Make Some Noise
[Ad-Rock:]
Yeah
Get up
Yeah
Uhh
Yes, here we go again give you more nothing lesser
Back on the mic is the anti-depresser
Ad-rock, no pressure, yes we need this
The best is yet to come and yes believe this
[Mike D:]
Lego my eggo while I flex my ego
Sip on Prosecco dressed up tuxedo
Sipping coffee playing keno in the casino
Want a lucky number? ask Mike Dino
[MCA:]
I burn the competition like a flame thrower
My rhymes age like wine as I get older
I'm getting bolder competition is waning
I got the ball and I see the lane in
We got a party on the left a party on the right
We gonna party for the mother f*cking right to fight
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
[Mike D:]
Our resurrection by popular election
Getting paid every year like tax collection
Hear my perfection rotary connection
Taking MCs down by lethal rap injection
[MCA:]
I'm like an ornithologist when I get pissed
You must have drank a fizzy lifting drink and you got lifted
And sifted I'm just riffin' and when I catch MCs it's time for wing clipping
[Ad-Rock:]
I fly like a hawk or better yet an eagle a seagull
I sniff suckers out like a beagle
My ego is off and running and gone
Cause I'm about the best and if you diss than that's wrong
We got a party on the left a party on the right
We gonna party for the mother f*cking right to fight
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
[MCA:]
Pass me the scalpel, I'll make an incision
I'll cut off the part of your brain that does the bitching
Put it in formaldehyde and put it on the shelf
And you can show it to your friends and say that's my old self
[Ad-Rock:]
Can do me nothing can't tell me nada
Don't bug me now because I'm doing the lambada
The forbidden dance, here's my chance
To make romance in my b-boy stance
[Mike D:]
Parlay romancing into the financing
Opened up a restaurant with Ted Danson
The roaches check in but they never check out
I set the record straight no doubt
We got a party on the left a party on the right
We gonna party for the mother f*cking right to fight
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me
Writer: Michael Louis Diamond, Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
Nonstop Disco Powerpack
[Intro: Beastie Boys]
(Well how you feelin' Ad Rock?) Well I'm feelin' well
Bonafide, qualified, with a story to tell
(Well how feelin' Mike D?) Well I feel all good
All day is how we play in the neighborhood
(Well how you feelin' MCA?) Well I feel right
I swing my words on the track 'cause the track sound tight
(So if you're feelin' good and you're feelin' right)
(Uhh, somebody step up and grab the mic)
[Ad Rock:]
Well hello everybody and how you been
It's Ad Rock rappin' on the microphone again
I got grace class style finesse and debonair
Murderalize motherf*ckers 'cause I just don't care
The Emcee Whisperer kinda like a trainer
I take sucker rappers; I put 'em through a strainer
Like macaroni 'cause the shit sound cheesy
Watch how it's done boy, it looks easy
The non-stop, goin' off, kingpin, microphone
Boss, do my own thing, you can't afford the cost
Of my fly styles that complete the turnstile
'Cause it's live and direct, and I'm wiggidy whack!
Now get your ass on the floor, I got total control
I flow like the water out your toilet bowls
Your style is cheap boy, just like a Dutch
You know you're not smokin' on the microphone much
There's a certain special talent that I never lack
Huh hah huh hah! And that's a fact
'Cause we shine like the chrome on a Cadillac
You better break a wishbone 'cause we never wack
Then, we never that and that is that
And we're the nonstop disco powerpack!
Uhh, that's right, we go all night
Who gonna be next to bless the mic?
[Beastie Boys:]
Now this is the way we run it down
We're gettin' you high on the funky sound
This is the way we get it on
B-Boys in the house 'til the break of dawn
[Mike D:]
See I mix my style up like a cement mixer
Smooth'll fix ya like a rhyme elixir
Hey yo yo soundman, make Mike's mic louder
Don't make me sound cheap like a box of douche powder
I'll max and relax, champagne mojito
Don't go commando, don't know bandito
Je m'appelle Michèle, very long
Me and Dawn in the shack and we got it goin' on
Quincy's in the hot tub like it's '73
Lookin' over his shoulder and he's lookin' at me
I'm up right in the face, towel around my waist
What's up with that watch inside the glass case?
