People How You Doing There's A New Day Dawning
For The Earth Mother It's A Brand New Morning
For Such A Long While There's Been Such A Longing
But Now The Sun Is Shining Let's Roll Back The Awning
This Is A Type Of Kinda Like A Formal Dedication
Giving Out A Shout For Much Inspiration
All I Ever Really Want To Do Is Get Nice
Get Loose And Goof My Little Slice Of Life
Sendin' Out Love To All Corners Of The Land
I Jump Up On The Stage And Take The Mic
In My Hand Not Playin' The Roll Just Being Who I Am
And If You Try To Dis Me I Couldn't Give A Damn
'Cause I'm Rockin'
Bass From The Back Of My Car Feels Soothing
Eight Bazookas Is What I'm Using
I'm Mike D And It's Been Proven
I Love It When I See The Party People Get Movin'
Strapped On The Ear Goggles And What Did I See
But The Music Brought The People Into Harmony
Beastie Boys - Check Your Head Album Lyrics
Beastie Boys - Check Your Head Lyrics
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, EDWARD CHAPLIN, MARIO CALDATO JR., MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, SCHUBERT MUSIC PUBLISHING INC.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, SCHUBERT MUSIC PUBLISHING INC.
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MARK RAMOS NISHITA, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Pass The Mic
If you can feel what I'm feeling then it's a musical masterpiece
Hear what I'm dealing with then that's cool at least
What's running through my mind comes through in my walk
True feelings are shown from the way that I talk and this is me, y'all
An M.C., y'all my name is M.C.A. and I still do what I please
And now I'd like to introduce (what's up?)
I'll pass the mic to D for a fistful of truth
The name is D, y'all, and I don't play
And I can rock a block party 'till your hair turns grey
(So, what you sayin'?) I explode on site
I'm like Jimmy Walker, I'm (dy-no-mite!)
And now I'd like to pass the mic
To Adrock, c'mon and do anything you like
I'm the A-D-R-O-C-K, in the place with the bass, I'm going all the way
I can't stop y'all, tock-tick, y'all
And if you think that you're slick you'll catch a brick y'all
'Cause I'ma turn it in and I'ma turn it out
But for now I've got to pass the mic to Yauch
Well, on and on and on and on
I can't stop, y'all, 'till' the early morn'
So rock-rock, y'all, tick-tock y'all, to the beat, y'all
To the beat, y'all, c'mon and rock, y'all
I give thanks for inspiration, it guides my mind along the way
A lot of people get jealous, they're talking about me
But that's just 'cause they haven't got a thing to say
Well, everybody rapping like it's a commercial
Actin' like life is a big commercial
So this is what I've got to say to you all
Be true to yourself and you will never fall
And now I'd like to pass the mic to the A
(So what's your name, yauch?) my name is M.C.A
I've been coming to where I am from the get-go
Find that I can groove with the beat when I let go
So put your worries on hold
Get up and groove with the rhythm in your soul
And now I'd like to pass the mic
To my brother Adrock, c'mon and shine like a light
Yes, yes, y'all and yes, yes, y'all
I'm always on time, nevertheless, y'all
And that's right, y'all
I shed light, y'all
I've got no time in my life to get uptight, y'all
So what you gonna say that I don't know already?
I'm like Clyde and I'm rockin' steady
But time flies when you're having fun, so Mike D (that's me!)
C'mon and get some
M-I-K-E to the D
You come and see me and you pay your fee
Do what I do professionally
To tell the truth I am exactly what I want to be
Now Adrock (huh?) and M.C.A (yeah?)
Let's rock this joint in the old school way
Well, I'm on 'till the crack of dawn
Mowing down M.C.'s like I'm mowing the lawn
I go off like nothing can phase me
You think we'll ever meet Stevie?
(One of these days, D!)
But I can stand my ground and I am down
To wax an M.C who acts like a clown
But for now, I'd like to ask you how
You like the feel of the bass in your face in the crowd?
Hear what I'm dealing with then that's cool at least
What's running through my mind comes through in my walk
True feelings are shown from the way that I talk and this is me, y'all
An M.C., y'all my name is M.C.A. and I still do what I please
And now I'd like to introduce (what's up?)
I'll pass the mic to D for a fistful of truth
The name is D, y'all, and I don't play
And I can rock a block party 'till your hair turns grey
(So, what you sayin'?) I explode on site
I'm like Jimmy Walker, I'm (dy-no-mite!)
