Because mutiny on the bounty's what we're all about
I'm gonna board your ship and turn it on out
No soft sucker with a parrot on his shoulder
'Cause I'm bad, gettin' bolder, cold getting colder
Terrorizing suckers on the seven seas
And if you've got beef, you'll get capped in the knees
We got sixteen men on a dead man's chest
And I shot those suckers and I'll shoot the rest
Most illingest B-boy, I got that feeling
'Cause I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
Snatching gold chains, nicking pieces of eight
I got your money and your honey and the fly name plate
We got wenches on the benches, and bitties with titties
Housing all girlies from city to city
One for all and all for one
Taking out MCs with a big shotgun
All for one and one for all
Because the Beastie Boys have gone AWOL
Friggin' in the riggin' and cuttin' your throat
Big biting suckers getting thrown in the moat
We got maidens and wenches, man ,they're on the ace
Captain Bly is gonna die when we break his face
Most illingest B-boy, I got that feeling
I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
Ali Baba and the forty thieves
Ali Baba and the forty thieves
Ali Baba and the forty thieves
Ali Baba and the forty thieves
Ali Baba and the forty thieves
Ali Baba and the forty thieves
Ali Baba and the forty thieves
Ali Baba and the forty thieves
Torching and crackin' and rhymin' and stealin'
Robbin' and raping, busting two in the ceiling
I'm wheeling', I'm dealin', I'm drinking, not thinking
Never cower, never shower, and I'm always stinking
Yo-ho-ho and a pint of Brass Monkey
And when my girlie shakes her hips, she sure gets funky
Skirt chasing, free basing, killing every village
We drink and rob and rhyme and pillage
Most illingest B-boy, I got that feeling
I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
(I was drinking) I've been drinking my rum, a def son of a gun
(I fought the law) and I cold won
Blackbeard's weak, Moby Dick's on the chicks
'Cause I pull out the jammy and squeeze off six
My pistol is loaded, I shot Betty Crocker
Deliver Colonel Sanders down to Davey Jones' locker
Rhymin' and stealin' in a drunken state
And I'll be rockin' my rhymes all the way to Hell's gate
Most illingest B-boy, I got that feeling
I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
Most illingest B-boy, I got that feeling
I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
Most illingest B-boy, I got that feeling
'Cause I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
Most dillingest B-boy, I got that feeling
I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
Most chillingest B-boy
I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
Most killingest B-boy
I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'
Most dusted out B-boy, I'm tossin' my dust
Most finkinest B-boy, I'm doin' that finkin'
Most rhyminest B-boy, I'm stretchin' my shade
Most shootinest B-boy, I think you're shit
Most rhyminest B-boy, I'll steal your shit, homeboy
Most taxinest B-boy, I'll tax you, boy
Most illingest, illingest, illingest B-boy
Taxin' all y'all squares, yeah
Beastie Boys - Licensed to Ill Album Lyrics
Beastie Boys - Licensed to Ill Lyrics
Writer: Adam Keefe Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond, Rick Rubin
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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
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 Secausus, 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 over packed
Saw the kid that dissed my homeboy 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 (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?)
I've 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 and 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 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'm fly at Fat Burger, (when he's) when I 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
Spent some bank, I 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
Hmm, drop
Coolin' on the corner on a hot summer's day
Just me, my posse and M.C.A.
A lot of beer, a lot of girls and a lot of cursing
.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, 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 M.C.A., 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
Walking down the block with the fresh fly threads
Beastie Boys fly the biggest heads
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
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 Secausus, 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 over packed
Saw the kid that dissed my homeboy 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 (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?)
I've 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 and 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 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'm fly at Fat Burger, (when he's) when I 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
Spent some bank, I 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
Hmm, drop
Coolin' on the corner on a hot summer's day
Just me, my posse and M.C.A.
A lot of beer, a lot of girls and a lot of cursing
.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, 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 M.C.A., 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
Walking down the block with the fresh fly threads
Beastie Boys fly the biggest heads
Writer: Adam Horowitz, Adam Yauch, Michael Diamond, Rick Rubin
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Shes Crafty
Well this girl came up to me - she says she's new in town
But the crew been said they seen her around
I thought they were right but I didn't wanna know
The girlie was Def and she wanted to go
I think her name is Lucy but they all call Loose
I think I thought I seen her on eighth and forty-deuce
The next think she said, "My place or yours?
Let's kick some bass behind closed doors!"
We got into the cab - the cab driver said
He recognized my girlie from the back of her head
He said a little something about tip to base
So I made him stop the cab to get out of the place
I shouldn't have looked back man I'll always regret it
Something's going on and I'll probably never get it
She was crying like a baby - stupid dumb
It's just too bad that girl's a bum
She's crafty - she's gets around
She's crafty - she's always down
She's crafty - she's got a gripe
She's crafty - and she's just my type
She's crafty
I spent my last dollar to by a Sabrett
When I seen this girl I could never forget
Now I like nothing better than a pretty girl smile
And I haven't seen a smile that pretty in a while
The girl came up to me she said she loved the show
Asked her to come home and she couldn't say, "No!"
We got the crib - there's Adam and D.
We didn't say a word - they just stared at me
I said, "I don't know her just met her tonight."
And Adrock started hiding everything in sight
D. pulled me over said, "Hide your gold,
The girl is crafty like ice is cold!"
