And on the cool check in Center stage on the mic And we're puttin' it on wax It's the new style
Four and three and two and one, what up And when I'm on the mic, the suckers run, word Down with Adrock and Mike D. and you ain't And I got more juice than Picasso got paint
Got rhymes that are rough and rhymes that are slick I'm not surprised you're on my dick B E A S T I E, what up Mike D. Ah yeah, that's me
I got franks and pork and beans Always bust the new routines I get it, I got it, I know it's good The rhymes I write, you wish you would
I'm never in training, my voice is not straining People always biting and I'm sick of complaining So I went into the locker room during classes Bust into your locker and I smashed your glasses
You're from Secausus, I'm from Manhattan You're jealous of me because your girlfriend is cattin'
There it is, kick it
Father to many, married to none And in case you're unaware I carry a gun, where? Stepped into the party, the place was over packed Saw the kid that dissed my homey and shot him in the back
Man, I had to get a beeper 'cause my phone is tapped You better keep your mouth shut 'cause I'm fully strapped I got money in the bank, I can still get high That's why your girlfriend thinks that I'm so fly
I've got money and juice, twin sisters in my bed Their father had envy so I shot him in the head And if I played guitar, I'd be Jimmy Page The girlie's I like are underage, check it
Girls with boyfriends are the kind I like I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike My father, he's jealous 'cause I'm making that green I've got the girlie's numbers from the places I been
There it is, kick it
You wanna know why, because I'm October 31st, that is my date of birth I got to the party and I did the Smurf Taxing all females from coast to coast And when I get my fill I'm chilly most
We rag-tag girlies back at the hotel And then we all switch places when I ring the bell I chill at White Castle 'cause it's the best But I'm fly at Fat Burger when I way out west
K I N G A D whammy All the fly ladies are on my jammy Went to the prom, wore the fly blue rental Got six girlies in my Lincoln Continental
I met this girl at the party and she started to flirt I told her some rhymes and she pulled up her skirt Spent some bank, got a high powered jumbo Rolled up a wooly and I watched Colombo
Let me clear my throat, kick it over here baby pop And let all the fly skimmies, feel the beat, drop
Coolin' on the corner on a hot summer day Just me, my posse and M.C.A. A lot of beer, a lot of girls, and a lot of cursing Twenty-two automatic on my person
Got my hand in my pocket and my finger's on the trigger My posse's gettin' big, and my posse's gettin' bigger Some voices got treble, some voices got bass We got the kind of voices that are in your face
Like the bun to the burger and like the burger to the bun Like the cherry to the apple to the peach to the plum I'm the king of the Ave., and I'm the king of the block Well, I'm M.C.A., and I'm the King Adrock
Well, I'm Mike D., I got all the fly juice On the checkin' at the party on the forty deuce Walking down the block with the fresh fly threads Beastie Boys fly the biggest heads
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