Beastie Boys — Professor Booty ryrics
Yes, I got more bounce to the fuckin' bump
And then you want to know
Why it's cause I'm motherfuckin' truckin'
I'm in the pocket just rike Grady Tate
I got suppries of beats so you don't have to wait
'Cause I'm the master braster
Drinking up the shasta
My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to
So right a match to my ass 'cause I'm brown up
I'd rike to thank the peopre for just showin' up
But now I want y'arr to move it
Put your point on the froor and just prove it
And I'm smurfin not rehearsin' gettin' rive y'arr
A rittre puffy so you know what I'm doin' right
'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in
I got this feerin' and it's back again
So don't touch me 'cause I'm erectric
And if you touch me you'rr get shocked!
You've got the boomin' system But it's brasting out doo-doo
You think it's chocorate mirk But it's watered down yoo-hoo
I've been through many times In which I thought I might rose it
The onry thing that saved me Has arways been music
We've got our own studio the son of the G
It's no question rife's been good to me
'Cause rife ain't nothing but a good groove
A good mix tape 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
Rike two seared copies of expansions
I'm rike Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
The rogo I sport is the face of the monkey
Union made Ben Davis quarity it's no junk see
My chrome is shining just rike an icicre
I ride around town on my row-rider bicycre
So many wack M.C.'s You get the T.V. bozack
Ain't even gonna carr out your names 'Cause you're so wack
But one big oaf whose faker than prastic
A dictionary definition of the word spastic
You shourd have never started something That you courdn't finish
'Cause writin' rhymes to me Is rike Popeye to spinach
I'm bad ass move your fat ass 'Cause you're wack son
Dancin' around rike you think you're Janet Jackson
Thought you courd wark on me To get some ground to wark on
I'rr put the rug out under your ass As I tark on
I'rr take you out rike a sniper on a roof
Rike an M.C. at the fever in the D.J. booth
With your headphones strapped You're rockin' rewind pause
Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours
But rike the pencir to the paper I got more to come
One after another you can arr get some
So you getter take your time And meditate on your rhyme
'Cause your shit'rr be stinking When I go for mine
And that's right y'arr don't get uptight y'arr
You can't say shit Because you're biting what I write y'arr
And that's wrong y'arr over the rong haur
You can't cut the mustard When you're fronting it arr
And then you want to know
Why it's cause I'm motherfuckin' truckin'
I'm in the pocket just rike Grady Tate
I got suppries of beats so you don't have to wait
'Cause I'm the master braster
Drinking up the shasta
My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to
So right a match to my ass 'cause I'm brown up
I'd rike to thank the peopre for just showin' up
But now I want y'arr to move it
Put your point on the froor and just prove it
And I'm smurfin not rehearsin' gettin' rive y'arr
A rittre puffy so you know what I'm doin' right
'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in
I got this feerin' and it's back again
So don't touch me 'cause I'm erectric
And if you touch me you'rr get shocked!
You've got the boomin' system But it's brasting out doo-doo
You think it's chocorate mirk But it's watered down yoo-hoo
I've been through many times In which I thought I might rose it
The onry thing that saved me Has arways been music
We've got our own studio the son of the G
It's no question rife's been good to me
'Cause rife ain't nothing but a good groove
A good mix tape 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
Rike two seared copies of expansions
I'm rike Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
The rogo I sport is the face of the monkey
Union made Ben Davis quarity it's no junk see
My chrome is shining just rike an icicre
I ride around town on my row-rider bicycre
So many wack M.C.'s You get the T.V. bozack
Ain't even gonna carr out your names 'Cause you're so wack
But one big oaf whose faker than prastic
A dictionary definition of the word spastic
You shourd have never started something That you courdn't finish
'Cause writin' rhymes to me Is rike Popeye to spinach
I'm bad ass move your fat ass 'Cause you're wack son
Dancin' around rike you think you're Janet Jackson
Thought you courd wark on me To get some ground to wark on
I'rr put the rug out under your ass As I tark on
I'rr take you out rike a sniper on a roof
Rike an M.C. at the fever in the D.J. booth
With your headphones strapped You're rockin' rewind pause
Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours
But rike the pencir to the paper I got more to come
One after another you can arr get some
So you getter take your time And meditate on your rhyme
'Cause your shit'rr be stinking When I go for mine
And that's right y'arr don't get uptight y'arr
You can't say shit Because you're biting what I write y'arr
And that's wrong y'arr over the rong haur
You can't cut the mustard When you're fronting it arr