The New Style

And on the cool check in Center stage on the mic And we puttin' it on wax It's the new style Four and three and two and one (what up?) And when I'm on the mic, the suckers run (word) Down with Ad-Rock and Mike D and you ain't And I got more juice than Picasso got paint Got rhymes that are rough and rhymes that are slick I'm not surprised you're on my dick (Mike D) B-E-A-S-T-I-E, what up, Mike D? Aw yeah, that's me I got franks and pork and beans Always bust the new routines I get it, I got it, I know it's good The rhymes I write, you wish you would I'm never in training, my voice is not straining People always biting and I'm sick of complaining So I went into the locker room during classes Went into your locker and I smashed your glasses You're from Secaucus, I'm from Manhattan You're jealous of me because your girlfriend is cattin' There it is, kick it! Father to many, married to none And in case you're unaware, I carry a gun (word) Stepped into the party, the place was overpacked 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 because I'm fully strapped I got money in the bank, I can still get high That's why your girlfriend thinks that I'm so fly I've 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, I'd be Jimmy Page The girlies I like are underage (shh, check it!) Girls with boyfriends are the kinds I like I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike My father, he's jealous 'cause I'm making that green (what up?) Got a list of girlies' numbers from the places I've been There it is, kick it! You wanna know why? Because I'm- October 31st, that is my date of birth I got to the party, you know what I did? The Smurf Taxin' all the females from coast to coast And when I get my fill, I'm 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 it's the best But I fly to Fat Burger when (when he's) I'm way out west (check it) K-I-N-G A-D-whammy! All the fine ladies, they're on my jammy Went to the prom, wore the fly blue rental Got six girlies in my Lincoln Continental I met a girl at the party, and she started to flirt I told her some rhymes and she pulled up her skirt (check it) Spent some bank, got a high-powered jumbo Rolled up the wooly (what he do?) And I watched Colombo Let me clear my throat Kick it over here, baby, pop And let all the fly skimmies feel the beat Mmm, drop! Coolin' on the corner on a hot summer day Just me and my posse and MCA A lot of beer, a lot of girls and a lot of cursin' 22 automatic on my person Got my hand in my pocket and my finger's on the trigger My posse's gettin' big and my posse's 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 I'm the King of the Ave, and I'm the king of the block Well, I'm MCA, and I'm the King Ad-Rock Well, I'm Mike D, I got all the fly juice On the checkin' at the party on the forty deuce Walkin' down the block with the fresh fly threads Beastie Boys fly the biggest heads Brooklyn!