Hot Sauce Committee Part Two (2011)

 

• Make Some Noise
• Nonstop Disco Powerpack
• Ok
• Too Many Rappers (New Reactionaries Version)
• Say It
• The Bill Harper Collection
• Don't Play No Game That I Can't Win
• Long Burn The Fire
• Funky Donkey
• The Larry Routine
• Tadlock's Glasses
• Lee Majors Come Again
• Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament (Instrumental)
• Here's A Little Somethin' For Ya
• Crazy Ass Shit
• The Lisa Lisa / Full Force Routine
• Pop Your Balloon (Deluxe Edition Bonus Track)
• B-Boys In The Cut (Deluxe Edition Bonus Track)
• Make Some Noise (Passion Pit Remix) (Pre-Order Bonus Track)
• Make Some Noise (Cornelius Remix) (Japan Bonus Track)

Make Some Noise lyrics - Beastie Boys

Yeah, get up

Yeah

Uh

Yes, here we go again, give you more, nothing lesser

Back on the mic, it's the anti-depressor

Ad-Rock. No pressure. Yes, we need this

The best is yet to come and, yes, believe this

Leggo my Eggo while I flex my ego

Sip on Prosecco, dressed up tuxedo

Sipping coffee, playing Keno in the casino

Want a lucky number? Ask Mike Dino

I burn the competition like a flamethrower

My rhymes, they age like wine as I get older

I'm getting bolder, competition is wanin'

I got the ball and I see the lane and

We got a party on the left, a party on the right

We gotta party for the motherfucking right to fight

Make some noise if you're with me

You gotta make some noise if you're with me

Crazy, crazy, crazy

Armed insurrection, popular election

Get paid every year like tax collection

Hear my perfection, rotary connection

Taking MCs down by lethal rap injection

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 riffing

And when I catch MCs, it's time for wing clipping

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 fess, well, that's wrong

We got a

We got a party on the left, a party on the right

We gotta party for the motherfucking right to fight

Make some noise if you're with me

You gotta make some noise if you're with me

Crazy, crazy, crazy

The break is crazy

Crazy-crazy

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 on the shelf

And you can show it to your friends and say, "That's my old self"

Can't do me nothing, can't tell me nada

Don't bug me now because I'm doing the lambada (bada!)

The forbidden dance (wha!), here's my chance

To make romance in my B-boy stance

Parlay romancing into financing

Opened up a restaurant with Ted Danson

The roaches check in, but they never check out

I set the record straight, no doubt

We got a

We got a party on the left, a party on the right

We gotta party for the motherfucking right to fight

Make some noise if you're with me

You gotta make some noise if you're with me

Nonstop Disco Powerpack lyrics - Beastie Boys

How you feeling, Ad-Rock?

Well, I'm feeling well

Bona fide, qualified, with a story to tell

How you feeling, Mike D?

Well, I feel all good

All day it's how we play in the neighborhood

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

Now hello everybody and how you been?

It's Ad-Rock rappin' on the microphone again

I got grace, class, style, finesse, and debonair

Murdalize motherfuckers 'cause I just don't care

The MC 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

The non-stop, goin' 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 toilet 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 is the way we run it down

We're gettin' you high on the funky sound

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

I said, "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 Pérignon

Me and Claude in the chateau and 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 go to make my move, sneak out of the place

Undetected, not leaving a trace

Party's done, microphone's wrecked

Wine's 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 c'mon everybody get down... yeah)

Now there's a spot check, hit the deck count down

'Cause I'm 'a 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'm real 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 the brain cells, right through the pen

And then I put the book down, grab a hold 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 speakers 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

Beatsie Boys in the house don't stop

Ok lyrics - Beastie Boys

OK!

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?"

When you comin' 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. OK?

(Yeah-yeah, right-right) OK

OK

OK

OK

OK

Wrapped in pink ribbon, so pretty

My name's Mike D from New York City

I guess it's all in the mind

What I leave behind

Thought you'd be smooth like a nice Nutter Butter

But I start to cringe, every word that you utter

Yes, you said you are 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?

Now I don't give a fuck who the hell you are

Please stop shouting in your cellular

I never asked to be part of your day

So please stop shouting in your phone. OK?

You lie like a plainclothes 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's going on in my head?

And why has the sky gone all red?

Be kind, rewind

At least tell me what it is I did

Or just say what should I say

Hmm... OK?

