Beastie Boys - Hot Sauce Committee Part Two Album Lyrics

[Ad-Rock:]
Yes, here we go again, give you more, nothing lesser
Back on the mic is the anti-depressor
Ad-Rock, no pressure, yes, we need this
The best is yet to come, and yes, believe this

[Mike D:]
Leggo my Eggo while I flex my ego
Step off my Seco, dressed up tuxedo
Sipping coffee, playing Keno in the casino
Want a lucky number, ask Mike Dino

[MCA:]
I burn the competition like a flamethrower
My rhymes age like wine as I get older
I'm getting bolder, competition is waning
I got the feeling and assume the lane and

[Hook:]
We got a party on the left, a party on the right
We gonna party for the motherf-cking right to fight
Make some noise if you're with me
Make some noise if you're with me

[Mike D:]
Armed insurrection, popular election
Get 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 whiffed
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

[Hook]

[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 in the shelf
And you can show it to your friends and say "that's my old self"

[Ad-Rock:]
Can't do me nothing, can't tell me nada
Don't quote 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

[Hook]

Well, how you feeling, Ad-Rock?
Well, I'm feeling well
Bonafide, qualified, with a story to tell

Well, how you feeling, Mike D?
Well, I feel all good
All day is how we play in the neighborhood

Well, how you feeling, MCA?
Well, I feel right
I speak my words on the track 'cause the track sounds tight

Well, if you're feeling good and you're feeling right
Uh, somebody step up and grab the mic

Hello everybody and how you been?
It's Ad-Rock rappin' on the microphone again
I got grace, class, style, finesse, and debonair
Murdalize 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
Nonstop, going off, kingpin, microphone boss
Do my own thing you, can't afford the cost
Of my style, take you through a turnstile
'Cause I'm live and direct, and I'm wicked and wild
Because I'm back on a roll, got total control
I flow like the water out your toiler bowl
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-ha, huh-ha, and that's a fact
'Cause we shine like the chrome on a Cadillac
You better break a wishbone 'cause we never wack
Said we're never that and that is that
And we're the nonstop disco powerpack
Uh, that's right, we go all night
Who gonna be next to bless the mic?

Now this it the way we run it down
We're gettin' you high on the funky sounds
This is the way we get it on
B-Boys in the house 'til the break of dawn

See, I mix my style up like a cement mixer
Smooth and fix ya, like a rhyme elixir
"Yo-yo, sound man, make Mike's mic louder"
Don't make me sound cheap like a box of douche powder
I max and relax, champagne mojito
Don't go commando, don't know bandito
Je m'appelle Michel Perignon
Me and Claude in the chateau, we got it going on
Quincy's in the hot tub like it's '73
Looking over his shoulder and he's looking at me
I'm all white in the face, towel around my waist
What's up with that watch inside that glass case?
I got to make my move, sneak out the place
Undetected, not leaving a trace
Party's done, microphone's wrecked
Wines been drunk and heads been checked
I see one last profiterole and make my play
And pass the microphone to MCA

Nonstop, on the top, and you clock, when we rock
Never fakin', no mistakin', we be makin' hip hop
So come on everybody, get down, yeah

Now it's a spot check, hit the deck, count down
'Cause I'ma break it down for you how we run it down
Pound for pound, keep the bass lines round
I seen you watchin', clockin', jockin' my sound
But, for real, I been glad I grew up in hip hop
Still got mad love for a record called "Beat Bop"
It meant a lot spinning on my Walkman
Shout out to the African Bam
And to the S to the P the double O-N-Y
The one MC who you can't deny
I'd listen to the records and they'd inspire
Sit down to write and the pen breathes fire
Construct a rhyme with specific intent
Flowin' from and brain cells right to my pen
And then I put the book down, grab ahold the mic
Words flowin' so cold, turn water to ice
Come through the wire, saturate the tape
You put me in the mix, nice it up with the plate
And then they press it on wax, sell it in the store
The DJ spin the record out on the dance floor
Comin' through the speaker to shake your eardrum
Brain cells get lit, then you hear where we're comin' from

Well, Ad-Rock (huh), get it on
We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn
Mike D (huh), get it on
We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn
MCA (a-yeah), get it on
We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn
Beastie Boys in the house, don't stop

Okay
You talk and talk and you just can't stop
A word comes to mind, it's "Crock"
What you say, is lackluster
Plus it seems you're trying to pull a filibuster
Yeah right yeah ok
Tell me something new to start the day
Said see you later when you coming home?
It's a gift it's a curse it's the telephone
Now let's start over with a nice clean slate
Please stop stressing with the hurry up wait
Heard you the first time that sounds great
But back up out my space okay
Yeah yeah right right - okay
Okay okay okay okay
Wrapped in pink ribbon so pretty
My name's Mike D from New York City
I guess it's all in the mind
But I fell behind
I thought it'd be smooth like a nice nutter butter
But I start to cringe every word that you utter
Yes you said you're a big deal
But money calm down for real
Got to control my mind
Got to slow down rewind

What is going on in my head?
Why's the sky gone red?
(What is going on in my head?
Why's the sky gone red?
What is going on in my head?
What is going on in my head?
Why's the sky gone red?
What is going on in my head?
Why's the sky gone red?
What is going on in my head?
What is going on in my head?)

