The New Style

And on the cool check in
Center stage on the mic
And we're 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
Down with Adrock 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

B-E-A-S-T-I-E  (What up Mike D?)
Ah 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
Stepped into the party
The place was overpacked
Saw the kid that dissed my home and shot him in the back
Man, I had to get a beeper cause my phone is tapped
You better keep your mouth shut cause 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

If I played guitar I'd be Jimmy Page
The girlies I like are underage
Girls with boyfriends are the kind I like
I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike
My father, he's jealous cause I'm making that green
I've got a list of girlies' numbers from the places I 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
Taxing all females from coast to coast
And when I get my fill, I'm chilly most
We ragtag 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'm fly at Fatburger when I'm way out west

K-I-N-G-A-D whammy
All the fly 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 a wooly and I watched Columbo

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 cursing
Twenty-two 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, 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 Adrock
Well, I'm Mike D, I got all the fly juice
On the checkin' at the party on the Forty Deuce
Walking down the block with the fresh fly threads
Beastie Boys fly the biggest heads