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      Negroes 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're 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 on it      Parking lot's on fire, brothers peeling out of the town   They say in disgust, they singing their guts   Rapping done let us 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   Try it once then stop, they'll be begging   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 wanna lick my knees, I'm sure your mama will      Uh, 'cause we, 'cause we, 'cause we dead on it   De-de-dead on it, on it      La, la, la, la   La, la, la, 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-popping, 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      La, la, la, la   La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la   La, la, 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 fuck with me   'Cause I'm dead, on it, dead, on it, on it on it