I go to make my move, sneak out the place
Undetected! Not leavin' a trace
Party's done, microphone's wrecked,
Wine's been drunk, and heads been checked -
I see one last profiterole, I make my play
And pass the microphone to MCA
[MCA:]
Non-stop, from the top, when you clock, then we rock
Them not kickin', them not stickin', we be makin' hip-hop
(So c'mon everybody get down... yeah)
Now there's a spot check, get the dead count down
'Cause I'm a break it down for ya how we burn it down
Pound for pound, keep the bass-lines round
See you rockin', clockin', checkin' my sound
[?] but I grew up with hip-hop
Still got mad love for a record called "Beat Rock"
It meant a lot spinnin' on my Walkman
Shout-out, to the Afrika Bam'
And to the S to the P the double-O-N-Y
The one emcee, who you can't deny
At least he threw me records, that made heads fly
Sit down to write and the pen blazed fire
Construct a rhyme, with specific intent
Flippin' from the brain cells right to the pen
And then I put the root down when I hold the mic
Words flowin' so cold turn water to ice
Come through to rock such a rate to tape
You put me in the mix like
[?] up at the plate
And then they press it on wax, sell it in the store
The DJ's screamin' "KICK IT! " out on the dance floor
Comin' through the speaker to shake your eardrum
Brain cells get with it make you hear where we're from
[Outro: Beastie Boys]
Ad Rock, HUH! Get it on
We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn
Now Mike D, HUH! Get it on
We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn
And MCA (yeah) get it on
We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn
Beastie Boys in the house, DON'T STOP!
[Echoes]
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Brooklyn Dust Music, Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc.
Ok
Oah-kayyyyy!
[MCA:]
You talk and talk and you just can't stop
But when it comes to mine - it's a crock
What you say, is lackluster
I thrash emcees who try to bring a filibuster
[Mike D:]
Yeah, right, yeah okay
Tell me somethin new to start the day
Said see you later, when you comin home?
It's a gift, it's a curse, it's a telephone
[Ad-Rock:]
Now let's start over with a nice clean slate
Please stop stressin with the hurry up-date
Heard you the first time, that sounds great
But back up out my space, okay?
(Yeah yeah, right right) OKAY!
Okay
[x4]
[Mike D:]
Wrapped in pink ribbon, so pretty
My name's Mike D from New York City
I guess it's all, in the mind
What, I, leave, behind
[Ad-Rock:]
Want to be smooth like a nice nutter butter
Then I show chagrin every word that you utter
Yes you said you are a big deal
But money calm down - for real!
[MCA:]
Got, to control my mind
Got to slow down rewind
What, is goin on in my head?
Why's the sky gone red?
(What is goin on in my head? Why's the sky gone red?)
(What is goin on in my head?...)
[x3:]
What is goin on in my head? Why's the sky gone red?
(What is goin on in my head?)
[Ad-Rock:]
Now, I don't give a f*ck who the hell you are
Please stop shoutin in your cellular
I never asked you for part of your day
So please stop shoutin in your phone okay
[MCA:]
You lie like a plain clothes cop
Take a look and take a look and then stop
Take a minute get your mind unlocked
Get the rhythm when I do you the wop
[Mike D:]
What's goin on in in my head?
And why has the sky gone all red?
Be kind, rewind
At least tell me what it is I did
Or just say what should I say
Hmmm... okay!
(Yeah yeah, right, right) OKAY!
Okay!
