Reheated Pop! Lyrics - Busdriver

Buy my posthumous full-length 

My colorfully packaged disembodied shriek 

Converted to ring tones used in car ads 

Sung by winged gnomes over the head of Dick Clark 

Cover pages graced by the chiseled hard abs 

Of this now charred slab of dead pop diva 

Recreated as the head of Biz Mark 

Spliced on top of Hello Kitty 

On a virtual land mass with a hip-kink 

It's lip-synched to my song and committed to telecine 

And the nothing left of me is left to bask in a camera flash 

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I've never been so successful 'till I died 

And my label wished my heavenly chariot 

Pre-board defunct 

I didn't die in a hail of gunfire 

I died doing extreme sports at a resort 

On a bungee cord on a ski jump 

No need to ask how a dead rapper can be a label's cash cow 

They just record me months before on G-funk string chords 

Add an R&B chorus 

Hit a keyboard key to punch 

Even though I'm dead 

I was booked on a fortnight 

To exhaust notes dressed like a cockroach 

Now I'm cooked and ate with a fork and knife 

As your reheated pop sensation 

Photos 

I'm framed under a caption reading "prog-rap" 

And given open-handed god smacks 

By partisan zealots who not only think I draft-dodged Iraq 

But that my back catalog is wack 

And for it I should be flogged and smacked 

But little do they know I'm dead already 

And their complaints are small and petty 

My autopsy was broadcast and shot on a webcam 

I'm a dead man with golden blood in my bedpan 

But still my pop song climbs 

And you can buy it when you shop online 

Prop my lifeless body up next to the podium as I accept applause 

I'm an award-winning dead dude 

With a tour pending and a celebrity love interest 

I signed a movie deal to play a starring role 

The film crew doesn't even suspect I'm dead 

I'm your own martyr 

I'm dead but don't unplug my phone charger