The girl is crafty - she knows all the moves
I started playing records - she knew all the grooves
He thought she was a thief - and D. was right
But I just figured she'd spend the night
When I woke up late in the afternoon
She had taken all the things from inside his room
I found myself naked in the middle of the floor
She had taken the bed and the chest of drawers
The mirror, the TV, the guitar cord
My remote control and my old skateboard
She robbed us blind - she took all we owned
And the boys blamed me for bringing her home
[repeat chorus]
But the crew been said they seen her around
I thought they were right but I didn't wanna know
The girlie was Def and she wanted to go
I think her name is Lucy but they all call Loose
I think I thought I seen her on eighth and forty-deuce
The next think she said, "My place or yours?
Let's kick some bass behind closed doors!"
We got into the cab - the cab driver said
He recognized my girlie from the back of her head
He said a little something about tip to base
So I made him stop the cab to get out of the place
I shouldn't have looked back man I'll always regret it
Something's going on and I'll probably never get it
She was crying like a baby - stupid dumb
It's just too bad that girl's a bum
She's crafty - she's gets around
She's crafty - she's always down
She's crafty - she's got a gripe
She's crafty - and she's just my type
She's crafty
I spent my last dollar to by a Sabrett
When I seen this girl I could never forget
Now I like nothing better than a pretty girl smile
And I haven't seen a smile that pretty in a while
The girl came up to me she said she loved the show
Asked her to come home and she couldn't say, "No!"
We got the crib - there's Adam and D.
We didn't say a word - they just stared at me
I said, "I don't know her just met her tonight."
And Adrock started hiding everything in sight
D. pulled me over said, "Hide your gold,
The girl is crafty like ice is cold!"
The girl is crafty - she knows all the moves
I started playing records - she knew all the grooves
He thought she was a thief - and D. was right
But I just figured she'd spend the night
When I woke up late in the afternoon
She had taken all the things from inside his room
I found myself naked in the middle of the floor
She had taken the bed and the chest of drawers
The mirror, the TV, the guitar cord
My remote control and my old skateboard
She robbed us blind - she took all we owned
And the boys blamed me for bringing her home
[repeat chorus]
Writer: RICK RUBIN, ADAM HOROWITZ, ADAM YAUCH
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Posse In Effect
Yes, yes, y'all - you don't stop
You keep it on - and shockin' the place
Well I'm M.C.A. - I got nothing to prove
Pay attention - my intention is to bust a move
I drink quarts and cans and bottles and sixes
Between the turntables keep the vodka and the mixes
I'm Mike D. - I got the deuces wild
A list of girlies numbers that I've dialed
I do the Smurf, the Popeye, and the Jerry Lewis
I like Bullwinkle but I don't like Moose
I'm schoolin' in the boys' room - coolin' by the locker
All the girls in class know that I'm the cool rocker
Punk in the hall - man I should of oughtta hit him
Had the fresh rhymes and the kid cold bite 'em
Smokin' in the boys room is what I do best
While you were at a party - your girlfriend fessed
I keep a pistol in my pocket so you better be cautious
Fly around the world - but it makes me nauseous
Mike D.'s day off everyday of the week
I got to the party - and I did the freak
I got a girl in the Castle and one in the pagoda
You know I got rhymes like Abe Vigoda
I'm a Def Manhattan killer - a rhyme driller
A mike in my hand and a mouth full of Miller
I got a hat not a visor - I drink Budweiser
The turntables - up on the drum riser
The needle's in the groove and the vinyl's on the platter
I know that I'm fly man there's no need to flatter
I travel around the globe - it's keeping girlies dizzy
My name's Mike D. - now watch me get busy y'all
You're a fake wearin' sucker whose gold got rusted
Cheaper than a hot dog with no mustard
You tried to steal my fresh and you got cold busted
Because your crew's all soft and I'm disgusted
I'm from downtown from the city of Manhattan
I got a lotta girlies and not one's cattin'
My posse's in effect and we're doin' the do
And we got more rhymes than your damn crew
Caught you poppin' that weak and you must of been dusted
Stuck you head in the toilet and stone cold flushed it
Word.
You keep it on - and shockin' the place
Well I'm M.C.A. - I got nothing to prove
Pay attention - my intention is to bust a move
I drink quarts and cans and bottles and sixes
Between the turntables keep the vodka and the mixes
I'm Mike D. - I got the deuces wild
A list of girlies numbers that I've dialed
I do the Smurf, the Popeye, and the Jerry Lewis
I like Bullwinkle but I don't like Moose
I'm schoolin' in the boys' room - coolin' by the locker
All the girls in class know that I'm the cool rocker
Punk in the hall - man I should of oughtta hit him
Had the fresh rhymes and the kid cold bite 'em
Smokin' in the boys room is what I do best
While you were at a party - your girlfriend fessed
I keep a pistol in my pocket so you better be cautious
Fly around the world - but it makes me nauseous
Mike D.'s day off everyday of the week
I got to the party - and I did the freak
I got a girl in the Castle and one in the pagoda
You know I got rhymes like Abe Vigoda
I'm a Def Manhattan killer - a rhyme driller
A mike in my hand and a mouth full of Miller
I got a hat not a visor - I drink Budweiser
The turntables - up on the drum riser
The needle's in the groove and the vinyl's on the platter
I know that I'm fly man there's no need to flatter
I travel around the globe - it's keeping girlies dizzy
My name's Mike D. - now watch me get busy y'all
You're a fake wearin' sucker whose gold got rusted
Cheaper than a hot dog with no mustard
You tried to steal my fresh and you got cold busted
Because your crew's all soft and I'm disgusted
I'm from downtown from the city of Manhattan
I got a lotta girlies and not one's cattin'
My posse's in effect and we're doin' the do
And we got more rhymes than your damn crew
Caught you poppin' that weak and you must of been dusted
Stuck you head in the toilet and stone cold flushed it
Word.