(Yeah-yeah, right-right) OK

OK

OK

OK

OK

Too Many Rappers (New Reactionaries Version) lyrics - Beastie Boys (feat. Nas)

[Nas:]

Mic check, mic check

[Nas (Beastie Boys):]

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

[MCA:]

Like a Nexus-6, comin' home to roost

Handheld 58 when it's time to get loose

Don't need the ear goggles, just put me through the speakers

Like a scientist with tubes and beakers

Have MCs over my house and fix 'em brunch

But you rappers? We goin' out, goin' dutch

So pass me the sword, I'll start swingin'

Just randomly chopping on a crazy ass mission

[Ad-Rock:]

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

[Nas:]

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

[Mike D:]

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

[Nas (Beastie Boys):]

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

[MCA:]

'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 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

[Ad-Rock:]

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'

[Nas:]

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:]

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

[Nas (Beastie Boys):]

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 lyrics - Beastie Boys

To the heart of the matter, the mic I shatter

So cold on the mic, I make your teeth chatter

You climb the corporate ladder

To make your pockets fatter

We be flipping styles like pancake batter

Looking through your binos, spying on me

I'm running like a rhino on a drinking spree

Call yourself an MC, but what's your truth?

You gotta let it loose inside the toll booth

Suckers sniffin' on socks, chewin' on rocks

My competition 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 nonstop

Once it hits your mind, what you 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

Watch out, come again now, sucker

Ya

Well, I can feel it in 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 knick-knack, patty whack, you've got to let it out

From the mind to the mic, to the word to a shout

Ad-Rock

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 then it gets you

Stuff you thought, it comes true

Once it hits your mind, what you 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

Watch out, come again now, sucker

Watch out, come again now, sucker (uh, suckers)

Watch out, come again now, sucker

Watch out, come again now, sucker (uh, suckers)

The Bill Harper Collection lyrics - Beastie Boys

Another official selection from the Bill Harper collection

Hey, Adam. It's Bill. Um, thanks

Don't Play No Game That I Can't Win lyrics - Beastie Boys (feat. Santigold)

Uh, Beastie Boys, Santigold

Let's do this, y'all

Santigold

Let's go!

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 you wanna get back when you had your shine

But you run the same thing every time when you rhyme

Can't stop, won't 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

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 you're caught by the fear setting in

Choked on the thought that you done it again

I 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

What you, what you 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

Long Burn The Fire lyrics - Beastie Boys

This is it y'all, some nasty shits for ya

Bring it

Jump out the window onto a parade balloon

My style is iller than the goblins in "Troll 2"

'Cause I'm the type of MC with the most pizzazz

You're stealing my book like I was Grandmaster Caz

Got rhymes about antihistamines and analgesics

Rhyme about expectorants, y'all don't see it

Soothsayer, not a player, rhymesayer extreme

Burn like fire when I step on the scene

I got shark's teeth so I can bite your head

I got tiger's claws that'll scratch you dead

I 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, sword, 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 Ad-Rock 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 Rogers Roaster

See this rap thing is all about the braggadocio

I check my rear view, MCs ain't gettin' closer

People think I'm slow 'cause I'm just I'm under-challenged

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 rappin' 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, 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"

Ad-Rock's in the bath filled with chocolate fondue

Straight up nuts like my name is Mike Bazzini

Bonafide household name like Sergio Tacchini

"Wasn't we here back on Raising Hell?"

Or 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, known for my curly locks

Funky Donkey lyrics - Beastie Boys

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 Padner

Sometimes I get Pad Thai as a starter

My other order, Pad See Yew, 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-I-I-I-I go woooo-ooo 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 is booming make the dancehall bubble

Letting loose, up in the honkey tonk

With the shoopa doopa doo bedonk

Well, I was swimming in the water of the ocean

Like Dr. Jekyll 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

The Larry Routine lyrics - Beastie Boys

Oh, this routine dates way back

A lot of people may remember this routine, but it's evolved

Now, here from the summer before last:

Well my name's Mike D and I got a new name and that new name is "Larry"!

Well my name is Adrock and I got a new name and that new name is "Harry"!

Well my name is MCA and I got a new name and that new name is "Gary"!

Well, the DJ's name. It stays the same, 'cause his new name is "Barry"!

