Uh-uh-oh, I'm coolin' with my niggas on the Wake Up Show-oh-oh We kick a little somethin' for the radi-uh-uh-oh I'm coolin' with my niggas on the Wake Up Show-oh-oh We kick a little somethin' for the radi-uh-uh-oh Check it, bust it Tune it up, it's the corrupt novelist, Nas, involved in this Liveness, radio waves, slaves thrive inside of this Wake Up Show flow, hip-hop's alarm clock, the bomb spot Mellow with ganja that makes my eyes turn yellow Seat reclined on my leather sofa, however close to 9pm Joe Quixx, King Tech, I could just see 'em On the one and two, son, my blunted crew pour the rum 92.3, number one in the slum Representin' DJ's, Sway's the host, he parlays the most What a collaboration, see, I'm comatose No pork, just knowledge and I'm born once more It's the beat that blesses the street, deep in the '94 Hip-hop's last prophet henceforth in existence The 92.3 megahertz will exert radio waves That slays from a phenomenal distance Electrons appear to slice through Jeeps that you can hear some Slum literature, consider it will numb your eardrum, kid You're sleepin' like a Latter Day... Saint But Sway & King Tech'll wake you up on Saturday 9 to 12 verbal junkies overdose And Joe Quixx'll get you fixed to the mix And then I'm ghost when Uh, in your sleep, I slap you with the lethal doses of medicine So Wake Up with Organized and the brethren King Tech, Joe Quixx better than your last fix Severin' wackness with Sway the host, dose a fat mix Baby doll's frontin', so Saturday night's open Hoppin' on the 101, time scopin' 92.3 degrees, chokin' on chocolate, FM dial smokin' Prince Po' blows up from LA to Hoboken, and I'm out Yo, it's the Wake Up Show My genetic make-up take up One hundred and thirty pounds of beef But lyrics shake up like January 17th Crossover's extinct, MCs is fossils Protect ya neck and wear a bulletproof vest on ya tonsils Amateurs bandage ya cornea 'Cause you don't wanna see California C-arson and spittin' arsenic With Sway, Tech and Joe Quixx on the mix Spinal meningitis ain't as stiff as the riff of Ras Kass Styles lash like racist crackers with whips Come equipped, you're losin' your paraphernalia I'm a hip-hop apostle singin' the gospel like Mahalia Jackson Each Saturday, 9 until the break of dawn Put cocaine on my tongue, you got crack, now rock on... Uh-uh-oh, I'm coolin' with my niggas on the Wake up Show-oh-oh We kick a little something for the radi-uh-uh-oh I'm coolin' with my niggas on the Wake up Show-oh-oh We kick a little something for the radi-uh-uh-oh Saturday night, get live, set it off right Swing with my peeps King Tech, yo, pass the mic And turn her up 'til you hear the speaker blow Dred Scott, it's 9 o'clock, time for the Wake Up Show To the break of... you think I'mma say dawn But I say day 'cause it rhymes with Sway, my word is bond I'm on the scene, plottin' out the mainstream, doin' it right With Joe Quixx on the mix, late in the night So, tune in 'cause the crew don't sleep Boomin' in ya Jeep on 92.3 It's 9 o'clock PM, 92.3 The Beat begins To rock hip-hop non-stop, you know who got the props In L.A. on Saturdays, Tech and Sway no doubt Set your clocks for the unorthodox hip-hop that drops 9 to midnight King Tech and Sway, yo, those kids is tight In the mix with Joe Quixx, the verb spit verses With the purpose of droppin' curses like a triple six Fat snares and dirty kicks to get ya open From Watts to Oakland, it's that raw ish that's thought provokin' Spoken, words precise like a laser Crossroads and the Wake Up Show Will get your party shakin' like a pager, on silent mode, yeah Nine to 12, Saturday nights, fool, peep the episode Wake Up Show, and you can tell I'm not spittin' it in no muffled style No silent, screams just weddings, rings To swings and Sway Techs King, Tech- -nique and ability and a little agility from Joe Quixx Hey, Jay-Z and me eyes is seen But only on the bottom of water risin', we're takin' roots Put it on 92.3 while you're beatin' boots, oops I meant coupes bumpin' into missions on a twamp Swoop Saturday between nine and 12, I'm delvin' Where we'll then tune in to the phantom of the year Here on 92.3 times me Hobo Junction wreaks of odors that only soldiers Are connected to Wake Up... Show Ya right Uh-uh-oh, I'm coolin' with my niggas on the Wake up Show-oh-oh We kick a little somethin' for the radi-uh-uh-oh I'm coolin' with my niggas on the Wake up Show-oh-oh We kick a little somethin' for the radi-uh-uh-oh