Yeah
That's right

Asked promoter, let them play my club
He said, "They’re free in 3 weeks but now, here’s the rub"

Well you know these babies, they’re well known for their conceit
He said they got this rider, and it’s pretty tough to meet

Now, I’ll take your number, fax their rider to your place
It’s really long, get more paper, just in case, yeah
I know it reads like they were, just really freaking high
But if you ignore it, you bet you’ll kiss your show goodbye

Get a doctor, tell him, tell him be on call
Plus a Rabbi and a shrine to St. Paul
Scented candles, unfiltered cigarettes
They won’t play for your concert, ‘til the rider’s been met

Eight Frappachinos, on the rider
’86 Bordeaux, on the rider
Echinacea and hard cider
It’s on page sixteen, just read the rider

I know you’re thinking that this rider makes no sense
But ‘cha better just do what it says, and don’t spare no expense
When you buy flowers make sure, no chrysanthemums please
Keep the drummer’s room, at eighty degrees

Spoken: Oh yeah, they’ll need a full kitchen

Autograph from Tom Brady
A humongous bamboo wind chime
And get the Real Slim Shady
With a half dozen pantomimes

Speakers so loud make the devil soil his pants
Twenty hookers, with double-D implants
Amp that goes to eleven, like the dude from Spinal Tap

Spoken: I think you know the dude that I’m talking about

And you better stack those speakers high
And keep the stage clear ‘cause they like to dance
Yeah, it’s a hard rider

Hot wings from Beef O’Brady’s
Everything in this rider you’ll provide, yeah
Make sure the front steps are lined with gold
Hummus and tamarasalata, Froot Loops and Cap’n Crunch
And some Kellogg’s Sugar Pops…