And now I'd like to pass the mic
To Adrock, c'mon and do anything you like
I'm the A-D-R-O-C-K, in the place with the bass, I'm going all the way
I can't stop y'all, tock-tick, y'all
And if you think that you're slick you'll catch a brick y'all
'Cause I'ma turn it in and I'ma turn it out
But for now I've got to pass the mic to Yauch
Well, on and on and on and on
I can't stop, y'all, 'till' the early morn'
So rock-rock, y'all, tick-tock y'all, to the beat, y'all
To the beat, y'all, c'mon and rock, y'all
I give thanks for inspiration, it guides my mind along the way
A lot of people get jealous, they're talking about me
But that's just 'cause they haven't got a thing to say
Well, everybody rapping like it's a commercial
Actin' like life is a big commercial
So this is what I've got to say to you all
Be true to yourself and you will never fall
And now I'd like to pass the mic to the A
(So what's your name, yauch?) my name is M.C.A
I've been coming to where I am from the get-go
Find that I can groove with the beat when I let go
So put your worries on hold
Get up and groove with the rhythm in your soul
And now I'd like to pass the mic
To my brother Adrock, c'mon and shine like a light
Yes, yes, y'all and yes, yes, y'all
I'm always on time, nevertheless, y'all
And that's right, y'all
I shed light, y'all
I've got no time in my life to get uptight, y'all
So what you gonna say that I don't know already?
I'm like Clyde and I'm rockin' steady
But time flies when you're having fun, so Mike D (that's me!)
C'mon and get some
M-I-K-E to the D
You come and see me and you pay your fee
Do what I do professionally
To tell the truth I am exactly what I want to be
Now Adrock (huh?) and M.C.A (yeah?)
Let's rock this joint in the old school way
Well, I'm on 'till the crack of dawn
Mowing down M.C.'s like I'm mowing the lawn
I go off like nothing can phase me
You think we'll ever meet Stevie?
(One of these days, D!)
But I can stand my ground and I am down
To wax an M.C who acts like a clown
But for now, I'd like to ask you how
You like the feel of the bass in your face in the crowd?
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MARIO CALDATO JR., MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND, M. NISHITA
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Gratitude
Good times gone and you missed them
What's gone wrong in your system
Things they bounce just like a spalding
What'd you think did you miss your calling
It's so free this kind of feeling
It's like life it's so appealing
When you've got so much to say
It's called gratitude, and rhat's right
Good times gone but you feed it
Hate's grown strong you feel you need it
Just one thing do you know
What you think that the world owes you
What's gonna set you free
Look inside and you'll see
When you've got so much to say
It's called gratitude, and that's right
What's gone wrong in your system
Things they bounce just like a spalding
What'd you think did you miss your calling
It's so free this kind of feeling
It's like life it's so appealing
When you've got so much to say
It's called gratitude, and rhat's right
Good times gone but you feed it
Hate's grown strong you feel you need it
Just one thing do you know
What you think that the world owes you
What's gonna set you free
Look inside and you'll see
When you've got so much to say
It's called gratitude, and that's right
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND, TOM CUSHMAN
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer: THOMAS CHARGE BURKE, LAWRENCE JAMES DIAMOND, MICHAEL JAMES ANDREW EVANS, THOMAS WILLIAM PAYNE RHOADES
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Finger Lickin Good
It's finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Well, Mike d, what's up?
Yo, Yauch what's up?
Come on, Mike, let's tear it up
Hear no evil, see no evil, talkin' no bullshit
So many damn people are so damn full of it
Keyboard Money Mark, you know he ain't havin' it
Just give him some wood and he'll build you a cabinet
I'm convinced that Vince is rippin' me off
I think it's his girdle that's tippin' me off
Well, Mike D's out back and he's growin' onions
I've got bigger buns than my man Paul Bunyan's
I've been going nuts gettin' all cooped-up
Fully hermitizing but now I'm getting souped-up
It's time to turn the page to a brand new chapter
Settin' my sights and you know what I'm after
I'll be in the paper the news with Ernie Ernesto
They'll even print my recipe for pasta with pesto
Now here's another special of the day
You see, I've got more spice than the frugal gourmet
Finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Well, Mike D, what you got for me?
