then cook
me some cornbread and collard greens. BUCCCOC!
Please take me back home, (Hell, yeah!) to
Mississippi. Crooked letter, crooked letter,
hump-back, hump-back, Afroman's the bomb, bump
that! Please take me back home, (Hell yeah!) to
Mississippi. From the delta to the coast, I'm
doin' the most, grab your 40oz. Let's toast.
!982, '83, '84 Erin, Broste, Carlos, and Tonto.
Tryin' to break dance in my B-Boy stance, Micheal
Jackson glove, parachute pants. Calvin Gary,
Garnett Jones. G-dog, cuz, I don't believe we're
grown. But hey, G-dog, you and me'll see dog.
Whatever happens, cuz, it's you and me dog. Or
should I say loc, (loc) cause you my folk (folk)
so let's take a toke (toke) till we croak (croak).
I'm a locster locster, honey spokester, drinking
everyday like I'm supposed to. Bottle after
bottle, dog, in my lip-a, flowing on the mic like
the Mississippi river.
Please take me back home, (Hell, yeah!) to
Mississippi. Crooked letter, crooked letter,
hump-back, hump-back, Afroman's the bomb, bump
that! Please take me back home, (Get on down!) to
Mississippi. From the coast to the delta, Afro, we
felt ya. Boy you're so cold the sun can't melt ya.
Please take me back home, (Yeee-ha!) to
Mississippi. Crooked letter, crooked letter,
hump-back, hump-back, Afroman's the bomb, bump
that! Please take me back home, (Get on down!) to
Mississippi. From the coast to the delta, Afro, we
felt ya. Boy you're so cold the sun can't melt ya.
Please take me back home, (We outta here.) to
Mississippi. |