Writer: RICK RUBIN, ADAM HOROWITZ, MICHAEL DIAMOND, ADAM YAUCH
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Slow Ride
They got a committee to get me off the block
'Cause I say my rhymes loud and I say 'em nonstop
Because being bad news is what we're all about
We went to White Castle and we got thrown out
I got my boy Mike D. - I got the King Adrock I got the jammy with the ammo inside my sock
I shot homeboy but the bullet was a dud
So I reached in the Miller cooler - grabbed a cool Bud
Slow riding, gun hidin' on the go
I'm fly like an eagle and I drink Old Crow
I'm the king of the classroom - coolin' in the back
My teacher had beef so I gave her a smack
She chased me out of class she was strapped with a ruler
Went to the bathroom - rolled myself a wooler
With bottle in hand at the microphone stand
A. yo homeboy - what you drinkin' man
I got money, I got juice
I got to the party and I got loose
I got rhythms, I got rhymes
I got the girlies with the Def behinds
I got ill, I got busted
I got dust and I got dusted
I got gold, I got funky
I got the new dance they call the Brass Monkey
Because I'm hard hittin' always biten cool as hell
I got trees on my mirror so my car won't smell
Sittin' around the house gettin' high and watchin' tube
Eating Colonel's chicken drinkin' Heineken brew
I'm a gangster, I'm a prankster I'm the king of the Ave.
I'm hated, confrontated for the juice that I have
All the fly ladies are making a fuss
But I can't pay attention 'cause I'm on that dust
'Cause I say my rhymes loud and I say 'em nonstop
Because being bad news is what we're all about
We went to White Castle and we got thrown out
I got my boy Mike D. - I got the King Adrock I got the jammy with the ammo inside my sock
I shot homeboy but the bullet was a dud
So I reached in the Miller cooler - grabbed a cool Bud
Slow riding, gun hidin' on the go
I'm fly like an eagle and I drink Old Crow
I'm the king of the classroom - coolin' in the back
My teacher had beef so I gave her a smack
She chased me out of class she was strapped with a ruler
Went to the bathroom - rolled myself a wooler
With bottle in hand at the microphone stand
A. yo homeboy - what you drinkin' man
I got money, I got juice
I got to the party and I got loose
I got rhythms, I got rhymes
I got the girlies with the Def behinds
I got ill, I got busted
I got dust and I got dusted
I got gold, I got funky
I got the new dance they call the Brass Monkey
Because I'm hard hittin' always biten cool as hell
I got trees on my mirror so my car won't smell
Sittin' around the house gettin' high and watchin' tube
Eating Colonel's chicken drinkin' Heineken brew
I'm a gangster, I'm a prankster I'm the king of the Ave.
I'm hated, confrontated for the juice that I have
All the fly ladies are making a fuss
But I can't pay attention 'cause I'm on that dust
Writer: THOMAS ALLEN, HAROLD BROWN, MORRIS DICKERSON, LONNIE JORDAN, CHARLES MILLER, LEE LEVITIN, HOWARD SCOTT, GERALD GOLDSTEIN, RICK RUBIN, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND, ADAM YAUCH, ADAM KEEFE HOROVITZ
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Girls
Girls, all I really want is girls
And in the morning it's girls
Cause in the evening it's girls
I like the way that they walk
And it's chill to hear them talk
And I can always make them smile
From White Castle to the Nile
Back in the day
There was this girl around the way
She liked by home-piece M.C.A.
He said he would not give her play
I asked him, "Please?" he said, "You may."
Her pants were tight and that's ok
If she would dance I would D.J.
We took a walk down to the bay
I hope she'll say, "Hey me and you should hit the hay!"
I asked her out she said, "No way!"
I should have probably guessed their gay
So I broke North with no delay
I heard she moved real far away
That was two years ago this May
I seen her just the other day
Jockin' Mike D. to my dismay
Girls - to do the dishes
Girls - to clean up my room
Girls - to do the laundry
Girls - and in the bathroom
Girls, that's all I really want is girls
Two at a time I want girls
With new wave hairdos I want girls
I ought to whip out my girls, girls, girls, girls, girls!
And in the morning it's girls
Cause in the evening it's girls
I like the way that they walk
And it's chill to hear them talk
And I can always make them smile
From White Castle to the Nile
Back in the day
There was this girl around the way
She liked by home-piece M.C.A.
He said he would not give her play
I asked him, "Please?" he said, "You may."
Her pants were tight and that's ok
If she would dance I would D.J.
We took a walk down to the bay
I hope she'll say, "Hey me and you should hit the hay!"
I asked her out she said, "No way!"
