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(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 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

I see it, I get it, to find it below
You know me, your fire, but I can t let go
In silence, through canyons of motion we start

Beyond us there motions
Emerge from the dark
Now I m tied up in circles...

Your pentagram is down below our floor
your naked body shimmers in the night
yeah, dancing and chanting in a sacrifical rite
your feet are dry with the ashes from dead babies

who have
passed the test just like all the rest
but...

Connecting channel to channel
Communications are rebel
That we re looking for harmony
Like the bass and the treble
Divide it like pebble
Hallucinating battles
But we can t saddle separate the hassling tattle
Hope can strangle, mangled to confused and
Believe with the strength of
Rosicrucians
Searching for human touch
Trust will be loving such
Musical solution
Simple revolution beats and pulses
Our...

Pulse expire, death comes in a burst
black forecast of a lifelong thirst

lord of the tomb by my side
cadaverous, dead and insane in the eye
speak a madman s prophecy

he will drain my soul when it is free
phantoms...

Erik:
I ve been waiting for the stars to come out
Dinner it was fine
But I can t lie cause I ve been waiting
For you to come back to mine

I ve been thinking of you 24-7 and 365
And now...