Heard you the first time that sounds great now
Now, I don't give a f*ck who the hell you are
Please stop shouting in you cellular
I never asked to be part of your day
So please stop shouting in your phone ok?
You lie like a plain clothes cop
Take a minute take a look and take stock
Take a minute get your mind unlocked
Get open and I'll throw you the rock
What is going on in my head?
And why had the sky gone all red?
Be kind rewind or at least
Tell me what it is I did or just say
What should I say
Hmm, okay?
Yeah yeah right right - okay
Okay okay okay okay

Mic check, mic check

One (one), two (two), three (three)
Too many rappers, and there's still not enough MCs
It goes three (three), two (two), one (one)
MCA, Adrock, 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 MCing even after you're 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 MC 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
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 crab 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 cut-throat 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, ooh, when I miss
The real hip hop with which I persist
Like rum in mojitos
Bullets and banditos
Matzoh 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

One (one), two (two), three (three)
Too many rappers, and there's still not enough MCs
It goes three (three), two (two), one (one)
MCA, Adrock, 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-a Wolf Blitzer
Too many rappers to shake a stick at
I oughta charge a tax for every weak rap I had to listen to
Cause we be makin' stacks like Stax Records
My squad, we gotta pact -- we're never coming wack

To all you crab rappers and hackers
And circuit benders tweaked on Splenda
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 crotchspace?
Sniffin', buffin', huffin'
And mean muggin' with a Blimpie Bluffin
Back up off me, suckas, you ain't sayin' nothin'

I'm broader than Broadway, I was the project hallway
Dual tape recorder, lacin' oratorials all day
I'm just getting started on this beat, this is foreplay
And when this song's 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 MCs
It goes three (three), two (two), one (one)
MCA, Adrock, 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

Say it
To the heart of the matter, the mic I shatter
So cold on the mic I make your teeth chatter
While you climb the corporate ladder
To make your pockets fatter
We be flipping styles like pancake batter
Looking through your binso spying on me
But I'm running like a rhino on a drinking spree
You call yourself an MC but what's your truth?
Gotta let it loose inside the toll booth
Suckers sniffin' on socks chewin' on rocks
No complication want the combination to the lock
You wanna get inside well then you best knock knock
And when you get on you got to rock non-stop
Once it hits your mind what'cha gonna do?
Don't keep it inside you've got to

Say it, let it out, let it out
Scream it, gonna shout, gonna shout
Write it, put it out, put it out
Say it, gotta get it out, get it out

Watch out come again now sucker
Ya!
Well I can feel it my bloodstream, see it in their eyes
People lining up for their own demise
To help the man make weapons to monetize
Corporate violence we can't abide
You can keep your bottle service and your cabana
Bust your ass drunk like you slipped on a banana
Like nick nack patty wack you've got to let it out
From the mind to the mic to the word to a shout
Mind to the rhyme paper to the pen
The brand new dance called the David Rodigan
You sure you really wanna let me begin
You can't stop me rhymin' when I'm on I'm all in
Life is good and the it gets you
Stuff you thought it comes true
Once it hits your mind what'cha gonna do
Don't keep it inside you've got to

Say it, let it out, let it out
Scream it, gonna shout, gonna shout
Write it, gotta put it out, put it out
Say it, gotta get it out, get it out

[timpani sounds and dramatic music for 13 seconds]

[EXPLOSION]

Another, official, selection
From the Bill, Harper, collection!

"Hey Adam, it's Bill. Umm, thanks."

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 wont 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

This is it chall, some nasty shits for ya
Jump out of the window onto a parade balloon
My style is iller that the goblins in "Troll 2"
'Cause I'm the type of MC with the most pizazz
You're trying to borrow my book like I was Grandmaster Caz
Got rhymes about antihistamines and analgesics
Rhyme about expectorants, you no see it
Sueth sayer not a play rhyme sayer extreme
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'll 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

Long burn the fire the truth shall set you free
Long burn the fire the truth shall set you free
Long burn the fire the truth shall set you free
Long burn the fire the truth shall set you free

Now it's Adrock rappin' I'm back again
Like a Big Mac attack on your gut and that'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 at Kenny Roger's Roaster
See this rap thing is all about the bragadocia
I check my rear view MC"s 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 tailor '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

Long burn the fire the truth shall set you free
Long burn the fire the truth shall set you free
Long burn long burn long burn

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 not Tic Tac Toe or Operation
Just holding 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 Bassini
Bonafide household name like Sergio Tacchini
"Wasn't we here back on Raising Hell?"
Running wild like rats in the Taco Bell
On the mic I spit, the match it's lit
Mike Dino the Jewish Brad Pitt
Making music for librarians to burly jocks
The rapper Mike D know for my curly locks

