Texty: Beastie Boys. Beastie Boys Anthology - The Sounds of Silence (Cd 2). So What'Cha Want.

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To Mario C. You Just Running On Track

Well Just Plug Me In Just Like I Was Eddie Harris
You're Eating Crazy Cheese Like You Would Think I'm From Paris huhaa
You Know I Get Fly You Think I Get High
You Know That I'm Gone And I'ma' Tell You All Why
So Tell Me Who Are You Dissin' Maybe I'm Missin'
The Reason That You're Smilin' or Wildin' So Listen
In My Head I Just Want To Take 'em Down
Imagination Set Loose And I'm Gonna' Shake 'em Down
Let It Flow Like A Mud Slide
When I Get On I Like To Ride And Glide
I've Got Depth Of Perception In My Text Y'all
I Get Props At My Mention 'Cause I Vex Y'All
So What'cha What'cha What'cha Want What'cha Want
You're So Funny With My Money That You Flaunt You Flaunt
I Said Where'd You Get Your Information From Huh
You Think That You Can Front When Revelation Comes

"Yeah You Can't Front On That"

Well They Call Me Mike D The Ever Loving Man
I'm Like Spoonie Gee Well I'm The Metropolitician
You Scream And You Holler About My Chevy Impala
But The Sweat Is Getting Wet Around The Ring Around Your Collar
But Like A Dream I'm Flowing Without No Stopping
Sweeter Than A Cherry Pie With Ready Whip Topping
Goin' From Mic To Mic Kickin' It Wall To Wall
Well I'll Be Calling Out You People Like A Casting Call
Ah Well It's Wack When You're Jacked In The Back Of A Ride
With Your Know With Your Flow When You're Out Getting By
Believe Me What You See Is What You Get
And You See Me I'm Coming Off As You Can Bet
Well I Think I'm Losing My Mind This Time
This Time I'm Losing My Mind That's Right
I Said I Think I'm Losing My Mind This Time
This Time I'm Losing My Mind

"Yeah You Can't Front On That"

But Little Do You Know About Something That I Talk
About I'm Tired Of Driving It's Due Time That I Walk haa
About But In The Meantime, I'm Wise To The Demise
I've Got Eyes In The Back Of My Head So I Realize
Ah Well I'm Dr. Spock I'm Here To Rock Y'All
I Want You Off The Wall If You're Playing The Wall
I Said What'cha What'cha What'cha Want What'cha Want
I Said What'cha What'cha What'cha Want What'cha Want
Y'All Suckers Write Me Checks And Then They Bounce
So I Reach Into My Pocket For The Fresh Amount
See I'm The Long Leaner Victor The Cleaner
I'm The Illest Motherfucker From Here To Gardena
Well I'm As Cool As A Cucumber In A Bowl Of Hot Sauce
You've Got The Rhyme And Reason But Got No Cause
But If You're Hot To Trot You Think You're Slicker Than Grease
I've Got News For You Crews You'll Be Sucking Like A Leach

"Yeah You Can't Front On That"

So What'cha What'cha What'cha Want What'cha Want
So What'cha What'cha What'cha Want So What'cha Want
I Said What'cha What'cha What'cha Want What'cha Want
I Said What'cha What'cha What'cha Want So What'cha Want