How To Kill A Radio Consultant -Ridenhour-Robertz- Lyrics

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		Pusher of the button
		Talkin' loud ain't sayin' nuttin'
		The mack of the format gettin' fat
		Ain't funny 'cause my neighborhood
		Is flowin' money
		Thank God 4 the boulevard
		They keep the motor runnin'
		The rap shows coincide wit' the tape flow
		Bootleggers go inside and record the record low
		They get me, get this now can you freestyle
		Freestyle no styles free except da radio
		But the radio controlled by the sucker move
		Who moved away got away after plannin' a getaway
		An now he wanna play what he wanna play
		An got say on what is bumpin' of course he's gettin' somethin'
		Never know what's good to tha neighborhood
		Swear I never seen da sucker
		In my necka da woods
		The ass is connected to the brain stem
		So I sing a simple song
		So you can see the sucker in 'em
		People got to make a call
		To hear the yes y'all (yes y'all)
		While the phone keep ringin'
		You hear some singer singin'
		Why don't dey play the jammy in the daytime
		People think it's slammin' plus the rhyme
		Is hot an got me tunin'
		The afternoon is FM in the PM
		Oh if that they could see 'im
		Out-of-towner not down I think they'll dis him
		Up goes the season, pop goes the weasel
		Damn gimme rap no band I want some x-clan
		I know dey even got it from the giddy
		Stacked in the back
		Only black radio station in the city
		Programmed by a sucker in a suit
		Slick back hair he don't even live here
		Raps the number one pick so I draft it
		I don't care about all the other demographics
		When the quiet storm come on I fall sleep
		What dey need is Arbitron on the funky jeep
		Too bad it's goin' on in fact my word is bond
		To pull a disappearin' act attack until he gone
		The whacker jam he play they pay I'm in da day
		I don't think we gonna miss 'im we don't need 'im anyway
		Can I kick it
		Who the hell is on the radio
		Or who's behind
		Do you really think they'll mind
		To play the funky jams
		That everybody wit'
		Some Def Jef or Ice T
		Show they rollin' wit' the syndicate
		Or can dey get funky
		Wit' the underground
		Master ace get a taste
		Bomb squad gettin' hard
		Marley mart makin' hipper
		Trax for Jack The Ripper
		Pumpin' Eric B or Papa San
		Still rollin' wit' run
		Did you think that ever
		In fact you thought that never
		Control of your soul
		Is by a suit and tie
		Then U wonder why why U never hear a rhyme
		I say we do 'im
		Till it's done
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