Show these good people what it means to be D
Well they call me Mike D with the mad-man style
I put the mic up to my lips and I can scream for a while
Created a sound at which many were shocked at
I've got a million ideas that I ain't even rocked yet
I've got the light bulb flashing at the top of my head
Never wake up on the wrong side of the bed
You're an idea man, not a yes-man
With a point to make, you're bound to take a stand
Cause I'm Pete the Puma, Minnie the Moocher
Got every type of flavor or style that will suit 'ya
You know the bass is real fat, because it's gotta' be like that
A snare on the funky tin, and a taste of the high-hat
Finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', it's finger-lickin' good, y'all
A-finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Ey yo, Yauch what up?
Mike D, what's up?
Come on Yauch, let's tear it up
Well, I could catch a groove like a flash in the dark
I grab a hold of your attention like a thief in the park
'Cause I can flip a rhyme off the tip of my tongue
Yeah, I be switching up the rhythm like the rhyme's a piece of chewing gum
Now I might chew, but I don't bite
My ideas are mine when I begin to write
In my sleep I'll be thinking 'bout beats and
Getting on the mic and busting some treats and
Sport the crazy funky threads that you've never even seen before
What I'm lackin' from the mackin' I can find at the thrift store
I won't scuff nor scuffle, just grin as they walk by
Take time to rhyme for a girl I hear talk fly
Down some papaya, down with the revolution
Always wear my goggles, 'cause there's so much pollution
I can do the Freak, the Patty Duke, and the Spank
Gotta free the funky fish from the funky fish tanks
I'll sell my house, sell my car, and I'll sell all my stuff
"I'm going back to New York City, I do believe I've had enough"
We're gonna' be out of her in a minute
So this one goes out to my man, Mario C
My brother Adrock, cuttin' it up on the turntable
Yeah, finger lickin' good, y'all
DJ Hurricane is finger lickin' good, y'all
Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Well, Mike d, what's up?
Yo, Yauch what's up?
Come on, Mike, let's tear it up
Hear no evil, see no evil, talkin' no bullshit
So many damn people are so damn full of it
Keyboard Money Mark, you know he ain't havin' it
Just give him some wood and he'll build you a cabinet
I'm convinced that Vince is rippin' me off
I think it's his girdle that's tippin' me off
Well, Mike D's out back and he's growin' onions
I've got bigger buns than my man Paul Bunyan's
I've been going nuts gettin' all cooped-up
Fully hermitizing but now I'm getting souped-up
It's time to turn the page to a brand new chapter
Settin' my sights and you know what I'm after
I'll be in the paper the news with Ernie Ernesto
They'll even print my recipe for pasta with pesto
Now here's another special of the day
You see, I've got more spice than the frugal gourmet
Finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Well, Mike D, what you got for me?
Show these good people what it means to be D
Well they call me Mike D with the mad-man style
I put the mic up to my lips and I can scream for a while
Created a sound at which many were shocked at
I've got a million ideas that I ain't even rocked yet
I've got the light bulb flashing at the top of my head
Never wake up on the wrong side of the bed
You're an idea man, not a yes-man
With a point to make, you're bound to take a stand
Cause I'm Pete the Puma, Minnie the Moocher
Got every type of flavor or style that will suit 'ya
You know the bass is real fat, because it's gotta' be like that
A snare on the funky tin, and a taste of the high-hat
Finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Finger lickin', a-finger-lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', it's finger-lickin' good, y'all
A-finger lickin', finger-lickin' good, y'all
Ey yo, Yauch what up?
Mike D, what's up?
Come on Yauch, let's tear it up
Well, I could catch a groove like a flash in the dark
I grab a hold of your attention like a thief in the park
'Cause I can flip a rhyme off the tip of my tongue
Yeah, I be switching up the rhythm like the rhyme's a piece of chewing gum
Now I might chew, but I don't bite
My ideas are mine when I begin to write
In my sleep I'll be thinking 'bout beats and
Getting on the mic and busting some treats and
Sport the crazy funky threads that you've never even seen before
What I'm lackin' from the mackin' I can find at the thrift store
I won't scuff nor scuffle, just grin as they walk by
Take time to rhyme for a girl I hear talk fly
Down some papaya, down with the revolution
Always wear my goggles, 'cause there's so much pollution
I can do the Freak, the Patty Duke, and the Spank
Gotta free the funky fish from the funky fish tanks
I'll sell my house, sell my car, and I'll sell all my stuff
"I'm going back to New York City, I do believe I've had enough"
We're gonna' be out of her in a minute
So this one goes out to my man, Mario C
My brother Adrock, cuttin' it up on the turntable
Yeah, finger lickin' good, y'all
DJ Hurricane is finger lickin' good, y'all
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MARIO CALDATO JR., MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND, TADONE A. HILL, WENDELL T. FITE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
So Whatcha Want
(To Mario C, you can't front on that)
Well, just plug me in just like I was Eddie Harris
You're eating crazy cheese like you would think I'm from Paris
You know I get fly, you think I get high
You know that I'm gone and I'm-a tell you all why
So tell me who are you dissing, maybe I'm missing
The reason that you're smilin' or wildin', so listen
In my head, I just want to take 'em down
Imagination set loose and I'm gonna shake 'em down
Let it flow like a mud-slide
When I get on, I like to ride and glide
I've got depth of perception in my text, y'all
I get props at my mention cause I vex, y'all
So, so what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
I get so funny with my money that you flaunt
I said, "Where'd you get your information from" huh?
