[ WP ] '' It is of my opinion that , if the great composers of western civilisation were alive today , their taste in music would surprise you . ''

`` Dude, we should have never taught Bach the N-word.'' 
 
 `` What? Are you crazy? He's the hottest producer in the world now. Every track is fire. He's got Juicy J rapping over complex fugues. *Fugues*, dude.'' 
 
 `` I know. It sounds great. That's not my point. My point is, Bach is racist as fuck now.'' 
 
 `` He does n't even know what the N-word means.'' 
 
 `` Exactly. That's the problem. It's his favorite English word now. They all laugh at him now, but one day it's going to get old. Bach's going to get his ass beat, or worse.'' 
 
 The red light ceases, and the two producers can enter the studio again. Inside is Johann Sebastian Bach, master of the fugue, light of western music, wearing dope-ass shades and a shit-ton of gold rings, plus ice on his chest. 
 
 `` Freunde!'' greets the old German. `` Deed you hearh zat take? Das track ist *fire*, mein niggas.'' 
 
 The first producer frowns. `` Um, yeah, Bach, it's great -- but we kind of want to talk to you about something.'' 
 
 `` Ja?'' Bach taps a button to carry his voice into the studio. `` Herr Juicy J, take funf.'' 
 
 `` You got it, man.'' Juicy J unhooks his headphones, reads ahead in his notes. 
 
 Inside the producer's room, the first producer crosses his arms. `` Listen, Johann -- you know we love you. You've done a lot for this company. You've single-handedly changed the direction of hip-hop. The stuff you do with a drum machine -- we never heard it before. But there's just one problem.'' 
 
 `` Uh-oh,'' Bach says. `` Should Ich nicht produce muzeek?'' 
 
 `` It's nothing like that,'' says the second producer, an uncomfortable smile on his lips. `` It's just that --'' 
 
 The door opens, and in bursts Ludwig van Beethoven and Jack White. 
 
 `` Freunde! Nicht diese Töne!'' shouts Beethoven. 
 
 `` In Englisch, Beethoven,'' says Bach. 
 
 Beethoven stands there, blinks. `` What are you doing here, Herr Bach? Myself und Herr White have reserved this time! Leave, now! Schnell! Schnell!'' 
 
 The first producer looks over. `` Beethoven and Jack White? This is going to be amazing!'' 
 
 `` Yeah, we're producing an album called *Beethoven's Tenth*,'' says White, strapping on an electric guitar. `` Here, listen to this riff we came up with for the first movement, it's going to blow you away --'' 
 
 `` Mein niggas, mein niggas,'' interrupts Bach. `` Nein. Ich habe Juicy J in das studio. You'll have to vait your tern, ja?'' 
 
 `` Juicy J?'' Beethoven yells. `` Who in die fuck is Juicy J? Ich habe Rockmusik geschreibt! Rockmusik, Bach! Play zee riff, Herr Weiss!'' 
 
 Jack White overpowers the room with a killer riff that's half-Beethoven fury in a minor scale, half Jack White rawness. The producers are blown away and applause, but Bach is unimpressed. 
 
 `` No harmony, no complexity,'' he says. `` Music eez a function of time as vell as space, ja? I vill show you how to write rockmusik. Give me das guitar, nigga. I vill improvise, ja?'' 
 
 But before Bach can play anything, piano music fills the room through the speakers. The producers, Beethoven, Bach, and Jack White are entranced by the sound of Mozart improvising on the studio piano. 
 
 Bach pushes a button. `` Herr Mozart! Who eez dees? Wo ist Juicy J?'' 
 
 Mozart giggles. `` Juicy J? Nein. This ist Katy Perry.'' 
 
 `` Hi,'' Perry says. `` Sorry, are we early? Wolfgang wanted to show me his variations on'Firework.''' 
 
 `` *Cuz baby you're a fiiiiiirewooooork, *'' Mozart sings, as his piano swells in major chords, higher and higher and higher, building up to a crescendo reminiscent of the Queen of the Night aria. `` *... and make them go,' [ ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? feature=player_detailpage & v=dpVV9jShEzU # t=41 )'!'' 
 
 Katy Perry is in tears. `` That's so beautiful! I've never heard pop music like that before!'' 
 
 `` Nein! Nein!'' Beethoven shouts through the studio microphone. `` This eez *our* studiozeit!'' 
 
 `` Off zee microphone, nigga,'' says Bach. `` *WO IST JUICY J? *'' 
 
 But Juicy J is behind Bach. With three friends. `` We told you, Johann -- you ca n't use that word.'' 
 
 Then, a loud *smack. * The second producer gasps. `` Juicy J is beating the shit out of Bach!'' 
 
 All mayhem has broken loose. Beethoven is swinging a guitar in self-defense. Jack White is plugged in, playing more of the Tenth Symphony. Mozart giggles and improvises variations to Jack White's riff, off the cuff. Katy Perry screams and runs out. The producers are struggling to break up the fight, when suddenly -- 
 
 --'' Hold on guys, Imma let you finish --'' 
 
 `` Kanye West!'' everyone shouts in unison. 
 
 Kanye looks stern. `` You ca n't fight like this, man. These are the greatest composers of *ALL TIME. * Juicy, you got Bach in a headlock. But if you kill him, you're robbing western civilization of some of its greatest artistic achievements. Of ALL TIME.'' 
 
 Juicy J lets Bach go. 
 
 `` And you, Mozart -- why are you covering Katy Perry songs? Do n't you know there's one pop diva that trumps them all?'' 
 
 Mozart looks sheepish. `` Ja, Herr West.'' 
 
 `` Beethoven! You and Jack White? You're already the rock star of classical music, dude -- you need to expand your boundaries. You could be the greatest of ALL TIME.'' 
 
 `` Ja,'' Beethoven says. `` Itz true.'' 
 
 `` As it stands, though, y'all ai n't even reserved the studio. Now get the fuck out, all you Nazi-ass, powdered-wig wearin crackers. Beyonce's gon na sing about booties and shit, and it's gon na be fire.'' 
 
 `` I could produce it,'' volunteers Bach. 
 
 `` Fuck that,'' Kanye says. `` I already got Rossini up in this bitch.'' 
 
 `` [ La la la le la! ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=7qHZkkgowdY )'' says the old Italian. `` La la la la! Bon giorno!''
