And on the cool check in
Center stage on the mic
And were puttin it on wax
Its the new style
Four and three and two and one, what up
And when Im on the mic, the suckers run, word
Down with Ad Rock and Mike D and you aint
And I got more juice than Picasso got paint
Got rhymes that are rough and rhymes that are slick
Im not surprised youre on my dick
B-E-A-S-T-I-E, what up Mike D
Ah yeah, thats me
I got franks and pork and beans
Always bust the new routines
I get it, I got it, I know its good
The rhymes I write, you wish you would
Im never in training, my voice is not straining
People always biting, and Im sick of complaining
So I went into the locker room during classes
Went into your locker, and I smashed your glasses
Youre from Secausus, Im from Manhattan
Youre jealous of me because your girlfriend is cattin
There it is, kick it
Father to many, married to none
And in case youre unaware, I carry a gun, where?
Stepped into the party, the place was over packed
Saw the kid that dissed my homeboy, shot him in the back
Man, I had to get a beeper cause my phone is tapped
You better keep your mouth shut cause Im fully strapped
I got money in the bank, I can still get high
Thats why your girlfriend thinks that Im so fly
Ive 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, Id be Jimmy Page
The girlies I like are underage, check it
Girls with boyfriends are the kinds I like
Ill steal your honey like I stole your bike
My father, hes jealous cause Im making that green
Ive got most the girlies numbers from the places I been
There it is, kick it
You wanna know why, because Im October 31st
That is my date of birth
I got to the party, you know what? I did the Smurf
Taxing all females from coast to coast
And when I get my fill, Im 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 its the best
But I fly at Fat Burger when Im way out west
K-I-N-G-A-D, whammy
All the fine ladies, they 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 the 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 MCA
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 fingers on the trigger
My posses gettin big, and my posses 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
Im the king of the Ave., and Im the king of the block
Well, Im MCA, and Im the King Ad Rock
Well, Im 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
Brooklyn