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Lyrics Home :: A :: Afroman :: Tumbleweed

Lyrics for Tumbleweed by Afroman

(Damn! How long it’s gonna take you to roll the joint, cuz? You over there actin’ like you playin’ the piano or something. Let me hit this homeboy. Yeah… it looks lovely.)
Bucccoccc!
(Hey where the light loc? Give it here.)
I love you baby. I love you honey, yes I do.
Yee-uh. Yee-uh. Bucccoccc! Yee-uh. Yee-uh. Bucccoccc!

It’s been a long, long time I’ve been smoking, smoking marijuana.
It takes me out of my mental ghetto and places me in the Bahamas.
It’s been a long, long time I’ve been smoking, smoking marijuana.
It takes me out of my mental ghetto and places me in the Bahamas.
It puts my mind at ease, indulging myself in the calm breeze
And my problems will float away beyond the palm trees.

But I gotta keep smoking, and a-smoking, and a-smoking on
I keep choking, and a-choking, and a-choking on.
I keep sellin’, and a-sellin’, and inhalin’ my tumbleweed.

I like to go to Palmdale and sit by the fountain. (sit by the fountain.)
I light up a fat one gazin’ at the snow-capped mountains. (Come again, now.)
I like to go to Palmdale and sit by the fountain. (sit by the fountain.)
I light up a fat one gazin’ at the snow-capped mountains.
Baby, please don’t nag. Go and get me the Zig-Zags.
And my problems will float away like a plastic bag.

But I gotta keep smoking, and a-smoking, and a-smoking on
I keep choking, and a-choking, and a-choking on.
I keep sellin’, and a-sellin’, and inhalin’ my tumbleweed.

I need to get a job and that’s not funny.
Cause me be smokin’ too much ganja and be runnin’ outta money.
(Hey, can I get a dollar, loco?)
I gotta lie to the man (Let me get an application.) Tell him that I’ve never been arrested.
(So you have never been to jail?)
I gotta go to the clinic baby. I gotta get drug tested. (Oh no!)
I got no food for my stomach, got no gas for my Coup De Ville.
I gotta walk to the supermarket for some Golden Seal.

Cause everyday I be smoking, and a-smoking, and a-smoking on
I keep choking, and a-choking, and a-choking on.
I keep sellin’, and a-sellin’, and inhalin’ my tumbleweed.

I said the black man’s smokin’ (the black man’s smokin’) if he’s a soul brother.
(Hey, man, what’s happenin’?)
I said the Mexican’s smokin’ (the Mexican’s smokin’) if he’s a cholo.
(Hey, where you from Essay?)
I said the Creole’s smokin’ (Creole’s smokin’) down in Mississippi
(Fuck Creoles.)
The white man’s smokin’ (the white man’s smokin’) if he’s a hippy.
(Where’s the bud, man?)

It puts my mind at ease, indulging myself in the calm breeze
And my problems will float away beyond the palm trees.

But I gotta keep smoking, and a-smoking, and a-smoking on
I keep choking, and a-choking, and a-choking on.
I keep sellin’, and a-sellin’, and inhalin’ my tumbleweed.

(Right about now, I’m fittina dedicate this to everybody who went to Palmdale Highschool with me. Check this shit out, cuz.)

Doobie-do-wah. Doobie-do-wah. Doobie-do-wah. Doobie-do-wah.

Jobey Jo has an afro. Sing something with soul…

It puts my mind at ease, indulging myself in the calm breeze
And my problems will float away beyond the palm trees.

But I gotta keep smoking, and a-smoking, and a-smoking on
I keep choking, and a-choking, and a-choking on.
I keep sellin’, and a-sellin’, and inhalin’ my tumbleweed.

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