| I was sitting on the island of Manhattan
|
| Or what it had been
|
| She said, «Take it easy, now, but you can’t move slow
|
| With all the time you took, you could have built a shantytown boat
|
| Sailed away to sea, caught fifteen reruns on the TV screen»
|
| I was walking, slow down
|
| Falling out of love with the radio sound
|
| Throw your hands up DJ
|
| We got verbal shotgun shells
|
| You better change up your rotation
|
| You best put your hands up now, DJ
|
| C’mon DJ
|
| And I was sitting by the railroad track
|
| Kicking back
|
| And off came my shoes
|
| I had the see-saw blues
|
| And all the while coming through a ghetto blaster
|
| That music was pushing me, move faster
|
| There’s a big bad wolf coming into town
|
| To blow the three little piggies off the radio dial
|
| We are calling out to you to move your bones
|
| Why don’t you pick up your phone
|
| Throw your hands up DJ
|
| We got verbal shotgun shells
|
| You better change up your rotation
|
| You best put your hands up now, DJ
|
| This is a call up, this is a stick up
|
| We are calling out to you
|
| To get those oral AKs and shoot up the DJ
|
| Come on, lets go, war on the radio
|
| Throw your hands up DJ
|
| Throw your hands up DJ
|
| Do you remember when we
|
| Used to sip Olde E
|
| And talk about similarities
|
| Between animals and you and me
|
| And the KKK and the NYPD?
|
| And the FCC
|
| Hey, fuck the FCC
|
| Throw your hands up DJ
|
| We got verbal shotgun shells
|
| You better change up your rotation
|
| You best put your hands up now, DJ
|
| This is a call up, this is a stick up
|
| We’re calling out to you
|
| To get those oral AKs and shoot up the DJ
|
| Come on, lets go, war |