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Well how you feelin' |
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Ad Rock? Well |
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I'm feelin' well |
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Bonafide, qualified, with a story to tell |
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Well how feelin' |
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Mike D? Well |
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I feel all good |
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All day is how we play in the neighborhood |
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Well how you feelin' |
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MCA? Well |
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I feel right |
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I swing my words on the track 'cause the track sound tight |
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So if you're feelin' good and you're feelin' right |
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Uh, somebody step up and grab the mic |
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Well hello everybody and how you been? |
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It's Ad Rock rappin' on the microphone again |
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I got grace, class, style, finesse and debonaire |
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Murderize mother****ers 'cause |
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I just don't care |
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The MC whisperer, kinda like a trainer |
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I take sucker rappers, |
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I put 'em through a strainer |
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Like macaroni 'cause the shit sound cheesy |
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Watch how it's done boy, it looks easy |
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The nonstop, goin' off, kingpin, microphone boss |
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Do my own thing, you can't afford the cost |
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Of my fly styles that complete the turnstile' |
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Cause it's live and direct, and |
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I'm wiggidy wild |
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Now put you back on the floor, |
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I got total control |
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I flow like the water out your toilet bowls |
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Your style is cheap boy, just like the |
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DutchYou know you're not smokin' on the microphone much |
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There's a certain special talent that |
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I never lack |
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Ha-ha! And that's a fact' |
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Cause we shine like the chrome on a |
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CadillacYou better break a wishbone 'cause we never waxin' |
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Then we never that, and that is that |
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And we're the nonstop disco powerpack |
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Uh, that's right, we go all night |
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Who gonna be next to bless the mic? |
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Now this is the way we run it down |
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We're gettin' you high on the funky sound |
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This is the way we get it on |
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B-Boys in the house 'til the break of dawn |
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See I mix my style up like a cement mixer |
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Smooth'll fix ya like a rhyme elixir |
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Hey yo yo soundman, make |
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Mike's mic louder |
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Don't make me sound cheap like a box of douche powder |
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I'll max and relax, champagne, no ego |
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Don't go commando, don't know bandito |
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Je m'appelle |
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Michel, Paris nord |
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We were born in the chateau, we got it goin' on |
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Quincy's in the hot tub like it's '73 |
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Lookin' over his shoulder and he's lookin' at me |
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I'm up right in the face, towel around my waist |
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What's up with that watch inside the glass case? |
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I go to make my move, sneak out the place |
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Undetected, not leavin' a trace |
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Party's done, microphone track |
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Rhyme's been jumped, and head's been checked |
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I see one last profiterol, |
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I make my play |
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And pass the microphone to |
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MCANonstop, from the top |
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When you clock, then we rock |
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Them not kickin', them not stickin', we be makin' hip hop |
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So c'mon everybody get down |
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Now there's a spot check, get the deck count down' |
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Cause I'ma break it down for ya how we burn it down |
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Pound for pound, keep the basslines round |
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See you watchin', clockin', jockin' my sound |
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Before I got big |
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I grew up with hip hop |
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Still got mad love for a record called |
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Beat RockIt mean a lot spinnin' on my |
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WalkmanShout out to the |
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Afrika Bam' |
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And to the |
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X to the P the double- |
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O-N-YThe one |
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MC, who you can't deny |
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At least he threw me records that made heads fly |
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Sit down to write and the pen blazed fire |
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Construct a rhyme with specific intent |
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Flippin' all the braincells right to the pen |
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And then I put the root down when |
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I pull the mic |
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Words flowin' so cold, turn water to ice |
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Come through the wire such a break to tape |
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You put me in the mix like set up at the plate |
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And then they press it on wax, sell it in the store |
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The DJ's spin it, kick it out on the dancefloor |
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Comin' through the speaker to shake your eardrum |
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Braincells get with it make you hear where we're from |
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Ad Rock, huh, get it on |
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We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn |
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Now Mike D, huh, get it on |
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We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn |
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And MCA, yeah, get it on |
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We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn |
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Beastie Boys in the house, don't stop |
