To Whom It May Concern

The Suga D-I-C, D-A-D-I-E

That's just a title explaining who I be

Mister L-E-W-N-G-E

I'll take a sucker from any field and injure thee

Now that I've spelled it out and you like the way it sounds

I'm dissing rap music and wack music on the ground

You say I'm full of sheep and for that I give a pound

The Suga Dic-Daddy, Mister Long to break it down

Ladies step to me for a real neat treat

And if you don't want to call me Long

You can call me sweet meat

I wear protection, you won't catch claps here

Come over later but first go get a pap smear

Nine point five okay dear?

And don't forget clean underwear

'Cause I don't want the funk to flow

And after I nut, yo, you gotta go

Don't you know, ho?

Don't you know, ho?

Okay enough is enough

Time to get that off my ladder

And dig deep into subject matter

I'm sick and tired of rap that's not real

And suckers making it with a pop feel

Labels signing acts for enough bills

Tax write off 'cause they have no skills

You go make a demo, get a deal and start to sprout

Gold, platinum, and then start selling out

You get a Benz and trash Denova

Double platinum and start crossing over

Then you get full, I won't give examples

Hint hint, they use the same old samples

But not the Sheep, for we are sleek and unique

Top of the peak and others are weak

Follow the words I speak, the situation is bleak

But this is the fly shit that you seek

When the style is dope Mister Long's a participator

If you want to battle, later

'Cause Black Sheep are certified greater than

But, I said later, man

I can dig it

I turn on the radio

Be it prime time to a late night rap show

Hear the same old, same old

And that's on your new single

Your product is a product of no productivity

Can ya see, G?

You kick a wack style and claim to have brains

Take the funky drummer and give him back to James

"I'm dope, I'm dope!" Heh, I can't cope

Keep your cordless because you're bovis

You say you're sure, yeah, but I'm the surest that

Black Sheep are unique

Funky clever brothers that will make a church girl freak

Out, without a doubt

You have no wins in a ninety-one bout

So shout, pout

Do what you want but you're out the picture

And I'ma get ya, sucker

'Cause youse a dumb motherfucker

Better off as a tractor-trail trucker

But moving right along to the Woodstock, stop

Remember when the band was on rock?

Negro music, heh, separated

It blew up and then came rap and you hated it

That's of course 'til you see

A motherfucker that could be in your family

Drop lyric then you hear it with glee

The only thing it tells me

Is that you know a good thing when you see it

You run to get a tan 'cause you cannot be it

Still, off the top of my head

I guess I keep it rolling 'til, ah, the raps get stolen

Like so many other things for theft

And when it's gone, what will be left?

You, sucker

Dumb fucker, don't turn blue

Talking to you, sucker