You think that you can front when revelation comes?
(Yeah, you can't front on that)
Well they call me Mike D, the ever-loving man
I'm like Spoonie Gee, well I'm the metropolitician (yeah-yeah-yeah)
You scream and you holler 'bout my Chevy Impala
But the sweat is getting wet around the ring around your collar
But like a dream I'm flowing without no stopping
Sweeter than a cherry pie with Reddi-wip topping
From mic to mic, kickin' it wall to wall
Well, I'll be calling out to people like a casting call
Ah, well, it's wack when you're jacked in the back of my ride
With your know, with your flow, when you're out getting by
Believe me, what you see is what you get
And you see me, I'm comin' off as you can bet
Well I think I'm losing my mind, this time
This time I'm losing my mind, that's right
Said I think I'm losing my mind, this time
This time, I'm losing my mind
(Yeah, you can't front on that)
But little do you know about something that I talk about
I'm tired of driving, it's due time that I walkabout
But in the meantime, I'm wise to the demise
I've got eyes in the back of my head so I realize
Well, I'm Dr. Spock, I'm here to rock, y'all
I want you off the wall, if you're playing the wall
I said what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
I said what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
Y'all suckers write me checks and then they bounce
So I reach into my pocket for the fresh amount
See, I'm the long-leaner, Vincent the Cleaner
I'm the illest motherf*cker from here to Gardena
Well, I'm as cool as a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce
You've got the rhyme and reason, but got no cause
But if you're hot to trot, you think you're slicker than grease
I've got news for you crews, you'll be sucking like a leech
(Yeah, you can't front on that)
So what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
So what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
I said, what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
I said, what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
Well, just plug me in just like I was Eddie Harris
You're eating crazy cheese like you would think I'm from Paris
You know I get fly, you think I get high
You know that I'm gone and I'm-a tell you all why
So tell me who are you dissing, maybe I'm missing
The reason that you're smilin' or wildin', so listen
In my head, I just want to take 'em down
Imagination set loose and I'm gonna shake 'em down
Let it flow like a mud-slide
When I get on, I like to ride and glide
I've got depth of perception in my text, y'all
I get props at my mention cause I vex, y'all
So, so what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
I get so funny with my money that you flaunt
I said, "Where'd you get your information from" huh?
You think that you can front when revelation comes?
(Yeah, you can't front on that)
Well they call me Mike D, the ever-loving man
I'm like Spoonie Gee, well I'm the metropolitician (yeah-yeah-yeah)
You scream and you holler 'bout my Chevy Impala
But the sweat is getting wet around the ring around your collar
But like a dream I'm flowing without no stopping
Sweeter than a cherry pie with Reddi-wip topping
From mic to mic, kickin' it wall to wall
Well, I'll be calling out to people like a casting call
Ah, well, it's wack when you're jacked in the back of my ride
With your know, with your flow, when you're out getting by
Believe me, what you see is what you get
And you see me, I'm comin' off as you can bet
Well I think I'm losing my mind, this time
This time I'm losing my mind, that's right
Said I think I'm losing my mind, this time
This time, I'm losing my mind
(Yeah, you can't front on that)
But little do you know about something that I talk about
I'm tired of driving, it's due time that I walkabout
But in the meantime, I'm wise to the demise
I've got eyes in the back of my head so I realize
Well, I'm Dr. Spock, I'm here to rock, y'all
I want you off the wall, if you're playing the wall
I said what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
I said what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
Y'all suckers write me checks and then they bounce
So I reach into my pocket for the fresh amount
See, I'm the long-leaner, Vincent the Cleaner
I'm the illest motherf*cker from here to Gardena
Well, I'm as cool as a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce
You've got the rhyme and reason, but got no cause
But if you're hot to trot, you think you're slicker than grease
I've got news for you crews, you'll be sucking like a leech
(Yeah, you can't front on that)
So what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
So what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
I said, what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
I said, what'cha, what'cha, what'cha want? (what'cha want?)