Tadlock's Glasses lyrics - Beastie Boys

New York City

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

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 at the b bizzle

I'm like Molto Mario, they call me Tasty D

Your quick fire challenge, freak the hijiki

You can call me chef 'cause it's bona fide

Knife skills on the block that I'm taking worldwide

Mike D got it locked and we rock it nonstop

Adrock got it locked and we rock it nonstop

MCA got it locked and we rock it nonstop

And then you don't stop, the body rock

I've got bass lines bubbling up on out of my hands

Don't want to never play nothin' that sounds too bland

Shazam! I 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"

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

Sometimes things just don't connect

Lee Majors Come Again lyrics - Beastie Boys

Fuck! Goddammit, this thing

Alright, wait, hold on, Adam

This thing keeps fallin' off

Woo! Doin' it big! Ah-ah!

I'm like the lyrical, mathematical genius

Splashing like lime juice, you've never seen this

Internationally known, the longest, the leanest

Shout-out to one José Nenis

I hit 'em with the rhyme and the rhyme don't stop

We got the beat and the beat go drop

The ping pong paddle make the battle go pop

Now take a look around this spot

I'm seeing every detail like an over-cranked camera

Sleestaks in the back say 'Damn ya'

You say 'I can't' and I say 'Why can't ya?'

Chopping the track in the—in the land of

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

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

There's a bird in here

That's my DJ, not Doctor Brassiere

Dropping bombs like a bombardier

Like cacao, it's a chocolatier

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—'cause like a Mormon, I'm 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

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

Ruff!

Uh, Lee Majors come again

Like the Six Dil- Million-Dollar Man

Woo! 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, roundhouse, 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

Von Dutch cap, Ugg boots to match

The word gets out, you can't take it back

I'm just a pause tape competition expert winner

Just a doggone, long-armed, tall yarn spinner

You want a 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

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

Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament lyrics - Beastie Boys

We can make it happen

Here's A Little Somethin' For Ya lyrics - Beastie Boys

Yes, yes, yes

Ill out the gate, I set it off

I suppose you're exposed, so get lost

You break off, cut all connections

Join the sucker emcee 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

Now here's a little something for ya!

I'm-a drive a little and stall ya

Don't lose your balance and fall ya

And if you're feelin' chilly, I'mma 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

Just speak my conscience, speak my mind

Don't trip and flip, and then I stop to find

Queens up front, Brooklyn's in the back

Flack from flak guns, riot squads smokin' crack

The odds are stacked, for those who lack

Been a lucky motherfucker 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 to André 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 craze

Dr. Carlton Brassiere, a.k.a. Joyce

Dr. Bombay is the ladies choice

Step on stage to the smoke from dry ice

Every time I bring it twice as noice

Now ease up brethren, take an Excedrin

Only name check to rhyme is Tippi Hedren

I'm undefined, I'm gettin' much finer

Steady loungin' 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

Crazy Ass Shit lyrics - Beastie Boys

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 doody 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-tock

Smoked salmon, ain't old-school lox

I go to Peter Brady and I 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

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 nonstop 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 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

You can't stop, you got to 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

Brass monkey, you're the funky

Brass monkey, you're the funky

Brass monkey, you're the funky monkey

The Lisa Lisa / Full Force Routine lyrics - Beastie Boys

Aw, shit

Whoa, what?

Front (front), back (back)

Sucker grab a snack (snack) pack

I (I) got (got)

Young-Holt wack (wack)

Get (get) down (down)

Grade a ground round (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

Pop Your Balloon lyrics - Beastie Boys

Rickity-rickity-rickity-rickity-wow!

I got the golden style

You people go wild when I bless this crowd

Ooh to the ah, to the ooh to the eee

You want to know who funky and I said 'Je suis'

Well, I give you a wedgie, I give you a noogie

Put my foot up your ass, electric boogie

Break dancing at your door on a pile of shit

Set the bag on fire for the fuck of it

I bust into your radio station, chuck a smoke bomb

Put on my gas mask and put my tape on

By the time you figure out what went wrong

Light up my jet pack and I'm gone

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

I grab my mic and people lose their minds

And twist their hands in the air and bop their heads in time

Rockin', shoutin' (do your dance, Mike)

