Missisippi Lyrics

Song Text:


(Missisippi was like the peak of my life, but Missisippi 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
Missisippi 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 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.