Trustafarian Lyrics

He's got brown ratty dreads

And he dresses like a Frisco gypsy

You never catch him in shoes

And all the yuppies call him a hippy, yeah

His best friend's his dog, his ex-wife she hates him

He's always talking 'bout the war that he was in

But no one knows which one or how old he is

Some say that he's a doctor's son

Living off of checks from his trust fund

Others say that he just sells grass

You can believe whatever you want

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

And he creeps into camp

And he sleeps in his van at the state park beach

Leaves just as soon as the sun comes up

So he doesn't have to pay the fee

And he drives along that coast

And pulls over when he finds a good break

And he paddles out all alone

One two uh two three four

Some say that he's a Lawyer's son

Living off of checks from his trust fund

Others say that he just sells grass

You can believe whatever you want

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Last time that someone heard from him

They said he took his blue van to Baja, California

Loaded the surf-rack, bought a pound of new Jack

Doggy riding front seat he never gonna look back

No, no never gonna look back

Yeah-ee-yeah

Do you know the Trustafarian

Always up to no good and he's living on the run

Some say that his kind won't last

You can believe whatever you want yeah yeah

Some say that he's a rich man's son

Living off of checks from his trust fund

Others say that he just sells grass

You can believe whatever you want