Beastie Boys

Texty piesní Albumy

Shadrach

Riddle me this my brother, can you handle it?

Your style to my style, you can't hold a candle to it

Equinox symmetry and the balance is right

Smokin' and drinkin' on a Tuesday night

It's not how you play the game, it's how you win it

I cheat and steal and sin and I'm a cynic

For those about to rock we salute you

The dirty thoughts for dirty minds we contribute to

I once was lost but now I'm found

The music washes over and you're one with the sound

Well, who shall inherit the earth? The meek shall

And yo, I think I'm starting to peak now, Al

And then the man upstairs, well I hope that he cares

If I had a penny for my thoughts I'd be a millionaire

We're just three MC's and we're on the go

Shadrach, Mesach, Abednago

Only twenty four hours in a day

Only twelve notes well a man can play

Music for all, and not just one people

And now we're gonna bust with the Putney Swope sequel

More Adidas sneakers that a plumber's got pliers

Got more suitst than Jacoby and Meyers

If not for my vices and my bugged out desires

My year would be good just like Goodyear's tires

So I'm out pickin' pockets at the atlantic antic

And nobody wants to hear you 'cause your rhymes are damn frantic

I mix business with pleasure way too much

You know wine, and women, and song, and such

I don't get blue, I gotta mean red streak

You don't pay the band, your friends, yo that's weak

Get even like Steven like pulling a Rambo

Shadrach, Mesach, Abednago

Steal from the rich and I'm out robbing banks

Giving to the poor and I always give thanks

Becuase I got more stories that JD's got Salinger

I hold the title and you are the challenger

I've got money like Charles Dickens

I've got the girlies in the coup like the Colonel's got the chickens

And I always go out dapper like the Harry S. Truman

I'm madder than Mad's Alfred E. Neuman

{I'm never gonna let them say that I don't love you}

Well, my noggin is hoggin' all kinds of thoughts

And Adam's yoggin is Yauch and he's rockin of course

Smoke the holy chalice, got my own religion

Rally round the stage and check the funky dope musicians

Like Jerry Lee Swaggert or Jerry Lee Falwell

You like Mario Andretti 'cause he always drives his car well

Vicious circle of reality since the day you were born

And we love the hot butter, on what? The popcorn

Sippin on wine and mackin'

Rockin on the stage with all the hands clappin'

Ride the wave of fate, it don't ride me holmes

{Being very proud of being MCs}

And the man upstairs I hope that he cares

If I had a penny for my thoughts I'd be a millionaire

Amps and crossovers, under my rear hood

Becuase the bass is bumpin from the back of my Fleetwood

They tell us what to do? Hell no

Shadrach, Mesach, Abednago