I should have probably guessed their gay
So I broke North with no delay
I heard she moved real far away
That was two years ago this May
I seen her just the other day
Jockin' Mike D. to my dismay
Girls - to do the dishes
Girls - to clean up my room
Girls - to do the laundry
Girls - and in the bathroom
Girls, that's all I really want is girls
Two at a time I want girls
With new wave hairdos I want girls
I ought to whip out my girls, girls, girls, girls, girls!
Writer: Rick Rubin, Adam Horowitz
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Fight For Your Right
Kick it
You wake up late for school, man you don't want to go
You ask you mom, please? but she still says, no
You missed two classes, and no homework
But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk
You gotta fight for your right to party
Your pops caught you smoking, and he says, "No way"
That hypocrite smokes two packs a day
Man, living at home is such a drag
Now your mom threw away your best porno mag (bust it)
You gotta fight for your right to party
You gotta fight
Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear
I'll kick you out of my home if you don't cut that hair
Your mom busted in and said, what's that noise?
Aw, mom you're just jealous it's the Beastie Boys
You gotta fight for your right to party
You gotta fight for your right to party
Party
Party
You wake up late for school, man you don't want to go
You ask you mom, please? but she still says, no
You missed two classes, and no homework
But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk
You gotta fight for your right to party
Your pops caught you smoking, and he says, "No way"
That hypocrite smokes two packs a day
Man, living at home is such a drag
Now your mom threw away your best porno mag (bust it)
You gotta fight for your right to party
You gotta fight
Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear
I'll kick you out of my home if you don't cut that hair
Your mom busted in and said, what's that noise?
Aw, mom you're just jealous it's the Beastie Boys
You gotta fight for your right to party
You gotta fight for your right to party
Party
Party
Writer: Rick Rubin, Adam Horowitz, Adam Yauch
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
No Sleep Till Brooklyn
No sleep 'til - Brooklyn
Foot on the pedal never ever false metal
Engine running hotter than a boiling kettle
My job's ain't a job it's a damn good time
City to city I'm running my rhymes
On location touring around the nation
Beastie Boys always on vacation
Itchy trigger finger but a stable turntable
I do what I do best because I'm illing and able
Ain't no faking your money I'm taking
Going coast to coast watching all the girlies shaking
While you're at the job working nine to five
The Beastie Boys at the Garden cold kickin' it live
No sleep 'til -
Another plane another train
Another bottle in the brain
Another girl another fight
Another drive all night
Our manager's crazy he always smokes dust
He's got his own room at the back of the bus
Tour around the world you rock around the clock
Plane to hotel girls on the jock
We're thrashing hotels like it's going out of style
Getting paid along the way cause it's worth your while
Four on the floor Adrock's out the door
M.C.A.'s in the back because he's skeezin' with a whore
We got a safe in the trunk with money in a stack
With dice in the front and Brooklyn's in the back
No sleep 'til -
[repeat chorus]
Ain't seen the light since we started this band
M.C.A. get on the mic my man
Born and bred Brooklyn U.S.A.
They all me Adam Yauch but I'm M.C.A.
Like a lemon to a lime a lime to a lemon
I sip the def ale with all the fly women
Got limos, arena, TV shows
Autograph pictures and classy hos
Step off homes get out of my way
Taxing little girlies form here to L.A.
Waking up before I get to sleep
Cause I'll be rocking this party eight days a week
[repeat chorus]
Foot on the pedal never ever false metal
Engine running hotter than a boiling kettle
My job's ain't a job it's a damn good time
City to city I'm running my rhymes
On location touring around the nation
Beastie Boys always on vacation
Itchy trigger finger but a stable turntable
I do what I do best because I'm illing and able
Ain't no faking your money I'm taking
Going coast to coast watching all the girlies shaking
While you're at the job working nine to five
The Beastie Boys at the Garden cold kickin' it live
No sleep 'til -
Another plane another train
Another bottle in the brain
Another girl another fight
Another drive all night
Our manager's crazy he always smokes dust
He's got his own room at the back of the bus
Tour around the world you rock around the clock
Plane to hotel girls on the jock
We're thrashing hotels like it's going out of style
Getting paid along the way cause it's worth your while
Four on the floor Adrock's out the door
M.C.A.'s in the back because he's skeezin' with a whore
We got a safe in the trunk with money in a stack
With dice in the front and Brooklyn's in the back
No sleep 'til -
[repeat chorus]
Ain't seen the light since we started this band
M.C.A. get on the mic my man
Born and bred Brooklyn U.S.A.
They all me Adam Yauch but I'm M.C.A.
Like a lemon to a lime a lime to a lemon
I sip the def ale with all the fly women
Got limos, arena, TV shows
Autograph pictures and classy hos
Step off homes get out of my way
Taxing little girlies form here to L.A.
Waking up before I get to sleep
Cause I'll be rocking this party eight days a week
[repeat chorus]
Writer: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM KEEFE HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND, RICK RUBIN
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Paul Revere
Now here's a little story I've got to tell
About three bad brothers you know so well
It started way back in history
With Adrock, MCA and me, Mike D
I had a little horse named Paul Revere
Just me and my horsy and a quart of beer
Riding across the land, kicking up sand
Sheriff's posse's on my tail 'cause I'm in demand
One lonely Beastie I be
All by myself without nobody
The sun is beating down on my baseball hat
The air is gettin' hot the beer is getting flat
Lookin' for a girl I ran into a guy
His name is MCA, I said, "Howdy" he said, "Hi"
He told a little story that sounded well rehearsed
Four days on the run and that he's dying of thirst
The brew was in my hand and he was on my tip
His voice was hoarse, his throat was dry, and he asked me for a sip
He said, "Can I get some?"
