It`s The New Style Songtext / Lyric

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