[x4]
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
Too Many Rappers
Mic check, mic check
One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's still not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done like
Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, let it out
Yo, I been in the game since before you was born
I might still be emceein' even after you're gone
Strange thought, I know, but my skills still grow
The 80's, the 90's, 2000's, and so
On and on until the crack of dawn
Until the year 3000 and beyond
Stay up all night, and I emcee and never die
'Cause death is the cousin of sleep
Because I'm back with a bang boogie, oogie oogie
Strawberry letter 23 like Shuggie
Oh, my God, just look at me
Grandpa been rappin' since '83
Oh, I'm supersonic like J.J. Fad
Got crazy ass shit pullin' out the bag
Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo, 'cause it's sad
All these crap rappers, they're rappin' like crabs
I have carte blanche, the vagabond
Nas is the narcissist, my pockets are rotund
I'm no killa, but compared to you, I'm more real'a
You ain't a shot, a mobster, or a drug dealer
A slug peeler, you're not, mafioso, no
You ain't got the cutthroat in ya, beginner
I ain't tryin' to hear your racket
You work with police dog, you snitch, you rat, you wear that jacket
How many rappers must get dissed
Gimme eight bars, and watch me bless this
I start to reminisce, oh, when I miss
The real hip hop with which I persist
Like rum in mojitos, bullets and banditos
Matzah balls in soup, jackets and troop
Yes, y'all, this is one for the history books
Nasty Nas, what's the word, count it off on the hook
Let's go! One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's still not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done like
Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, let it out
'Cause this the type of lyric goes inside your brain
To blow you bullshit rappers straight out the frame
My lyrics spin round like a hurricane twister
So get your hologram on off of Wolf Blitzer
Too many rappers to shake a stick at
I outta charge a tax for every weak rap
I had to listen to 'cause we be makin' stacks
Like Stax Records, my squad we gotta pack, we never coming whack
To all you crab rappers and hackers
And Circuit Fenders, two-tone splendor
I take the cake, I stole the mold
The golden microphone, well that's mine to hold
And why all these biters all up in my crotch space?
Sniffin', puffin', huffin', and mean muggin' with a Blimpie Bluffin
Back up off me, sucka, you ain't sayin' nothin'
I'm broader than Broadway, I was in project hallways
Dual tape recorder, lacin' oratorials all day
I'm just getting started on this beat, this is foreplay
And when this song finished, y'all can sing along with this
By the way, I have a strong fetish for Christian Louboutin steppers
I hear Russian blonde's the wettest
But anyway, I better pay homage to my fellas
And that's what's on my mind and the rhyme, who's next up?
Mike D, the man of mystery
History in the makin', and now we're takin'
Titles, awards, and accolades
Scarin' the competition as I sharpen my blades
We come together like peanut butter and sandwiches
Like pen and paper, like Picasso and canvases
Rockin' stadiums and shitty bars
Go back in time, send a fax from my car
One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's still not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done like
Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, let it out
Writer: Michael Louis Diamond, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Adam Horovitz, Nasir Jones
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Universal Music - Z Songs, Brooklyn Dust Music
Say It
To the heart of the matter, the mic I shatter
So cold on the mic it'll make your teeth chatter
You climb the corporate ladder to make your pockets fatter
We be flipping styles like pancake batter
Looking through your binos spying on me
I'm running like a wino on a drinking spree
Call yourself an MC but what's the truth?
You gotta another noose inside the toll booth
Suckas sniffing on socks, chewing on rocks
My competition has the combination to the lock
You wanna get inside and well then you best knock knock
And then to get on you got to rock non stop
Once it hits your mind what you gonna do?
Don't keep it inside... you got to...
Say it! Let it out, let it out.
Scream it out! Run and shout, run and shout
Riot! Gotta put it out, put it out.
Say it! Gonna get it out, get it out.
Reach out on my dope bicycle
Now I can feel it in my blood stream see it in the eyes
People lining up with their own demise
They have the man made troubles to monetize
Corporate violence we can't reply
You could keep 'em out of service and you're a complainer
You bust your ass, Jones, like you slipped on a banana
Like nick nack paddy wack you got to let it out
From the vine to the line to the world give a shout
Line to the line paper to the pen
A brand new dance called David Rodigan
You sure really wanna let me begin
You can't stop me rhyming when I let go
Life is good and then it gets you
Stuff you thought it comes true
Once it hits your mind what you gonna do?
