[Verse 1] Pusher of the button, talkin loud, aint saying nothin The mack of the format gettin fat Yeah! It aint funny cause my neighborhood is low in money Ugh! Thank God for the boulevard, they keep the motor runnin Hey! The rap shows coincide with the tape flow What Bootleggers go inside and record the record low Ugh! They get me, get this now, can you freestyle? Freestyle, no styles free except the radio Ho! The radios controlled by the sucker move Who moved away got away after plannin a getaway And now he wanna play what he wanna play And got say on what is bumpin, of course hes gettin somethin They never know whats good to the neighborhood I swear I never seen the sucker in my neck in the wood The ass is connected to the brain stem A so I sing a simple song so you can see the sucker in em [Verse 2] People go to make a call to hear the yes yall While the phone keep ringin, you hear some singer singin Why dont they play the jammy in the daytime? People think its slammin, plus the rhyme is hot and got me tunin The afternoon is FM in the PM, and if only they could see em Outoftowner not down, I think theyll diss him Up goes the season, pop goes the weasel Damn, gimme rap, no band, I want some XClan I know they even got it from the giddy Stacked in the back, only Black radio station in the city Programmed by a sucker in a suit, a slick back hair And he dont even live here Raps the number one pick, so I draft it I dont give a damn about the other demographics When the quiet storm comes on, I fall sleep What they need is Arbitron on the funky, funky jeep Too bad its going on, in fact, my word is bond To pull a disappearin act attack until he gone The whacker jam he play they pay Im in the day I dont think we gonna miss em, we dont need em anyway [Verse 3] Can I kick it? Who the hell is on the radio? Or whos behind, do you really think theyll mind? To play the funky jams that everybody with Some Def Jef or Ice T and show they rollin with the syndicate Or can they get funky with the underground? Masta Ace get a taste, Bomb Squad gettin hard Marley Marl makin hipper tracks for Jack The Ripper Pumping Eric B or Papa San and rollin with Run Did you think that ever, in fact, you thought that never Control of your soul is by a suit and tie? And then you wonder why why you never hear a rhyme til I hear some King Sun I say we do em til its done
funky, sucker, radio, play, em