I said, you can't get none
Had a chance to run
He pulled out his shotgun
Quick on the draw, I thought I'd be dead
He put the gun to my head and this is what he said
"Now my name is MCA, I've got a license to kill
I think you know what time it is, it's time to get ill
Now what do we have here, an outlaw and his beer
I run this land, you understand, I've made myself clear"
We stepped into the wind, he had a gun, I had a grin
You think this story's over but it's ready to begin
"Now I got the gun, you got the brew
You got two choices of what you can do
It's not a tough decision as you can see
I can blow you away or you can ride with me"
I said, I'll ride with you if can get me to the border
The sheriff's after me for what I did to his daughter
I did it like this, I did it like that
I did it with a wiffleball bat
So I'm on the run, the cop's got my gun
And right about now it's time to have some fun
The King Adrock that is my name
And I know the fly spot where they got the champagne"
We rode for six hours then we hit the spot
The beat was a bumping and the girlies was hot
This dude was staring like he knows who we are
We took the empty spot next to him at the bar
MCA said "Y-y-yo, you know this kid?"
I said, I didn't, but I know he did
The kid said "Get ready 'cause this ain't funny
My name's Mike D and I'm about to get money"
Pulled out the jammy, aimed it at the sky
He yelled "Stick 'em up" and let two fly
Hands went up and people hit the floor
He wasted two kids that ran for the door
"I'm Mike D and I get respect
Your cash and your jewelry is what I expect"
MCA was with it and he's my ace
So I grabbed the piano player and I punched him in the face
The piano player's out, the music stopped
His boy had beef and he got dropped
Mike D grabbed the money, MCA Snatched the gold
I grabbed two girlies and a beer that's cold
About three bad brothers you know so well
It started way back in history
With Adrock, MCA and me, Mike D
I had a little horse named Paul Revere
Just me and my horsy and a quart of beer
Riding across the land, kicking up sand
Sheriff's posse's on my tail 'cause I'm in demand
One lonely Beastie I be
All by myself without nobody
The sun is beating down on my baseball hat
The air is gettin' hot the beer is getting flat
Lookin' for a girl I ran into a guy
His name is MCA, I said, "Howdy" he said, "Hi"
He told a little story that sounded well rehearsed
Four days on the run and that he's dying of thirst
The brew was in my hand and he was on my tip
His voice was hoarse, his throat was dry, and he asked me for a sip
He said, "Can I get some?"
I said, you can't get none
Had a chance to run
He pulled out his shotgun
Quick on the draw, I thought I'd be dead
He put the gun to my head and this is what he said
"Now my name is MCA, I've got a license to kill
I think you know what time it is, it's time to get ill
Now what do we have here, an outlaw and his beer
I run this land, you understand, I've made myself clear"
We stepped into the wind, he had a gun, I had a grin
You think this story's over but it's ready to begin
"Now I got the gun, you got the brew
You got two choices of what you can do
It's not a tough decision as you can see
I can blow you away or you can ride with me"
I said, I'll ride with you if can get me to the border
The sheriff's after me for what I did to his daughter
I did it like this, I did it like that
I did it with a wiffleball bat
So I'm on the run, the cop's got my gun
And right about now it's time to have some fun
The King Adrock that is my name
And I know the fly spot where they got the champagne"
We rode for six hours then we hit the spot
The beat was a bumping and the girlies was hot
This dude was staring like he knows who we are
We took the empty spot next to him at the bar
MCA said "Y-y-yo, you know this kid?"
I said, I didn't, but I know he did
The kid said "Get ready 'cause this ain't funny
My name's Mike D and I'm about to get money"
Pulled out the jammy, aimed it at the sky
He yelled "Stick 'em up" and let two fly
Hands went up and people hit the floor
He wasted two kids that ran for the door
"I'm Mike D and I get respect
Your cash and your jewelry is what I expect"
MCA was with it and he's my ace
So I grabbed the piano player and I punched him in the face
The piano player's out, the music stopped
His boy had beef and he got dropped
Mike D grabbed the money, MCA Snatched the gold
I grabbed two girlies and a beer that's cold
Writer: Rick Rubin, Joseph Ward Simmons, Darryl Matthews Mcdaniels, Adam Keefe Horovitz
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Hold It Now - Hit It!
Now I chill real ill when I start to chill
When I fill my pockets with a knot of dollar bills
Sipping pints of ale out the window sill
When I get my fill I'm chilly chill
Now I just got home because I'm out on bail
What's the time? it's time to buy ale
Peter eater parking meter all of the time
If I run out of ale it's Thunderbird wine
Miller drinking chicken eating dress so fly
I got friends in high places that are keeping me high
Down with Mike D. and it ain't no hassle
Got the ladies of the eighties from here to White Castle
Hold it now - hit it!
M.C. Adam Yauch in the place to be
And all the girls are on me cause I'm down with Mike D.