Don't keep it inside... you got to...
Say it! Let it out, let it out.
Scream it out! Run and shout, run and shout
Riot! Gotta put it out, put it out.
Say it! Gonna get it out, get it out.
Reach out on my dope bicycle
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
The Bill Harper Collection
[timpani sounds and dramatic music for 13 seconds]
[EXPLOSION]
Another, official, selection
From the Bill, Harper, collection!
"Hey Adam, it's Bill. Umm, thanks."
Don't Play No Game That I Can't Win
It's hot here gotta say it's so
I got you right where I want
Got an honest face so you turn your back
When in doubt run up your attack
At one time you were slick and your grill was cold
And now funny how the shit gets old
You can run you can run but it will catch up
Like now see me I'll show you up
Now yo wanna get back when you had your shine
But you run you can run but it will catch up
Like now see me I'll show you up
Now you wanna get back when you had your shine
But you run the same thing every time when you rhyme
Can't stop won't stop no compromise
It's a house of cards built out of lies
Coming down like a bird floating on the mist
Turn on the track back track and twist
You work hard to climb the list
Twenty years of schooling and they put you on the day shift
I know the danger of a man (that's danger)
Who's been to hell and back again (danger)
Can't tell tomorrow from where he's been (that's danger)
Don't play no game that I can't win (danger)
You're caught now by the skin you're in
In a bind now your thoughts go to all your sins
Hits much harder back better count on that
I tell you what we know always holds us back
Now you mutter and you stutter and you putter don't stop
I got in your heart and I shook you up
In a bind now your caught by the fear setting in
Choked on the thought that you don't it again
Keep the competition in check
You draft your plans at your drafting desk
You try to play to win but now you lost
Like clams with no tartar sauce scheming in the attic
Thought you had it
So dramatic
I-Got the stats mathematics
Automatic-systematic
She's super bad now
Whatcha watcha want now?
I know the danger of a man (that's danger)
Who's been to hell and back again (danger)
Can't tell tomorrow from where he's been (that's danger)
Don't play no game that I can't win (danger)
Don't play no game that I can't win (danger)
Don't play no game that I can't win (that's danger)
Don't play no game that I can't win (danger danger)
Don't play no game that I can't win (that's danger)
I know the danger of a man (that's danger)
Who's been to hell and back again (danger)
Can't tell tomorrow from where he's been (that's danger)
Don't play no game that I can't win... (danger)
Don't play no game that I can't win
Don't play no game that I can't win
Writer: Santi White, Adam Yauch, Adam Horovitz, Michael Louis Diamond, Michael Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing International Inc., Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
Long Burn The Fire
[Intro:]
This is it y'all, it's some nasty shit
Bring it!
[MCA:]
Jump out the window onto a parade balloon
My style is iller than the goblins in "Troll 2"
'Cause I'm the type of MC with the most pizzazz
You're stealin' my book like I was Grandmaster Caz
Got rhymes about antihistamines and analgesics
Rhyme about expectorants; you don't see it
Sueth sayer, not a player, rhyme sayer extreme (huh!)