Because I'm built for speed like a Tour de France bike

I got the tape spinnin' in the echoplex

I keep the competition sealed under a hex

And if you waste my time then I get vexed

I'm eatin' MCs up by the dozen for breakfast

Like Franz Harary, I'm a magic man

Films in the can, cat's in the bag, carpet is shag

You can try to take the boast, but you can't take the brag

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

We come together upon the mic and rock it

We got styles ain't none of y'all can top it

We in the cut and, yes, we in the pocket

We're getting down and that's right, that's right, that's right, that's right

Yo, because I'm down in the basement mixin' up ink

I'm on the edge and I'm on the brink

You've got the press, and I've got the plates

We pressin' twenties by the crate

Yes, we make it happen with the rappin'

With the crunch with the Cap'n and the Boo Berry

With Count Chocula, the sound that you love

We've been getting fly with the highest above

I'm on, the one, the battle tank in Tron

You're too far gone

Argh! Another pawn

Guide searching, what channel is he on?

'Cause there ain't no sunshine when Mike D's gone

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Pop your balloon, pop-pop your balloon

Yo, the sound man almost lost his soup on that one

He's still contemplating it though

Oh-oh, look out!

B-Boys In The Cut lyrics - Beastie Boys

To the, to the, to the people up top!

Bam! God damn!

Holy mackerel, pulling suckers' cards out the satchel

You can sleep tonight, it's OK

B Boys in the cut and we're here to stay

Vibration, sensation

Chatter up on the mic and it's an incantation

Revelation, elation

A little patience with the tribulations

Heed my flow, I got more in store

Rhymes are not just for breakfast any more

Always on vacation, like Clark and Rusty

Don't wanna make the beer fest, trust me

Boys in the cut, cu-cut

And we here, here, here to stay

Your wack style is beyond a pale

Heel up, wheel up, to the one Judge Smails

Come at me with rain, I'm coming back with hail

My broad sword will cut through your chain mail

Back up, Mike

Well, Ad-Rock, one of the greatest of all time, no disrespect

I gotta go for mine

Big Mike D, up here spitting lead paint

Bringing it back, begin da oh-ah-oh-ah

A-D-R-O-C-K spells relief

There's holes in my story like Leon Spinks' teeth

Good grief, the middle name's Keefe

I keep a microphone in a little, weird sheath

Boys in the cut, cu-cut

And we here, here, here to stay

I'm like Oscar the Grouch, trashy

Rockin' Derelicte, flashy

I keep it raw y'all

Just imagine the 42nd Street C train bathroom

I sizzle on the mic like a battered fried fish

Pundits in the house say, "Whoop!" That's rich!

This is the type of shit that's gonna scratch that itch

Now I'm-a set it off from up inside this bitch

I see you're looking at me and thinking 'What him do?'

Well, I rap upon this mic, Mike D, Sweet Lou

Also known as Pretty Lou, a-k-a Pretty Mike

I switch up my name pretty much how I like

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 is Mike D, and I gotta new name, and that new name is "Larry"!

Well, my name is Ad-Rock, and then I gotta new name, and my new name is "Harry"!

Well, my name is MCA, but I gotta new name, and that new name is "Gary"!

Well, our DJ's name has stayed the same, 'cause his new name is "Barry"!

Make Some Noise (Passion Pit Remix) lyrics - Beastie Boys

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

Make Some Noise (Cornelius Remix) lyrics - Beastie Boys

Yeah... get up!

Yeah, uh

And then

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

Leggo my Eggo while I flex my ego

Sip on Prosecco, dressed up tuxedo

Sipping coffee playing Keno, in the casino

Want a lucky number? Ask Mike Dino

Yo I burn the competition like a flame thrower

My rhymes. They age like wine as I get older

I'm getting bolder, competition is waning

I got the feeling, assume the lane and

Make some noise if you're with me

Make some noise if you're with me

Armed insurrection, popular election

Get paid every year like tax collection

Hear my perfection, rotary connection

Taking MCs down by lethal rap injection

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 whiffing

When I catch you MCs it's time for wing-clipping

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 then that's wrong

Make some noise if you're with me

Make some noise if you're with me

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

Then you can show it to your friends and say, "That's my old self."

Can't do me nutting, 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

Parlayed romancing, into financing

Opened up a restaurant with Ted Danson

The roaches check in, but they never check out

I set the record straight, no doubt

Make some noise if you're with me

Make some noise if you're with me

Make some noise if you're with me

Make some noise if you're with me