Dance on a DJ

I wanna dance on you, DJ. I wanna dance on you, DJ. I wanna dance on you, DJ. I wanna dance on you, DJ. I wanna dance on you, DJ. I wasn't gonna say anything, But that last song, It had no lyrics, but I got the message. It said you like to beat your drumstick against The skin of my drum, right? And that effective pause Was really just you waiting for my answer. I wanna dance on you, DJ. Now I know you're a DJ, hardly play a Song full length, but that's 'cause you haven't Played me yet. I'm aware that you got bags full of vinyl, But just put me on your playlist Like that last song. 'Cause something about the way, The way you let the music play makes my Hips sway, makes my thoughts stray, And makes my body say, "I wanna dance on You, DJ." Makes my... Makes my... Makes my... Makes my... I wanna dance on you, DJ. I wanna dance on you, DJ. Just in case you're struggling with my body Language, If you took the Y in your chromosome, And the E for entering and exiting, And the S for what we wanna do, You'd get the message. How's that for spelling out, Mr. DJ? Makes my... Makes my... I wanna dance on you, DJ. The bass guitar on that last song was great. It really struck a chord, but you should hear The sounds I make if you tug on my G-string. I'm not challenging your set. I too would just like to make you dance. I wanna dance on you, DJ. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my Legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes My legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. Makes my legs. I wanna dance to change.