Burn like fire when I step on the scene
I've got shark's teeth so I can bite your head
I've got tiger's claws that will scratch you dead
I've got wings like a dragon when I'm flying above
Shoot venom from my eyes when it's time to get rough
So step back, and check yourself
This MC'S got weapons that'll ruin your health
So if you're feeling strong then reach for yours
My book is my shield and my mic is my sword
[Ad Rock:]
Now, it's Ad Rock rappin I'm back again
Like a Big Mac attack on your gut, and it's wack my friend
I'm a maxer relaxer and I'm chillin
I take that shit serious like Jerome To Grillin
I burn you to a crisp sucker back up off the toaster
I make you sick like a Kenny Rogers Roaster
See this rap thing is all about the the braggadocia
I check my rearview, emcees ain't gettin closer
People think I'm slow, cause I'm just I'm underchallenged
See me you're like "Man, that's remarkable talent"
Live 'round the clock like Disco Donut
I'm like a tailer cause I got the thing sewn up
Or a proctologist I move asses
Got so much heat that I fog your mom's glasses
Proof is in the pudding and the pudding's in my pants
You heard me rap and now watch me dance
[Mike D:]
Save the date! For when they hoist our number to the rafters
Above the haters you can hear our laughter
Like Willis Reed or Elton John
We done been in the game and our game's still on
It's like tic-tac-toe, or operation
Just holdin it down, like the gravitation
To all the heads that said, NO CAN DO
Adrock's in the bath filled with chocolate fondue
Straight up nuts like my name is Mike Bazzini
Bonafide household name like Sergio Tachini
Wasn't we here back on raisin hell?
Or runnin wild like rats in the taco bell
On the mic I spit, the match is lit
Mike Dino the jeish Brad Pitt
Making music for librarians to burly jocks
The rapper MIKE D known for cur-ly locks!
Writer: Michael Louis Diamond, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Adam Horovitz
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
Funky Donkey
Put this on a zip disk, send it to your lawyer, file me under funky
Like sipping lemonade and Arnold Palmer
Big holiday parties like Dolly Parton
Sometime I get Pad Thai as a starter
My other order pad see yes is much darker
Adam Horovitz, I take a shvitz
I'm known for my glamour and my glitz, check it
As I bust I really must encrust
This microphone rust with Diamond fairy dust
I don't wear Crocs and I don't wear sandals
The pump don't work 'cause the vandals took the handles
Stop singing that song in the wrong key
What you looking at?
Funky donkey
I go woooo like a fire engine
Flashing lights to get your attention
Stop sweating me about the weather
Go shave a sheep and knit yourself a sweater
Don't get me heated or y'all in trouble
Bass is booming make the dancehall bubble
Letting loose all up in the honkey tonk
With the shoopa doopa doo bedonk
Well I was swimming in the water of the ocean
Like Dr. Jeckyl with the magic potion
We're brand new, never ever the same
What's that what's that what's the name?
Funky donkey
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
The Larry Routine
Oh!!
This routine dates way back
A lot of people may remember this routine
but it's evolved, now
Yeah from the summer before last
[Mike D]
Well my name's Mike D and I got a new name
And that new name is - LARRY!!
[Ad Rock]
Well my name is Ad Rock, and then I got a new name
And my new name is - HARRY!!
[MCA]
Well my name is MCA, but I got a new name
And that new name is - GARY!!
[Beastie Boys]
Well my DJ's name, it stayed the same
Cause his new name is - BARRY!!
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
Tadlock's Glasses
[Ad-Rock:]
Now, it suffice, to say that I'm nicer
Nice in the cut, and yes I'm the slicer
Or should I say, I'm the filet-er
I hate the game, I hate the puh-layer
But don't get discombobulated and upset
Because trust me, we ain't even begun yet
[Chorus:]
Mike D has gotta rock it we rock it non-stop
Ad-Rock down, rock it we rock it non-stop
MCA gotta rock we rock it non-stop
And you don't stop, the body rock
[Mike D:]
Watch me make the fire, now I make it sizzle
As I flip your omelette, at the D Pizzle
Like Molto Mario, they call me taster D
Or a quick fire challenge put that
[?] on G.D.
