Licensed to Ill

Because Mutiny on the Bounty's what we're all about

I'm gonna board your ship and turn it on out

No soft sucker with a parrot on his shoulder

'Cause I'm bad gettin' bolder, cold cold gettin' colder

Terrorizin' suckers on the seven seas

And if you've got beef, you get capped in the knees

We got sixteen men on a dead man's chest

And I shot those suckers and I'll shoot the rest

Most illingest b-boy, I got that feelin'

'Cause I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

Snatchin' gold chains, nickin' pieces of eight

I got your money and your honey and the fly name plate

We got wenches on the benches and bitties with titties

Housin' all girlies from city to city

One for all and all for one

Takin' out MC's with a big shotgun

All for one and one for all

Because the Beastie Boys have gone AWOL

Friggin' in the riggin', man, cuttin' your throat

Big bitin' suckers gettin' thrown in the moat

We got maidens and wenches, man they're on the ace

Captain Bligh's gonna die when we break his face

Most illingest b-boy, I got that feelin'

I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

Ali Baba and the forty thieves

Ali Baba and the forty thieves

Ali Baba and the forty thieves

Ali Baba and the forty thieves

Ali Baba and the forty thieves

Ali Baba and the forty thieves

Ali Baba and the forty thieves

Ali Baba and the forty thieves

Torchin' and crackin' and rhymin' and stealin'

Robbin' and rapin', bustin' two in the ceilin'

I'm wheelin', I'm dealin', I'm drinkin', not thinkin'

Never cower, never shower and I'm always stinkin'

Yo-ho-ho and a pint of Brass Monkey

And when my girlie shakes her hips, she sure gets funky

Skirt chasin', free basin', killin' every village

We drink and rob and rhyme and pillage

Most illingest b-boy, I got that feelin'

I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

I was drinkin' my rum, a Def son of a gun

I fought the law and I cold won

Black Beard's weak, Moby Dick's on the tick

'Cause I pull out the jammy and I squeeze off six

My pistol is loaded, I shot Betty Crocker

Deliver Colonel Sanders down to Davey Jones' locker

Rhymin' and stealin' in a drunken state

And I'll be rockin' my rhymes all the way to hell's gate

Most illingest b-boy, I got that feelin'

I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

Most illingest b-boy, I got that feelin'

I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

Most illingest b-boy, I got that feelin'

'Cause I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

Most illingest b-boy, I got that feelin'

I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

Most chillinest b-boy

I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

Most killingest b-boy

I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin'

Most dustin' out b-boy, I'm tossin' my dust

Most finkinest b-boy, I'm doin' that finkin'

Most rhyminest b-boy, I'm stretchin' my shade

Most shootinest b-boy, I think you're shit

Most rhyminest b-boy, I'll steal your shit homeboy

Most taxinest b-boy, I'll tax you boy

Most illingest illingest illingest b-boy

Taxin' all y'all squares, yeah!

And on the cool check in

Center stage on the mic

And we 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 (word)

Stepped into the party, the place was over packed

Saw the kid that dissed my homeboy and 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

If I played guitar I'd be Jimmy Page

The girlies I like are underage (shh! 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 (what up?)

I've got a list of girlies numbers from the places I've 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 and 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'm fly at Fat Burger, (when he's) when I way out west (check it!)

K-I-N-G-A-D, whammy

All the fine ladies, they're on my jammy

Went to the prom, wore the fly blue rental

Got six girlies in my Lincoln Continental

I met a girl at the party and she started to flirt

I told her some rhymes and she pulled up her skirt

Spent some bank, I got a high powered jumbo

Rolled up the wooly , (what he do?) and I watched Colombo

Let me clear my throat

Kick it over here baby pop

And let all the fly skimmies

Feel the beat

Hmm, drop

Coolin' on the corner on a hot summer's day

Just me, my posse and M.C.A.

A lot of beer, a lot of girls and a lot of cursing

.22 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, 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 M.C.A., 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

Well this girl came up to me, she says she's new in town

But the crew been said they seen her around

I thought they were right but I didn't want to know

The girlie was Def and she wanted to go

I think her name is Lucy but they all call Loose

I think I thought I seen her on eighth and forty-deuce

The next think she said, my place or yours?

