(Afroman talking) (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 Smokin marijuana like a Woodstock hippy All my homies in Laurel Beg borrow Buy my rap tape tomorrow 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
[Chorus] 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 40 ounce, 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 hoochie Way down yonder in East Bouche Cops be sweatin outta town dog Sniffin 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 Runnin 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 Flossed like a cholow In a clean low glow Come on 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 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 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 ole asses plus titties Is it a bird? Is it a plane? It's the hungry hustler Afroman Flyin through the air in my underwear Geri curl activator in my hair I'm in control like Janet when I hit Jackson Always gettin 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? Who got the funky DJ that scratches? 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
[Chorus]
1982, '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 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 Cause you my folk So let's take a toke Till we croak I'm a locsta locsta Hundred spokesta Drinking everyday like I'm supposed to Bottle after bottle dog in my lip-a Flowing on the mic like the Mississippi river
[Chorus - 2X]
Compositor: Joseph Foreman (Afroman) ECAD: Obra #23306723