You can,
[?] and fortified
Not squares on the block and not taken for a ride
[Chorus:]
Mike D gotta rock and we rock it non-stop
Ad-Rock gotta rock and we rock it non-stop
MCA gotta rock and we rock it non-stop
And then you don't stop, the body rock
[MCA:]
Got bass lines bubblin up on out of my hands
And I don't never claim that sounds too grand
Shazam! I sprinkle on some magic dust
You gotta be the one to dance, and that's a must
Yes I cuss, when I grab my nuts
Got a six finger demon says excuse our dust
[Totally distorted]
Mike D's gotta rock and we rock it non-stop
Ad-Rock's gotta rock and we rock it non-stop
MCA's gotta rock and we rock it non-stop
And you don't stop, for what, to what
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
Lee Majors Come Again
Hold up. Goddamnit, this thing. Alright, wait.
Hold on, Adam. This thing keeps fallin' off.
Woo! Doin' it big! Ah-ah!
I'm the lyrical, mathematical genius
Splashing like lime juice, you've never seen this
Internationally known, the longest, the leanest
Shout-out to one José Nenis
I hit 'em with the rhyme and the rhyme don't stop
We got the beat and the beat go drop
The ping pong paddle make the battle go pop
Now take a look around this spot
I'm seeing every detail like an over-cranked camera
Sleestaks in the back say 'Damn ya'
You say 'I can't' and I say 'Why can't ya?'
Chopping the track in the--in the land of...
You wanna buy this
You wanna take that
Wanna-wanna try this
Wanna-wanna make that
You can't abide this
You wanna fake that
Take a look around you
You wanna buy this
You wanna take that
Wanna-wanna try this
Wanna-wanna make that
You can't abide this
You wanna fake that
Take a look around you
There's a bird in here
That's my DJ, not Doctor Brassiere
Dropping bombs like a bombardier
Like cacao, it's a chocolatier
We're giving y'all a lil slice of heaven
B Boys bringing it back to A7
Deal with the schism, ride on the rhythm
Sweet like pie and the pie's what I give 'em
I'll stage a coup and usurp your position
'Cause--'cause like a Mormon, I'm on a mission
We're audible-visible
Cadence is lyrical
Got the mental and physical
When the moment is critical
You wanna buy this
You wanna take that
Wanna-wanna try this
Wanna-wanna make that
You can't abide this
You wanna fake that
Take a look around you
You wanna buy this
You wanna take that
Wanna-wanna try this
Wanna-wanna make that
You can't abide this
You wanna fake that
Take a look around you
Ruff!
Uh, Lee Majors come again
Like the Six Dil- Million Dollar Man
Woo! Watch out!
In the back of the bus...gonna bust!
Lee Majors style
I said stop! Watch how I flip
Bill Piedmont with the Kung-Fu grip
Haymaker, roundhouse, show can't continue
At the roller rink down in Virginia
Oh, yeah, did I spill the beans?
I see your grandpa in Apple Bottom jeans
A Von Dutch cap, Ugg boots to match
The word gets out, you can't take it back
I'm just a pause tape competition expert winner
Just a doggone, long-armed, tall yarn spinner
You want a battle? Easy now, star
My DJ's so nasty, he needs a sneeze guard
You wanna buy this
You wanna take that
Wanna-wanna try this
Wanna-wanna make that
You can't abide this
You wanna fake that
Take a look around you
You wanna buy this
You wanna take that
Wanna-wanna try this
Wanna-wanna make that
You can't abide this
You wanna fake that
Take a look around you
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament
[Instrumental]
Here's A Little Something For Ya
Yes, yes, yes
Ill out the gate, I set it off
I suppose you're exposed, so get lost
And break north, cut all connections
Join the sucker MC witness protection
M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-Mike D
Step off the launch in the place to be
Always on time so I never botch
The tick to the tock of the Mike D watch
Here's a little something for ya
I'ma drive a little and stall ya
Don't lose your balance and fall ya
And if you're feeling chilly I'ma get you a shawl