Let's kick some bass behind closed doors!

We got into the cab, the cab driver said

He recognized my girlie from the back of her head

He said a little something about tip to base

So I made him stop the cab to get out of the place

I shouldn't have looked back man I'll always regret it

Something's going on and I'll probably never get it

She was crying like a baby, stupid dumb

It's just too bad that girl's a bum

She's crafty, she's gets around

She's crafty, she's always down

She's crafty, she's got a gripe

She's crafty, and she's just my type

She's crafty

I spent my last dollar to buy a Sabrett

When I seen this girl I could never forget

Now I like nothing better than a pretty girl smile

And I haven't seen a smile that pretty in a while

The girl came up to me she said she loved the show

Asked her to come home and she couldn't say, no

We got the crib, there's Adam and D.

We didn't say a word, they just stared at me

I said, I don't know her just met her tonight

And Adrock started hiding everything in sight

D. pulled me over said, hide your gold,

The girl is crafty like ice is cold!

The girl is crafty, she knows all the moves

I started playing records, she knew all the grooves

He thought she was a thief and D. was right

But I just figured she'd spend the night

When I woke up later in the afternoon

She had taken all the things from inside his room

I found myself naked in the middle of the floor

She had taken the bed and the chest of drawers

The mirror, the TV, the new guitar cord

My remote control and my old skateboard

She robbed us blind, she took all we owned

And the boys blamed me for bringing her home

She's crafty, she's gets around

She's crafty, she's always down

She's crafty, she's got a gripe

She's crafty, and she's just my type

She's crafty

She's crafty, she's gets around

She's crafty, she's always down

She's crafty, she's got a gripe

She's crafty, and she's just my type

She's crafty

She's gets around

She's crafty, and she's always down

She's crafty, she's got a gripe

She's crafty, and she's just my type

She's crafty

Yes, yes, y'all and you don't stop

You keep it on and shockin' the place

Well I'm M.C.A. I got nothing to prove

Pay attention my intention is to bust a move

I drink quarts and cans and bottles and sixes

Between the turntables keep the vodka and the mixes

I'm Mike D. I got the deuces wild

A list of girlies numbers that I've dialed

I do the Smurf, the Popeye, and the Jerry Lewis

I like Bullwinkle but I don't like Brutus

I'm schoolin' in the boys' room coolin' by the locker

All the girls in class know that I'm the cool rocker

Punk in the hall man I should of oughta hit him

Had the fresh rhymes and the kid cold bite 'em

Smokin' in the boys room is what I do best

While you were at a party your girlfriend fessed

I keep a pistol in my pocket so you better be cautious

Fly around the world but it makes me nauseous

Mike D.'s day off everyday of the week

I got to the party and I did the freak

I got a girl in the Castle and one in the pagoda

You know I got rhymes like Abe Vigoda

I'm a Def Manhattan killer, a rhyme driller

A mic in my hand and a mouth full of Miller

I got a hat not a visor, I drink Budweiser

The turntables up on the drum riser

The needle's in the groove and the vinyl's on the platter

I know that I'm fly man there's no need to flatter

I travel around the globe, it's keeping girlies dizzy

My name's Mike D., now watch me get busy y'all

You're a fake wearin' sucker whose gold got rusted

Cheaper than a hot do with no mustard

You tried to steal my fresh and you got cold busted

Because your crew's all soft and I'm disgusted

I'm from downtown from the city of Manhattan

I got a lotta girlies and not one's cattin'

