How to Kill a Radio Consultant

[Verse 1]
Pusher of the button, talkin' loud, ain't saying nothin'
The mack of the format gettin' fat (Yeah!)
It ain't 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 style's free except the radio (Ho!)
The radio's 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 he's gettin' somethin'
They never know what's 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 y'all
While the phone keep ringin', you hear some singer singin'
Why don't they play the jammy in the daytime?
People think it's slammin', plus the rhyme is hot and got me tunin'
The afternoon is FM in the PM, and if only they could see 'em
Out-of-towner not down, I think they'll diss him
Up goes the season, pop goes the weasel
Damn, gimme rap, no band, I want some X-Clan
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 don't even live here
Rap's the number one pick, so I draft it
I don't 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 it's going 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 the day
I don't think we gonna miss 'em, we don't need 'em anyway

[Verse 3]
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 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 it's done