Get ready, get set (get set)
Place your bet (your bet)
What you get (you get)
Is not done yet (done yet)
Get ready, get set (get set)
Place your bet (your bet)
What you get (you get)
Here's a little something for ya
Honest Mike, what? Honest Mike D
Don't really care if the press likes me
I just speak my conscience, just speak my mind
I don't trip or flip and then I start to find
Queens up front, Brooklyn's in the back
Flack from flack guns, riot squads smokin' crack
The odds are stacked for those who lack
I been a lucky motherf*cker when it comes to that
I slow roast, I'm steady tappin'
Oh, yes, I guess I'm the toast of Manhattan
In Miami, I'm sleazy with John Salley
Shout out to Andre Leon Talley
Get ready, get set (get set)
Place your bet (your bet)
What you get (you get)
Is not done yet (done yet)
Get ready, get set (get set)
Place your bet (your bet)
What you get (you get)
Here's a little something for ya
The shit is crazy
The shit is crazzzeee
Dr. Carlton Brassiere, a.k.a. Joyce
Dr. Bombay is the ladies' choice
Step on stage to the smoke from dry ice
Every time we bring it twice as noice
Now ease up brethren, take an Excedrin
Only name check to rhyme is Tippi Hedren
I'm lookin' fine, I'm gettin' much finer
Steady lounging in my La-Z-Boy recliner
Losing it in traffic, amped up on coffee
Like kids going wild after school for Mr. Softee
Like a slice around the corner, uh, it's sneaking up on ya
Breathing down your neck, uh, it's creeping up on ya
Get ready, get set (get set)
Place your bet (your bet)
What you get (you get)
Is not done yet (done yet)
Get ready, get set (get set)
Place your bet (your bet)
What you get (you get)
Here's a little something for ya
Crazy Ass Shit
"On and on, to the break of dawn"
[x4]
[Ad Rock:]
Now, let me introduce myself, I'm Ad Rock (Rock)
No matter what you order from I got it in stock (stock)
We doin our thing, well we got it on lock (lock)
Gonna pop off the lip with the old non-stop
[MCA:]
So take it from me now I'm gonna give it all I got (got)
I'll take a licking, still tick tick tock (tock)
Smoked salmon, ate old school lox (lox)
A zooted buddha baby and I buy gray socks
[Mike D:]
It's Mike on the mic and I'm known to please (please)
Stinkin, nasty, like the head cheese (cheese)
Cat scans, honorary degrees
Rhymes fresh pressed like eighty-three Lees
"You can't stop you've got to keep on"
"Keep, keep-keep-keep, keep-keep on"
"You can't stop you've got to keep on"
Well that's all I got, except I just got...
[?]
[Mike D:]
Tissue up my nose and my dicks in a cast (cast)
I am
[?] but her past is bad (bad)
All you perfect bums that are into crabs (crabs)
Come take a shower and wash that ass
[Ad Rock:]
Rock non-stop in the New York City (City)
Got the heat on the mic lookin so damn pretty (pretty)
Sittin by me well it must feel shitty (shitty)
The real thing to say - here it goes - tough titty!
[MCA:]
I got my rhymes in a pitcher and it's time to pour (pour)
I'm at the tee and I'm screamin FORE (FORE)
Get into your party as I declare war (war)
I'm gonna feed this hunger that smile like a dinosaur
"You can't stop you've got to keep on"
"Keep, keep-keep-keep, keep-keep on"
"You can't stop you've got to keep on"
"Keep, keep-keep-keep, keep-keep on"
"You can't stop you've got to keep on"
"On and on, to the break of dawn"
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Polygram Int. Publishing Inc., Brooklyn Dust Music
The Lisa Lisa / Full Force Routine
Awww shit.
Woah, what?
Aaaaand,
Front (front), back (back), sucker then a snack pack (pack),
I (I) got (got) lawn mower whack (whack),
Get (get) down (down) grade A ground (round),
Sound that you're loving giving (giving) us a pound (pound),
Full (full) force (force) Lisa (Lisa) dope jam,
All (all) night (night) listening to Dope Man,
You can (you can) say (say) yes we're looking pretty (pretty),
Money (money) making (making) New York Citaaay!