Writer: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
The Biz Vs. The Nuge
One, Two, Three...
The Beatsie Boys They Are They Comin' Home
They Comin' Home Oh They Comin' Home
To All Their Fans They Are They Comin' Home
They're Comin' Home Oh They're Comin' Home
The Beatsie Boys They Are They Comin' Home
They Comin' Home Oh They Comin' Home
To All Their Fans They Are They Comin' Home
They're Comin' Home Oh They're Comin' Home
Writer: MARCEL THEO HALL, TED NUGENT
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Time For Livin
Yeah, that's right
It's time to set the record straight
Ain't nobody got to spell it for me
Ain't nobody got to yell i can see
Ain't nobody got the pain i can hear
But if i have to i'll yell in your ear
Time for living
Time for giving (x4)
Ain't nobody to to spell it for me
I said ain't nobody got to yell i can see
I said ain't nobody got the pain i can hear
But if i have to i will yell in your ear
Soul fire
Soul fire
And we ain't got no water
We don't got no water
Time for living time for giving
No time for making up a monster to sell
Time for living time for giving
No time for breakin' out a lie to sell
It's time to set the record straight
Ain't nobody got to spell it for me
Ain't nobody got to yell i can see
Ain't nobody got the pain i can hear
But if i have to i'll yell in your ear
Time for living
Time for giving (x4)
Ain't nobody to to spell it for me
I said ain't nobody got to yell i can see
I said ain't nobody got the pain i can hear
But if i have to i will yell in your ear
Soul fire
Soul fire
And we ain't got no water
We don't got no water
Time for living time for giving
No time for making up a monster to sell
Time for living time for giving
No time for breakin' out a lie to sell
Writer: MILES KELLY, NOAH EVANS, SYLVESTER STEWART
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Somethings Got To Give
I Wish For Peace Between The Races
Someday We Shall All Be One
Why Fight Yourself
This One's Called Rectify
There's Something Coming To The Surface
There's Fire All Around
But This Is An Illusion
I've Seen Better Days Than This One
I've Seen Better Nights Than This One
Tension Is Rebuilding
Something's Got To Give
Something's Got To Give
Someday We Shall All Be One
Jesus Christ We're Nice
Someday We Shall All Be One
Why Fight Yourself
This One's Called Rectify
There's Something Coming To The Surface
There's Fire All Around
But This Is An Illusion
I've Seen Better Days Than This One
I've Seen Better Nights Than This One
Tension Is Rebuilding
Something's Got To Give
Something's Got To Give
Someday We Shall All Be One
Jesus Christ We're Nice
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MARIO CALDATO JR., MARK RAMOS NISHITA, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
The Blue Nun
Our evening began
in Peter Sichel's comfortable study
in his New York townhouse
Where the candlelight was just right
The hi-fi was in the background
And the wine, was delicious
[partying and laughter]
[Woman] What's the secret Peter?
[Peter] Naturally, I'll say it's the wine
[Woman] Mmmm, it does go well with the chicken!
Delicious again Peter
in Peter Sichel's comfortable study
in his New York townhouse
Where the candlelight was just right
The hi-fi was in the background
And the wine, was delicious
[partying and laughter]
[Woman] What's the secret Peter?
[Peter] Naturally, I'll say it's the wine
[Woman] Mmmm, it does go well with the chicken!