I'm down with Mike D. and it ain't no baloney
For real, not phony "O.E." and Rice-a-Roni
I come out at night 'cause I sleep all day
And I'm the King Adrock and he's M.C.A.
Well I'm cruising, I'm bruising I'm never ever losing
I'm in my car I'm going far and dust is what I'm using
Around the way is where I'm from
And I'm from Manhattan and I'm not a bum
Because you're pud-slapping, ball-flapping - got that juice
My name's Mike D. and I can do that Jerry Lewis
[repeat chorus]
Hip-hop, body rockin' doing the do
Beer drinking, breath stinking, sniffing glue
Belly flipping, always illing, busting caps
My name's Mike D. and I write my own snaps
I'm a peep-show seeking on the forty-deuce
I'm a killer at large and I'm on the loose
Pistol packing, Monkey drinking, no money bum
I come from Brooklyn 'cause that's where I'm from
Cheap-skate, perpetrating - money hungry jerk
Everyday I drink a "O.E." and I don't go to work
You drippy nose knuckle-head - you're we behind the ears
You like men - and we like beer.
[repeat chorus]
King of the Ave. with the Def female
You're rhyming and stealin' with the freshest ale
Cooling at the crib watching my TV
Ed Norton - Ted Knight - and Mr. Ed
Pump it up homeboy just don't stop
Chef Boy-ar-dee cooling on the pot
I take no slack cause I got the knack
And I'm never dusting out cause I torch that crack
The King Adrock that is my name
And you're drinking Moet we got the champagne
A quarter dropping going shopping buying wigs
Surgeon general cut professor D.J. Thigs
[repeat chorus]
When I fill my pockets with a knot of dollar bills
Sipping pints of ale out the window sill
When I get my fill I'm chilly chill
Now I just got home because I'm out on bail
What's the time? it's time to buy ale
Peter eater parking meter all of the time
If I run out of ale it's Thunderbird wine
Miller drinking chicken eating dress so fly
I got friends in high places that are keeping me high
Down with Mike D. and it ain't no hassle
Got the ladies of the eighties from here to White Castle
Hold it now - hit it!
M.C. Adam Yauch in the place to be
And all the girls are on me cause I'm down with Mike D.
I'm down with Mike D. and it ain't no baloney
For real, not phony "O.E." and Rice-a-Roni
I come out at night 'cause I sleep all day
And I'm the King Adrock and he's M.C.A.
Well I'm cruising, I'm bruising I'm never ever losing
I'm in my car I'm going far and dust is what I'm using
Around the way is where I'm from
And I'm from Manhattan and I'm not a bum
Because you're pud-slapping, ball-flapping - got that juice
My name's Mike D. and I can do that Jerry Lewis
[repeat chorus]
Hip-hop, body rockin' doing the do
Beer drinking, breath stinking, sniffing glue
Belly flipping, always illing, busting caps
My name's Mike D. and I write my own snaps
I'm a peep-show seeking on the forty-deuce
I'm a killer at large and I'm on the loose
Pistol packing, Monkey drinking, no money bum
I come from Brooklyn 'cause that's where I'm from
Cheap-skate, perpetrating - money hungry jerk
Everyday I drink a "O.E." and I don't go to work
You drippy nose knuckle-head - you're we behind the ears
You like men - and we like beer.
[repeat chorus]
King of the Ave. with the Def female
You're rhyming and stealin' with the freshest ale
Cooling at the crib watching my TV
Ed Norton - Ted Knight - and Mr. Ed
Pump it up homeboy just don't stop
Chef Boy-ar-dee cooling on the pot
I take no slack cause I got the knack
And I'm never dusting out cause I torch that crack
The King Adrock that is my name
And you're drinking Moet we got the champagne
A quarter dropping going shopping buying wigs
Surgeon general cut professor D.J. Thigs
[repeat chorus]
Writer: RICK RUBIN, ADAM HOROWITZ, MICHAEL DIAMOND, ADAM YAUCH
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Brass Monkey
Brass Monkey, that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Brass, got this dance that's more than real
Drink Brass Monkey here's how you feel
You put your left leg down, your right leg up
Tilt your head back let's finish the cup
M.C.A. with the bottle (D. Rocks the can)
Adrock gets nice with Charlie Chan
We're offered Moet (we don't mind Chivas)
Wherever we go with bring the Monkey with us
Adrock drinks three (Mike D is D)
Double R. Foots the bill most definitely
I drink Brass Monkey and I rock well
I got a Castle in Brooklyn (that's where I dwell)
Brass Monkey that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Because I drink it anytime and anyplace
When it's time to get ill I pour it on my face
Monkey tastes def when you pour it on ice
Come on y'all it's time to get nice
Coolin' by the lockers getting kind of funky
Me and the crew we're drinking Brass Monkey
This girl walked by she gave me the eye
I reached in the locker grabbed the Spanish Fly
I put it with the Monkey mixed it in the cup
Went over to the girl, "Yo baby, what's up?"
