Afroman - Mississippi lyrics

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(Palmdale was like the peak of my life, but Palmdale over with, homeboy. Im fittin to go home cuz.)
Please take me back home, (You know what Im sayin?) to Mississippi.
(I got my Greyhound ticket right here, man. Im 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 Palmers 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, Afromans the bomb, bump that!
Please take me back home, (Hell yeah!) to Mississippi.
From the delta to the coast, Im doin the most, grab your 40oz. Lets toast.

I sold rock cocaine down in Ellisville. Baseheads hit the pipe, they can tell its 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 cant 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, youre free to go.
A-F-R-O marijuana cargo, _________________
Cmon, Lets all get drunk tonight. I hope I dont fight with a punk tonight.
Get nervous, as I swerve this Cadillac through Purvis.
Hope I dont crash when I hit Petal, get my ass kicked in the white ghetto.
Prejudice police wont let me go, so Ima drive slow, hide my fro.
I was dumb, now Im dumber, yall, last summer, yall,
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 girls throat. (BUCCCCOC!)
I cant help it, Im a Crip, baby. I think you need to wipe your lip, baby.
Hula Hula Hula, the whole house ruler. Whats 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? Its the hungry hustler, Afroman
Flying through the air in my underwear, Geri curl activator in my hair.
Im in control like Janet, when I hit Jackson. Always getting plenty panty action.
McClaine. Even McComb. Tell the whole world Mississippis 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 Id see the Klu Klux Klan buying front row seats for the Afroman
Confederate flags tobacco in their mouth. Its a beautiful thing jumpin off in the South.
Afroman, Im a part of it. Hattiesburg hip hop, Im the start of it.
Im the latest. Im the greatest, and all you haters, Ill mash you like potatoes.
Ill 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, Afromans the bomb, bump that!
Please take me back home, (Hell yeah!) to Mississippi.
From the delta to the coast, Im doin the most, grab your 40oz. Lets 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 dont believe were grown.
But hey, G-dog, you and mell see dog. Whatever happens, cuz, its you and me dog.
Or should I say loc, (loc) cause you my folk (folk) so lets take a toke (toke) till we croak (croak).
Im a locster locster, honey spokester, drinking everyday like Im 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, Afromans 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 youre so cold the sun cant melt ya.

Please take me back home, (Yeee-ha!) to Mississippi.
Crooked letter, crooked letter, hump-back, hump-back, Afromans 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 youre so cold the sun cant melt ya.
Please take me back home, (We outta here.) to Mississippi.

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