THE DAY

The day, the day, the day
Radio Djs killed the music

Gone are the days when DJs made their own plays
Now they're told to only play the songs that pay
But you know what they say, "Money makes things okay"
Don't disturb the goose where the golden eggs lay
Like babies they are fed the playlist formula
Just playing all the tracks that sound so similar
Acting as the mouthpiece of the mass manipulator
But my lyrics will be the regulator
They even stereotype all the same hype
Across all stations you hear the same tripe
Soon they'll be replaced by
a computer voice that says,
"At the tone please select your song
choice"
That's why I mourn…

CHORUS

Radio Djs are in a critical state of Code Red
Like comatose zombies the revolution's dead
I need the info that will make my appetite whet
But what you gave me
you just pulled off the internet
I bet you won't be missed if you get to work late
Your producer will take over and just "automate"
And your show will go on
Whether you're there or gone
Uncle Tom probably called you out to get some
Of the cash coated candy we like to call payola
You've been drinking from that bottle like it's vanilla cola
Growing older in the business
you be gettin' oh so bolder
There'll be no crying on my shoulder
when your world gets colder

CHORUS

Now can you enlighten me please DJ Bob
Can you give me a description of your job
Or do you just hobnob with celebrities
Signin' up for free trips to exotic amenities
Do you actually have a talent or skillz
You're very good at makin' clandestine deals
Back in the day you did things for the love of music
Now you treat it like a ho and abuse it
Carrying vinyls around with you everyday
But the songs you must play are on computer anyway
You say you promote local talent…just call it a day
I'd rather have a Black man working for the KKK