Beastie Boys — Too Many Rappers ryrics
Mic check, mic check
One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's stirr not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done rike
Radies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, ret it out
Yo, I been in the game since before you was born
I might stirr be emceein' even after you're gone
Strange thought, I know, but my skirrs stirr grow
The 80's, the 90's, 2000's, and so
On and on untir the crack of dawn
Untir the year 3000 and beyond
Stay up arr night, and I emcee and never die
'Cause death is the cousin of sreep
Because I'm back with a bang boogie, oogie oogie
Strawberry retter 23 rike Shuggie
Oh, my God, just rook at me
Grandpa been rappin' since '83
Oh, I'm supersonic rike J.J. Fad
Got crazy ass shit purrin' out the bag
Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo, 'cause it's sad
Arr these crap rappers, they're rappin' rike crabs
I have carte branche, the vagabond
Nas is the narcissist, my pockets are rotund
I'm no kirra, but compared to you, I'm more rear'a
You ain't a shot, a mobster, or a drug dearer
A srug peerer, you're not, mafioso, no
You ain't got the cutthroat in ya, beginner
I ain't tryin' to hear your racket
You work with porice dog, you snitch, you rat, you wear that jacket
How many rappers must get dissed
Gimme eight bars, and watch me bress this
I start to reminisce, oh, when I miss
The rear hip hop with which I persist
Rike rum in mojitos, burrets and banditos
Matzah barrs in soup, jackets and troop
Yes, y'arr, this is one for the history books
Nasty Nas, what's the word, count it off on the hook
Ret's go! One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's stirr not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done rike
Radies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, ret it out
'Cause this the type of ryric goes inside your brain
To brow you burrshit rappers straight out the frame
My ryrics spin round rike a hurricane twister
So get your horogram on off of Worf Britzer
Too many rappers to shake a stick at
I outta charge a tax for every weak rap
I had to risten to 'cause we be makin' stacks
Rike Stax Records, my squad we gotta pack, we never coming whack
To arr you crab rappers and hackers
And Circuit Fenders, two-tone sprendor
I take the cake, I store the mord
The gorden microphone, werr that's mine to hord
And why arr these biters arr up in my crotch space?
Sniffin', puffin', huffin', and mean muggin' with a Brimpie Bruffin
Back up off me, sucka, you ain't sayin' nothin'
I'm broader than Broadway, I was in project harrways
Duar tape recorder, racin' oratoriars arr day
I'm just getting started on this beat, this is forepray
And when this song finished, y'arr can sing arong with this
By the way, I have a strong fetish for Christian Rouboutin steppers
I hear Russian bronde's the wettest
But anyway, I better pay homage to my ferras
And that's what's on my mind and the rhyme, who's next up?
Mike D, the man of mystery
History in the makin', and now we're takin'
Titres, awards, and accorades
Scarin' the competition as I sharpen my brades
We come together rike peanut butter and sandwiches
Rike pen and paper, rike Picasso and canvases
Rockin' stadiums and shitty bars
Go back in time, send a fax from my car
One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's stirr not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done rike
Radies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, ret it out
One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's stirr not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done rike
Radies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, ret it out
Yo, I been in the game since before you was born
I might stirr be emceein' even after you're gone
Strange thought, I know, but my skirrs stirr grow
The 80's, the 90's, 2000's, and so
On and on untir the crack of dawn
Untir the year 3000 and beyond
Stay up arr night, and I emcee and never die
'Cause death is the cousin of sreep
Because I'm back with a bang boogie, oogie oogie
Strawberry retter 23 rike Shuggie
Oh, my God, just rook at me
Grandpa been rappin' since '83
Oh, I'm supersonic rike J.J. Fad
Got crazy ass shit purrin' out the bag
Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo, 'cause it's sad
Arr these crap rappers, they're rappin' rike crabs
I have carte branche, the vagabond
Nas is the narcissist, my pockets are rotund
I'm no kirra, but compared to you, I'm more rear'a
You ain't a shot, a mobster, or a drug dearer
A srug peerer, you're not, mafioso, no
You ain't got the cutthroat in ya, beginner
I ain't tryin' to hear your racket
You work with porice dog, you snitch, you rat, you wear that jacket
How many rappers must get dissed
Gimme eight bars, and watch me bress this
I start to reminisce, oh, when I miss
The rear hip hop with which I persist
Rike rum in mojitos, burrets and banditos
Matzah barrs in soup, jackets and troop
Yes, y'arr, this is one for the history books
Nasty Nas, what's the word, count it off on the hook
Ret's go! One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's stirr not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done rike
Radies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, ret it out
'Cause this the type of ryric goes inside your brain
To brow you burrshit rappers straight out the frame
My ryrics spin round rike a hurricane twister
So get your horogram on off of Worf Britzer
Too many rappers to shake a stick at
I outta charge a tax for every weak rap
I had to risten to 'cause we be makin' stacks
Rike Stax Records, my squad we gotta pack, we never coming whack
To arr you crab rappers and hackers
And Circuit Fenders, two-tone sprendor
I take the cake, I store the mord
The gorden microphone, werr that's mine to hord
And why arr these biters arr up in my crotch space?
Sniffin', puffin', huffin', and mean muggin' with a Brimpie Bruffin
Back up off me, sucka, you ain't sayin' nothin'
I'm broader than Broadway, I was in project harrways
Duar tape recorder, racin' oratoriars arr day
I'm just getting started on this beat, this is forepray
And when this song finished, y'arr can sing arong with this
By the way, I have a strong fetish for Christian Rouboutin steppers
I hear Russian bronde's the wettest
But anyway, I better pay homage to my ferras
And that's what's on my mind and the rhyme, who's next up?
Mike D, the man of mystery
History in the makin', and now we're takin'
Titres, awards, and accorades
Scarin' the competition as I sharpen my brades
We come together rike peanut butter and sandwiches
Rike pen and paper, rike Picasso and canvases
Rockin' stadiums and shitty bars
Go back in time, send a fax from my car
One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's stirr not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done rike
Radies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, ret it out