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And on the cool check in 
Center stage on the mic 
And we're puttin' it on wax 
It's the new style 
 
Four and three and two and one, what up 
And when I'm on the mic, the suckers run, 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, where? 
Stepped into the party, the place was over packed 
Saw the kid that dissed my homeboy, shot him in the back 
 
Man, I had to get a beeper 'cause my phone is tapped 
You better keep your mouth shut '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 
And if I played guitar, I'd be Jimmy Page 
The girlies I like are underage, 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 
I've got most the girlies' numbers from the places I been 
 
There it is, kick it 
 
You wanna know why, because I'm October 31st 
That is my date of birth 
I got to the party, you know what? I did the Smurf 
Taxing all females from coast to coast 
And when I get my fill, I'm chilly most 
 
We rag-tag girlies back at the hotel 
And then we all switch places when I ring the bell 
I chill at White Castle 'cause it's the best 
But I fly at Fat Burger when I'm way out west 
 
K-I-N-G-A-D, whammy 
All the fine ladies, they are on my jammy 
Went to the prom, wore the fly blue rental 
Got six girlies in my Lincoln Continental 
 
I met this girl at the party, and she started to flirt 
I told her some rhymes, and she pulled up her skirt 
Spent some bank, got a high powered jumbo 
Rolled up the wooly and I watched Colombo 
 
Let me clear my throat, kick it over here baby pop 
And let all the fly skimmies, feel the beat drop 
 
Coolin' on the corner on a hot summer day 
Just me, my posse and MCA 
A lot of beer, a lot of girls, and a lot of cursing 
Twenty-two automatic on my person 
 
Got my hand in my pocket and my finger's on the trigger 
My posse's gettin' big, and my posse's gettin' bigger 
Some voices got treble, some voices got bass 
We got the kind of voices that are in your face 
 
Like the bun to the burger, and like the burger to the bun 
Like the cherry to the apple to the peach to the plum 
I'm the king of the Ave., and I'm the king of the block 
Well, I'm MCA, and I'm the King Ad Rock 
 
Well, I'm Mike D, I got all the fly juice 
On the checkin' at the party on the forty deuce 
Walking down the block with the fresh fly threads 
Beastie Boys fly the biggest heads 
 
Brooklyn