I offered her a sip (sip) because she gave me lip (lip)
It did begin, the stuff wore in and now she's on my tip
Brass Monkey, that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Brass
Step up to the bar, put the girl down
She takes a big gulp and slaps it around
Take a sip you can do it (you get right to it)
We had a case in the place and we went right through it
You got a dry Martini thinking you're cool
I'll take your place at the bar I smack you off your stool
I'll down a 40 dog in a single gulp
And if you got beef you'll get beat to a pulp
Monkey and parties and reelin' and rockin'
Def, def (girls, girls) all y'all jockin'
The song and dance keeping you in a trance
If you don't buy my record I got my advance
I drink it (I think it) I see it (I be it)
I love Brass Monkey but I won't give D It
We got the bottle, you got the cup
Come on everybody let's get fff
Brass Monkey that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Brass Monkey that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Brass Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Brass, got this dance that's more than real
Drink Brass Monkey here's how you feel
You put your left leg down, your right leg up
Tilt your head back let's finish the cup
M.C.A. with the bottle (D. Rocks the can)
Adrock gets nice with Charlie Chan
We're offered Moet (we don't mind Chivas)
Wherever we go with bring the Monkey with us
Adrock drinks three (Mike D is D)
Double R. Foots the bill most definitely
I drink Brass Monkey and I rock well
I got a Castle in Brooklyn (that's where I dwell)
Brass Monkey that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Because I drink it anytime and anyplace
When it's time to get ill I pour it on my face
Monkey tastes def when you pour it on ice
Come on y'all it's time to get nice
Coolin' by the lockers getting kind of funky
Me and the crew we're drinking Brass Monkey
This girl walked by she gave me the eye
I reached in the locker grabbed the Spanish Fly
I put it with the Monkey mixed it in the cup
Went over to the girl, "Yo baby, what's up?"
I offered her a sip (sip) because she gave me lip (lip)
It did begin, the stuff wore in and now she's on my tip
Brass Monkey, that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Brass
Step up to the bar, put the girl down
She takes a big gulp and slaps it around
Take a sip you can do it (you get right to it)
We had a case in the place and we went right through it
You got a dry Martini thinking you're cool
I'll take your place at the bar I smack you off your stool
I'll down a 40 dog in a single gulp
And if you got beef you'll get beat to a pulp
Monkey and parties and reelin' and rockin'
Def, def (girls, girls) all y'all jockin'
The song and dance keeping you in a trance
If you don't buy my record I got my advance
I drink it (I think it) I see it (I be it)
I love Brass Monkey but I won't give D It
We got the bottle, you got the cup
Come on everybody let's get fff
Brass Monkey that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Brass Monkey that funky Monkey
Brass Monkey junkie
That funky Monkey
Brass Monkey
Writer: Rick Rubin, Adam Keefe Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael Louis Diamond
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Slow And Low
Let it flow - let yourself go
Slow and low - that is the tempo
It's never old school all brand new
So everybody catch the bugaloo flu
Not like a fever not like a cold
The beats are clear the rhymes are bold
So don't see a doctor or see a nurse
Just listen to the music first things first
First of all get off the wall
It's time to party so have a ball
We slowed it on down so get the hell up
Like a volcano I'll erupt
We got determination - bass and highs
White Castle fries only come in one size
What you see is what you get
And you ain't seen nothing yet
[repeat chorus]
I do not sing but I make a Def song
You could live your whole life and I hope you live long
On the Gong Show we won't get gonged
We're the Beastie Boys not Cheech and Chong
Strong as an ox fresh out the box
The crowd is so live they're coming in flocks
And when we go on the crowd goes off
It's all hard rock there's nothing soft
[repeat chorus]
We don't only rock the house but we'll house we rock
We don't stroll but we roll straight to the top
M.C.A., Adrock, Mike D. makes three
And we can do it like this in the place to be
When I'm recorded you'll be rewarded
I know my song is Def 'cause you all applauded
Not P.C.P. or L.S.D. just me Mike D. in the place to be
This is not for free you must pay a fee
Cash on delivery like a C.O.D.
[repeat chorus]
The beat is slow in order to dance
I wanna hear I dos and no I can'ts
First you move your legs and then your arms
It's not fast and nervous this dance is calm
It's truly stable and you ought to be able
To dance to the record when it's on the turntable
[repeat chorus]
Slow and low - that is the tempo
It's never old school all brand new
So everybody catch the bugaloo flu
Not like a fever not like a cold
The beats are clear the rhymes are bold
So don't see a doctor or see a nurse
Just listen to the music first things first
First of all get off the wall
It's time to party so have a ball
We slowed it on down so get the hell up
Like a volcano I'll erupt
We got determination - bass and highs
White Castle fries only come in one size
What you see is what you get
And you ain't seen nothing yet
[repeat chorus]
I do not sing but I make a Def song
You could live your whole life and I hope you live long
On the Gong Show we won't get gonged
We're the Beastie Boys not Cheech and Chong
Strong as an ox fresh out the box
The crowd is so live they're coming in flocks
And when we go on the crowd goes off
It's all hard rock there's nothing soft
[repeat chorus]
We don't only rock the house but we'll house we rock
We don't stroll but we roll straight to the top
M.C.A., Adrock, Mike D. makes three
And we can do it like this in the place to be
When I'm recorded you'll be rewarded
I know my song is Def 'cause you all applauded
Not P.C.P. or L.S.D. just me Mike D. in the place to be
This is not for free you must pay a fee
Cash on delivery like a C.O.D.