Put this on a zip disk, send it to your lawyer,
File me under funky
Like sipping lemonade and Arnold Palmers
Big holiday parties like Dolly Partner
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 handle
Stop singing that song in the wrong key
"What you looking at?" Funky donkey
Funky donkey
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 bins 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
Funky donkey
Funky donkey

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

Well my name's Mike D but I got a new name
And that new name is Larry
Well my name is Adrock but I got a new name
And my new name is Harry
Well my name is MCA but I got a new name
And that new name is Gary
But our DJ's name has stayed the same
'Cause his new name is Bary

Now it's suffice to say that I'm nicer
Nice in the cut and yes I'm the slicer
Or should I say I'm the filleter
I hate the game I hate the player
But don't get discombobulated and upset
Because trust me we ain't even begun yet

[Chorus]
Mike D's got it locked and we rock it nonstop
Adrock's got it locked and we rock it nonstop
MCA's got it locked and we rock it nonstop
And you don't stop the body rock

Watch me make it pop now I make it sizzle
As I flip your omelet up at the b bizzle
I'm like multo Mario they call me Tasty D
Your quick fire challenge freak the huiki
You can call me chef 'cause it's bonafide
Knife skills on the block that I'm taking world wide

[Chorus]

I've got bass lines bubbling up on out of my hands
Don't want to never play nothin' that sounds too bland
Shazam! Sprinkle on some magic dust
You've got a bagel in your pants and that's a must
Plus I cuss and I grab my nuts
Got a six finger ring that says "Excuse our dust"

[Chorus]

Sometimes things just don't connect

Doin' it big
I'm the lyrical mathematical, genius
Splashin' like lime juice
You never seen this
Internationally known
The longest the leanest
Shout out the one Jose Nenis
Hit 'em with the rhyme
And the rhyme don't stop
Yeah we got the beat
And the beat go drop
The ping pong paddle
Make the batter go pop
Now take a look around this spot
I'm seeing every detail
Like an over-cranked camera
Sleestacks in the back say "Damn ya!"
You say "I can't", and "I say "Why can't you""
Chopping the track in the - in the land of...

Yo 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
Yo 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 D.J. not Dr. Brassiere
Dropping bombs like a bombardier
Cocao he's a chocolatiere
We're giving y'all a little 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 like a Mormon, we 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
Yo 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

Lee Majors come again
Like the sixteen billion dollar man
Ooh 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 round house show can't continue
At the roller rink down in Virginia
Oh did I spill the beans
I see your grandpa in Apple Bottom jeans
A Von Dutch cap Ugg boots to match
Once the word gets out you can't take it back
I'm a pause tape competition expert winner
Just a doggone long armed tall yarn spinner
You want to 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
Yo 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

We can make it happen

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

On and on to the break of dawn
On and on to the break of dawn
On and on to the break of dawn
On and on to the break of dawn

Now let me introduce myself I'm Adrock
No matter what you order well I got it in stock
The dooty rhyme thing well we got it on lock
Top off the look with the argyle sock
Take it from me now I'm gonna give it all I got
I take a licking still tick tick toc
But smoked salmon ain't old school lox
So go to Peter Brady and buy Greg's sox
It's Mike on the mic and I'm known to please
Stinky nasty like the head cheese
Caps gowns honorary degrees
Rhymes fresh pressed like '83 Lees

You can't stop you got to keep on
Keep keep keep keep keep on
You can't stop you got to keep on

I mean that's all I got, except I've just got...
Even Michael Diamond him never learn
Atop him head him have a curly perm
Tissue up my nose and my dick's in a cast
I don't wanna talk about it past is past
All you crusty punks that are into Crass
Go and take a shower and wash that ass
We rock non stop here in New York City
Sweet on the mic looking so damn pretty
Served by me well it must feel shitty
Weird thing to say here it goes tough titty
I've got my rhymes in a pitcher and it's time to pour
I'm at the tee and I'm screaming "Fore!"
Hit into your party as I declare war
Roberta Peterson's got a spine like a dinosaur

You can't stop you got to keep on
Keep keep keep keep keep on
You can't stop you got to keep on
Keep keep keep keep keep on
You can't stop you got to keep on
On and on to the break of dawn

Brass monkey you're the funky (gonna learn to dance)
Brass monkey you're the funky (gonna learn to dance)
Brass monkey you're the funky (gonna learn to dance)
Brass monkey you're the funky (gonna learn to dance like)

Yeah we're gonna get to that

Aw shit
Whoa what?
And
Front front back back
Sucker grab a snack pack
I I got got
Young Holt wack wack
Get get down down
Grade A ground round
Sound that you're lovin'
Givin' givin' us a pound pound
Full full force force
Lisa Lisa Cult Jam
All all night night
Listening to dope man
You could you could say say
Yes we're looking pretty pretty
Money money making making
New York City