Turn Your Radio Off - Beefy

Turn the radio off, turn the radio off

Turn the radio off, turn the radio off

Turn the radio

Turn the radio

Turn the radio

Turn the radio off!

Hey You!

(Yeah you!) Could you do me a favour

And get a pad and some paper and jot the words of this saviour?

You need to turn that radio right off (right off)

Right off (right off) right off (right off)

Why?

Well son, I’ll tell ya boy;

the media, they’ll tell ya boy

That «Superman"'s a good song when it’s really killin' culture boy

The guys that dance don’t rap, 'cause rappers they don’t dance

They know how to produce a hit, same formula in every track

And that’s not art, that’s wrong, same ol' shit in every song

Zombies like to sing along.

Yo, let’s be strong, and bring it on

And put an end to the cut and paste, lyrically wasting space

Stop putting money in their pockets and just punch them in the fucking face!

But shh, I got a secret, they’re all just playing tough

Gangstas died out years back, these new kids homeslice they’re all talk

They do it for the paper bill, and to get a grill, and make a mill

So fake they don’t know who they are, they don’t know how to keep it real

Turn the radio off, turn the radio off

Turn the radio off, turn the radio off

Turn the radio

Turn the radio

Turn the radio

Turn the radio off!

So let me ask you, did ya hear what I said?

Of course you did, baby, I’m all engrained in your head

So listen up, pay attention, gonna start a revolution

They’ve over stayed their welcome, Beefy’s got the solution

Push em out your mind, out your heart, or over a cliff

Yo, if grunge rock had to die, I say that pop hop is next

'Cause they don’t bring nothing to the table not already there

That shit’s been played since I was a young 'un gripping a teddy bear

So while they holla «Paper paper, dolla dolla bills yall!

I’m straight from the block, y’all, reaching for my steel, y’all!»

I’ll get competitive, a nerdy representative

They’re rapping for the ducats, I’m just rapping for the hell of it

«Woop Woop!»

«Yeah Yeah!»

Those are not lyrics

You’re raping the spirits of dead MCs who use to feel it

And they would grip the mic and tell us stories, it was real from them

All ya do is steal from them, ya might as well be paying them

Turn the radio off, turn the radio off

Turn the radio off, turn the radio off

Turn the radio

Turn the radio

Turn the radio

Turn the radio off!