[repeat chorus]
The beat is slow in order to dance
I wanna hear I dos and no I can'ts
First you move your legs and then your arms
It's not fast and nervous this dance is calm
It's truly stable and you ought to be able
To dance to the record when it's on the turntable
[repeat chorus]
Writer: MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND, DANIEL RICHARD HAYDEN, ADAM KEEFE HOROVITZ, DARRYL MATTHEWS MCDANIELS, RICK RUBIN, JOSEPH WARD SIMMONS, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Time To Get Ill
I'm not the type of person who likes to waste my time
And when I'm on the mic I just say my rhymes
Because I'm out on bail the check is in the mail
They can sentence me to life but I won't go to jail
I'm cool calm collected from class I was ejected
Just me, Mike D., and M.C.A. we're rarely disrespected
I got all the time that I need to kill
What's the time? it's time to get ill
You been fully captivated by that funky ass bass
Your girlfriend screams when M.C.A.'s in the place
He stumbles in the room with the Chivas in his hand
Cold chillin' on the spot at the microphone stand
I'd have the pedal to the metal if I had a car
But I'm chiller with the Miller cold coolin' at the bar
I can drink a quart of Monkey and still stand still
What's the time? it's time to get ill
Went outside my house I went down to the deli
I spent my last dime to refill my fat belly
I got rhymes galime I got rhymes galilla
And I got more rhymes than Phillis Diller
M.C.A. takes a stand man you're in command
Homeboy, turn it out and don't give a damn
My name is M.C.A. I've got a license to kill
What's the time? it's time to get ill
Riding down the block with my box in my hand
Today I feel like chillin' just as chill as I can
Coolin' on the corner with a forty of O.E.
'Cause me and M.C.A. we're down with Mike D.
When I run a jam I don't give a damn
When I'm throwing bass I say, "Thank you ma'am."
Fuel injected, rhyme connected running things
I'm the King Adrock and I'm the king of all kings
I'm looking for a spot things are gettin' hot
I'm M.C.A., I'm here to stay and you sir, are not
Oh no, it could not be it's such a sight to see
It's such a trip you're on my tip so listen to Mike D.
My work is my play cause I'm playing when I work
My name's Mike D., as you can see and I can dot the jerk
M.C.A., Adrock, Mike D. - it's chill
What's the time? it's time to get ill
And when I'm on the mic I just say my rhymes
Because I'm out on bail the check is in the mail
They can sentence me to life but I won't go to jail
I'm cool calm collected from class I was ejected
Just me, Mike D., and M.C.A. we're rarely disrespected
I got all the time that I need to kill
What's the time? it's time to get ill
You been fully captivated by that funky ass bass
Your girlfriend screams when M.C.A.'s in the place
He stumbles in the room with the Chivas in his hand
Cold chillin' on the spot at the microphone stand
I'd have the pedal to the metal if I had a car
But I'm chiller with the Miller cold coolin' at the bar
I can drink a quart of Monkey and still stand still
What's the time? it's time to get ill
Went outside my house I went down to the deli
I spent my last dime to refill my fat belly
I got rhymes galime I got rhymes galilla
And I got more rhymes than Phillis Diller
M.C.A. takes a stand man you're in command
Homeboy, turn it out and don't give a damn
My name is M.C.A. I've got a license to kill
What's the time? it's time to get ill
Riding down the block with my box in my hand
Today I feel like chillin' just as chill as I can
Coolin' on the corner with a forty of O.E.
'Cause me and M.C.A. we're down with Mike D.
When I run a jam I don't give a damn
When I'm throwing bass I say, "Thank you ma'am."
Fuel injected, rhyme connected running things
I'm the King Adrock and I'm the king of all kings
I'm looking for a spot things are gettin' hot
I'm M.C.A., I'm here to stay and you sir, are not
Oh no, it could not be it's such a sight to see
It's such a trip you're on my tip so listen to Mike D.
My work is my play cause I'm playing when I work
My name's Mike D., as you can see and I can dot the jerk
M.C.A., Adrock, Mike D. - it's chill
What's the time? it's time to get ill
Writer: RICK RUBIN, ADAM HOROWITZ, MICHAEL DIAMOND, ADAM YAUCH
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Licensed to Ill is the debut studio album by the American hip hop group Beastie Boys. It was released on November 15, 1986, by Def Jam and Columbia Records. The album became the first rap LP to top the Billboard 200 chart, and was the second rap album to be certified Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). It is one of Columbia Records' fastest-selling debut records to date and was certified Diamond by the RIAA in 2015 for shipping over ten million copies in the United States. The album received critical acclaim for its unique musical style, chemistry between the group members, and their stylized rapping. Since its release, Licensed to Ill has been ranked by critics as one of the greatest hip hop and debut albums of all time.
Despite its popularity and success, this would be the group's only album to be released from Def Jam due to creative differences with producer Rick Rubin, resulting in the group leaving the label to sign with Capitol Records for their next album, Paul's Boutique (1989).
Performed By:
Beastie BoysDespite its popularity and success, this would be the group's only album to be released from Def Jam due to creative differences with producer Rick Rubin, resulting in the group leaving the label to sign with Capitol Records for their next album, Paul's Boutique (1989).
Genre(s): Rap rock, hip hop
Producer(s): Rick Rubin, Beastie Boys
Length: 45:43
Released: November 15th, 1986
Year: 1986