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Beastie Boys – Too Many Rappers Lyrics

Read Time:3 Minute, 37 Second

Featuring Nas

Mic check, mic check

One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and theres still not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, thats 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 youre gone
Strange thought, I know, but my skills still grow
The 80s, the 90s, 2000s, 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 Im 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, Im supersonic like J.J. Fad
Got crazy ass shit pullin out the bag
Dont forget the tartar sauce, yo, cause its sad
All these crap rappers, theyre rappin like crabs

I have carte blanche, the vagabond
Nas is the narcissist, my pockets are rotund
Im no killa, but compared to you, Im more reala
You aint a shot, a mobster, or a drug dealer

A slug peeler, youre not, mafioso, no
You aint got the cutthroat in ya, beginner
I aint 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, yall, this is one for the history books

Lets go! One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and theres still not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, thats 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 thats 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 aint sayin nothin

Im broader than Broadway, I was in project hallways
Dual tape recorder, lacin oratorials all day
Im just getting started on this beat, this is foreplay
And when this song finished, yall can sing along with this

By the way, I have a strong fetish for Christian Louboutin steppers
I hear Russian blondes the wettest
But anyway, I better pay homage to my fellas
And thats whats on my mind and the rhyme, whos next up?

Mike D, the man of mystery
History in the makin, and now were 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 theres still not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, thats 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

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