Crazy Rap Afroman

(Wait a minute, man. Hey, check this out, tell it
It was this blind man, right?
Man, check this out- it was this blind man, right?
He was feelin' his way down the street with this stick, right?
Hey, he walked past this fish market, you know what I’m sayin'?
He stopped, he took a deep breath, he said
Woo, good morning, ladies

You like that shit, man?
Hey, man, I got a gang of that shit, man
I tell you what- my man on the guitar, fool on the drums
Everybody just crowd around the mic
I’ll tell you all these mutha-fuckin' jokes
But first, I’m a start it off like this
Hey, help me sing it, homeboy.)

Colt 45 and two Zig Zags, baby that’s all we need
We can go to the park after dark, smoke that tumbleweed
And as the marijuana burns we can take our turns
Singing them dirty rap songs
Stop and hit the bong like Cheech and Chong
Sell tapes from here to Hong Kong
So roll, roll, roll my joint
Pick out the seeds and stems
Feelin' high as hell flyin' through Palmdale, skatin' on Dayton rims
So roll, roll the ‘83 Cadillac Coup de Ville
If my tapes and my cds just don’t sell
I bet my caddy will