Delicious again Peter
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Stand Together
I don't see things quite the same as I used to
As I live my life I've got just me to be true to
And when I find that I don't know about Just what to do
I turn and look within to see what I should do
Now I'm not sure what it takes to be hip
A lot of people making music that to be ain't shit
So I ask creation For rhymes for this jam
Gimme lickle solo and I'll take the mic stand
Love vibe
As the earth spins into brand new day
I see the light on the horizons's not fading away
Gonna shine from within like a bright white sun
No need to hide and no place to run
Got the vibrations of the music
Bringing light to your mind
So you can move and groove
And feel the beat of the time
Sense the power in the air as it starts to move
You get a real good feeling that you just can't lose
Contemplation time, intuition time
Evolution time, resolution time
Free your mind it's time for good times
And let yourself move it's a time to shine
Spread your wings in the sky, feelin' good inside
Breaking fool with no need to hide
I got the music cuttin' throught me
Takin' control of my soul
I can't hold back I've got to let go
Stand together people come together now
It's about time we've got to get together y'all
As I live my life I've got just me to be true to
And when I find that I don't know about Just what to do
I turn and look within to see what I should do
Now I'm not sure what it takes to be hip
A lot of people making music that to be ain't shit
So I ask creation For rhymes for this jam
Gimme lickle solo and I'll take the mic stand
Love vibe
As the earth spins into brand new day
I see the light on the horizons's not fading away
Gonna shine from within like a bright white sun
No need to hide and no place to run
Got the vibrations of the music
Bringing light to your mind
So you can move and groove
And feel the beat of the time
Sense the power in the air as it starts to move
You get a real good feeling that you just can't lose
Contemplation time, intuition time
Evolution time, resolution time
Free your mind it's time for good times
And let yourself move it's a time to shine
Spread your wings in the sky, feelin' good inside
Breaking fool with no need to hide
I got the music cuttin' throught me
Takin' control of my soul
I can't hold back I've got to let go
Stand together people come together now
It's about time we've got to get together y'all
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, COLIN HODGKINSON, MARIO CALDATO JR., MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND, RON ASPERY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MARK RAMOS NISHITA, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
The Maestro
Who is the man comin' down your block?
It's me you see, with the funk in my walk ('cause)
I'm doin' just what I like to
Today is my day yeah, and I'ma get nice too
You gotta keep movin', and you can't say nothing
I'ma keep bouncin' and bumpin' and stuffin'
One thing you ought to know, well, I am the maestro
Yeah, you motherf*ckers, I'm all that
I see you lookin' at me sayin'
How can he be so skinny and live so phat?
You know why, 'cause I'm the maestro
Yeah, you know and I'm "movin' on my wheels"
"You got that?"
I feel like Rufus Thomas, the crown prince of dance
I'm Mike D, and I'm known for romance
I'm the crazy baldhead with the part on the side
And I'm riding down the block, like I'm on a water slide
'Cause it's the type of day I feel like pressing my luck
'Cause I got nothing to lose, cause I don't give a f*ck
See I'm a player, I play, don't play to win, I play to show (yeah)
I'm the maestro
Yeah that's right, ya'll
You know I got my own shit
See, this ain't America's Most Wanted
This is America's Most Mackin!
That's right other people all call it, my hit!
When I get on there is no stoppin'!
Who is the man, who is the man, who is the man?
Who is the man, who is the man, who is the man?
Who is the man, who is the man?
It's me you see, with the funk in my walk ('cause)
I'm doin' just what I like to
Today is my day yeah, and I'ma get nice too
You gotta keep movin', and you can't say nothing
I'ma keep bouncin' and bumpin' and stuffin'
One thing you ought to know, well, I am the maestro
Yeah, you motherf*ckers, I'm all that
I see you lookin' at me sayin'
How can he be so skinny and live so phat?
You know why, 'cause I'm the maestro
Yeah, you know and I'm "movin' on my wheels"
"You got that?"
I feel like Rufus Thomas, the crown prince of dance
I'm Mike D, and I'm known for romance
I'm the crazy baldhead with the part on the side
And I'm riding down the block, like I'm on a water slide
'Cause it's the type of day I feel like pressing my luck
'Cause I got nothing to lose, cause I don't give a f*ck
See I'm a player, I play, don't play to win, I play to show (yeah)
I'm the maestro
Yeah that's right, ya'll
You know I got my own shit
See, this ain't America's Most Wanted
This is America's Most Mackin!
That's right other people all call it, my hit!
When I get on there is no stoppin'!
Who is the man, who is the man, who is the man?
Who is the man, who is the man, who is the man?
Who is the man, who is the man?
