Riding in my Thunderbird on the freeway
I turned on my radio to hear some music play
I got a silly rapper talking silly shit instead
And the only good rapper is one that’s dead on it
Uh, dead on it
Shall we go back? (Yeah)
Let’s go
Negros from Brooklyn play the bass pretty good
But the ones from Minneapolis play it like it oughta should
A magnum fro is better when you got a poof on it
And the to and fro is funky when the grease is dead on it
(Funky dead on it)
Uh, dead (on it) on it
Shall we go back, let’s go
They dead on it, wow
See the rapper’s problem usually stem from being tone deaf
Pack the house then try to sing,
There won’t be no one left (ha ha) (on it)
Parking lot’s on fire, brothers peelin’ out of the town
They say in disgust, they singin’ their guts
Rappin’ done let us down (down, down)
You got to be dead, on it
Dead on it
(Dead)
All the sisters like it when you lick ’em on the knees
Don’t believe me? (No)
Do it once then stop, they’ll be begging
Please, please, please (please, please, please)
Shoo be doo wa, dead on it
What does that have to do with the funk?
Nothing, but who’s paying the bills?
If you don’t want to lick my knees, I’m sho’ your mama will
Uh, ’cause we, ’cause we, ’cause we dead on it
D-d-d-d-dead on it, on it
La, la, la
La, la, la
La, la, la
My bed’s a coffin, Dracula ain’t got shit on me
My nickname’s Hell’s-a-Poppin’, I’m badder than the Wicked Witch
I got a gold tooth, costs more than your house
I got a diamond ring on four fingers, each one the size of a mouse
They dead, they dead on it, on it
La, la, la
La, la, la
La, la, la
La, la, la
La, la, la
La, la, la
Wait now, hang up, dial tone on the three
You know, you know, I’m busy, to scizzy
Can’t nobody f*ck with me
‘Cause I’m dead (on it, on it, on it)
On it
Shoo be doo wa wa, dead on it
Dead on it, on it, on it
Dang, dang, dang, dang, (dead on it) shoo be dang, dang, dang, dead on it
Dead, dead on it
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