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Live At P.J.s
Well,
Back to the beat y'all,
Down with the sound so sweet y'all
Just how fresh can you get y'all
Those that are blessed say yes y'all
'Cause I'm a come inside and do my thing
I'm gonna take off my drawers and let myself swing
Tantalize my tummy with a boo boo snack
But now I got to get back
Gonna break it down to the nitty grit
Gonna tell you motherf*ckers Why you ain't shit
'Cause suckers like you Just make me strong
When you're popping that bullshit all day long
I'm gonna bust my shoes I'm gonna bust my socks
I'm gonna spread my word From standing on this box
This drive through world it just ain't right
Gonna run to Joe and Tony's And get my hair cut nice
Well come on y'all and let's work it out
I'm trying to get up So don't you get me down
Life I love you now give me a pound
Up from the frying pan into the fire
Look within and try to admire, yeh
What's going on Y'all
Back to the beat y'all,
Down with the sound so sweet y'all
Just how fresh can you get y'all
Those that are blessed say yes y'all
'Cause I'm a come inside and do my thing
I'm gonna take off my drawers and let myself swing
Tantalize my tummy with a boo boo snack
But now I got to get back
Gonna break it down to the nitty grit
Gonna tell you motherf*ckers Why you ain't shit
'Cause suckers like you Just make me strong
When you're popping that bullshit all day long
I'm gonna bust my shoes I'm gonna bust my socks
I'm gonna spread my word From standing on this box
This drive through world it just ain't right
Gonna run to Joe and Tony's And get my hair cut nice
Well come on y'all and let's work it out
I'm trying to get up So don't you get me down
Life I love you now give me a pound
Up from the frying pan into the fire
Look within and try to admire, yeh
What's going on Y'all
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MARK RAMOS NISHITA, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Mark On The Bus
Good morning
Time to get up and go to work
I ride on the bus into the city every day
I sit on my seat and I dream myself away
I dream I'm on an island with that foxy lady too
But when I awaken, I must be mistaken, I'm on Third Avenue
Won't you take me away and take away me
Won't you take me away and take away me, yeah
Time to get up and go to work
I ride on the bus into the city every day
I sit on my seat and I dream myself away
I dream I'm on an island with that foxy lady too
But when I awaken, I must be mistaken, I'm on Third Avenue
Won't you take me away and take away me
Won't you take me away and take away me, yeah
Writer: MARK RAMOS NISHITA
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Professor Booty
Yes, I got more bounce than the f*cking bump
And then you want to know why because I'm motherf*ckin' truckin'
I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate
Got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait
'Cause I'm the master blaster, drinking up the shasta
My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to (looking good!)
So light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blowin' up
I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up
But now I want y'all to move it
Put your point on the floor and just prove it
And I'm smurfin', not rehearsin', gettin' live, y'all
A little puffy, so you know what, I'm doin' right
'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in
I got this feelin' that it's back again
So don't touch me, 'cause I'm electric
And if you touch me, you'll get shocked
You got, you got, you got, you got, you got
You've got the boomin' system, but it's sloshing out doo-doo
You think it's chocolate milk, but it's watered down Yoo-hoo
I've been through many times in which I thought I might lose it
The only thing that saved me, has always been music
We've got our own studio, the Son of the G
It's no question, life's been good to me
'Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove
A good mixtape to put you in the right mood
This one goes out to my man, the Groove Merchant
Coming through with beats for which I've been searching
Like two sealed copies, of Expansions
I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
The logo I sport is the face of the monkey
Union made, Ben Davis-quality, it's no junk, see?
My chrome is shining, just like an icicle
I ride around town in my low-rider bicyle
So many wack emcees, you get the TV bozak
Ain't even gonna call out your names, 'cause you're so wack
And one big oaf, who's faker than plastic
A dictionary definition of the word spastic
You should have never started something that you couldn't finish
'Cause writin' rhymes to me is like Popeye to spinach
I'm bad ass, move ya' fat ass, 'cause you're wack, son
Dancing around like you think you're Janet Jackson
Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on
I'll put the rug out under your ass as I talk on
I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof
Like an emcee at the fever in the DJ booth
With your headphones strapped, you're rockin' rewind/pause
Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours
But like a pencil to a paper, I got more to come
One after another, you can all get some
So you better take your time, and meditate on your rhyme
'Cause your shit'll be stinkin' when I go for mine
And that's right, y'all, don't get uptight, y'all
You can't say shit because you're biting what I write, y'all
And that's wrong, y'all, over the long haul
You can't cut the mustard when you're fronting it all
And then you want to know why because I'm motherf*ckin' truckin'
I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate
Got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait
'Cause I'm the master blaster, drinking up the shasta
My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to (looking good!)
So light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blowin' up
I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up
But now I want y'all to move it
Put your point on the floor and just prove it
And I'm smurfin', not rehearsin', gettin' live, y'all
A little puffy, so you know what, I'm doin' right
'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in
I got this feelin' that it's back again
So don't touch me, 'cause I'm electric
And if you touch me, you'll get shocked
You got, you got, you got, you got, you got
You've got the boomin' system, but it's sloshing out doo-doo
You think it's chocolate milk, but it's watered down Yoo-hoo
I've been through many times in which I thought I might lose it
The only thing that saved me, has always been music
We've got our own studio, the Son of the G
It's no question, life's been good to me
'Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove
A good mixtape to put you in the right mood
This one goes out to my man, the Groove Merchant
Coming through with beats for which I've been searching
Like two sealed copies, of Expansions
I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
The logo I sport is the face of the monkey
Union made, Ben Davis-quality, it's no junk, see?
My chrome is shining, just like an icicle
I ride around town in my low-rider bicyle
So many wack emcees, you get the TV bozak
Ain't even gonna call out your names, 'cause you're so wack
And one big oaf, who's faker than plastic
A dictionary definition of the word spastic
You should have never started something that you couldn't finish
'Cause writin' rhymes to me is like Popeye to spinach
I'm bad ass, move ya' fat ass, 'cause you're wack, son
Dancing around like you think you're Janet Jackson
Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on
I'll put the rug out under your ass as I talk on
I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof
Like an emcee at the fever in the DJ booth
With your headphones strapped, you're rockin' rewind/pause
Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours
But like a pencil to a paper, I got more to come
One after another, you can all get some
So you better take your time, and meditate on your rhyme
'Cause your shit'll be stinkin' when I go for mine
And that's right, y'all, don't get uptight, y'all
You can't say shit because you're biting what I write, y'all
And that's wrong, y'all, over the long haul
You can't cut the mustard when you're fronting it all
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MARIO CALDATO JR., MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Namasté
A butterfly floats on the breeze of a sun lit day
As I feel this reality gently fade away
Riding on a thought to see where it's from
Gliding through a memory of a time yet to come
Smoke paints the air Swirling images through my mind
Like a whirlpool spin beginning to unwind
And I stand at the edge cautiously awaiting
As time slips by
Carefully navigating by the stars in the sky
And I sit And I think to myself
And on the horizon the sun light begins to climb
And it seems like it's been so long since he shined
But I'm sure it was only yesterday
Namaste
A cold chill of fear cut through me
I felt my heart contract
To my mind I brought the image of light
And I expanded out of it
My fear was just a shadow
And then a voice spoke in my head
And she said dark is not the opposite of light
It's the absence of light
And I thought to myself
She knows what she's talking about
And for a moment I know
What it was all about.
As I feel this reality gently fade away
Riding on a thought to see where it's from
Gliding through a memory of a time yet to come
Smoke paints the air Swirling images through my mind
Like a whirlpool spin beginning to unwind
And I stand at the edge cautiously awaiting
As time slips by
Carefully navigating by the stars in the sky
And I sit And I think to myself
And on the horizon the sun light begins to climb
And it seems like it's been so long since he shined
But I'm sure it was only yesterday
Namaste
A cold chill of fear cut through me
I felt my heart contract
To my mind I brought the image of light
And I expanded out of it
My fear was just a shadow
And then a voice spoke in my head
And she said dark is not the opposite of light
It's the absence of light
And I thought to myself
She knows what she's talking about
And for a moment I know
What it was all about.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Check Your Head is the third studio album by the American hip hop group Beastie Boys, released on April 21, 1992, by Grand Royal and Capitol Records. Three years elapsed between the releases of the band's previous studio album Paul's Boutique (1989) and Check Your Head, which was recorded at the G-Son Studios in Atwater Village in 1991 under the guidance of producer Mario Caldato Jr., the group's third producer in as many albums. Less sample-heavy than their previous records, the album features instrumental contributions from all three members: Adam Horovitz on guitar, Adam Yauch on bass guitar, and Mike Diamond on drums.
The album was re-released in a number of formats in 2009, with 16 B-sides and rarities, as well as a commentary track, included as bonus material. It is one of the albums profiled in the 2007 book Check the Technique, which includes a track-by-track breakdown by Diamond, Yauch, Horovitz, Caldato, and frequent Beasties collaborator Money Mark.
Performed By:
Beastie BoysThe album was re-released in a number of formats in 2009, with 16 B-sides and rarities, as well as a commentary track, included as bonus material. It is one of the albums profiled in the 2007 book Check the Technique, which includes a track-by-track breakdown by Diamond, Yauch, Horovitz, Caldato, and frequent Beasties collaborator Money Mark.
Genre(s): Alternative rock, rap rock, hip hop, punk-rap, progressive rap
Producer(s): Mario Caldato Jr.
Length: 53:29
Released: April 21st, 1992
Year: 1992