My posse's in effect and we're doin' the do

And we got more rhymes than your damn crew

Caught you poppin' that weak and you must of been dusted

Stuck you head in the toilet and stone cold flushed it

Word

They got a committee to get me off the block

'Cause I say my rhymes loud and I say 'em nonstop

Because being bad news is what we're all about

We went to White Castle and we got thrown out

I got my boy Mike D., I got the King Adrock

I got the jammy with the ammo inside my sock

I shot homeboy but the bullet was a dud

So I reached in the Miller cooler, grabbed a cool Bud

Slow riding, gun hidin' on the go

I'm fly like an eagle and I drink Old Crow

I'm the king of the classroom, coolin' in the back

My teacher had beef so I gave her a smack

She chased me out of class she was strapped with a ruler

Went to the bathroom, rolled myself a wooler

With bottle in hand at the microphone stand

Ah yo homeboy, what you drinkin' man

I got money, I got juice

I got to the party and I got loose

I got rhythms, I got rhymes

I got the girlies with the Def behinds

I got ill, I got busted

I got dust and I got dusted

I got gold, I got funky

I got the new dance, they call the Brass Monkey

Because I'm hard hittin', always bitten, cool as hell

I got trees on my mirror so my car won't smell

Sittin' around the house, gettin' high and watchin' tube

And eating Colonel's chicken, drinkin' Heineken brew

And I'm a gangster, I'm a prankster, I'm the king of the Ave.

And I'm hated, confrontated for the juice that I have

All the fly ladies are making a fuss

But I can't pay attention, 'cause I'm on that dust

Girls!

And all I really want is (Girls!)

And in the morning it's (Girls!)

'Cause in the evening it's (Girls!)

I like the way that they walk

And it's chill to hear them talk

And I can always make them smile

From White Castle to the Nile

Back in the day

There was this girl around the way

She liked my home-piece MCA

He said he would not give her play

I asked him, "Please?" he said, "You may"

Her pants were tight and that's okay

If she would dance, I would DJ

We took a walk down to the bay

I hope she'll say

"Hey, me and you should hit the hay!"

I asked her out, she said, "No way!"

I should have probably guessed her gay

So I broke north with no delay

I heard she moved real far away

That was two years ago this May

I seen her just the other day

Jackin' Mike D to my dismay

(Girls!) To do the dishes

(Girls!) To clean up my room

(Girls!) To do the laundry

(Girls!) And in the bathroom

Girls!

That's all I really want is girls

Two at a time, I want girls

With new wave hairdos, I want girls

I ought to whip out my

Girls, girls, girls, girls, girls

Girls, girls, girls, girls

Girls, girls, girls, girls

Kick it!

You wake up late for school, man, you don't wanna go

You ask your mom, "Please?", but she still says, "No!"

You missed two classes and no homework

But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk

You gotta fight for your right to party

Your pop caught you smoking, and he said, "No way!"

That hypocrite smokes two packs a day

Man, living at home is such a drag

Now your mom threw away your best porno "mag"

(Busted)

You gotta fight for your right to party

Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear

I'll kick you out of my home if you don't cut that hair

Your mom busted in and said, "What's that noise?"

Aw, mom you're just jealous, it's the Beastie Boys

You gotta fight for your right to party

You gotta fight for your right to party

Party

Party

No sleep 'til

Brooklyn

Foot on the pedal, never ever false metal

Engine running hotter than a boiling kettle

My job ain't a job, it's a damn good time

City to city, I'm running my rhymes

On location, touring around the nation

Beastie Boys always on vacation

Itchy trigger finger but a stable turntable

I do what I do best because I'm willing and able

Ain't no faking, your money I'm taking

Going coast to coast to watch all the girlies shaking

While you're at the job working nine to five

The Beastie Boys at the Garden, cold kickin' it live

No sleep 'til

Another plane, another train

Another bottle in the brain

Another girl, another fight

Another drive all night

Our manager's crazy, he always smokes dust

He's got his own room at the back of the bus

Tour around the world, you rock around the clock

Plane to hotel, girls on the jock

Trashing hotels like it's going out of style

Getting paid along the way 'cause it's worth your while

Four on the floor, Ad Rock's out the door

MCA's in the back because he's skeezin' with a whore

We got a safe in the trunk with money in a stack

With dice in the front and Brooklyn's in the back

White boys got more rhymes

No sleep 'til

No sleep 'til Brooklyn

No sleep 'til Brooklyn

Ain't seen the light since we started this band

MCA get on the mike, my man

Born and bred in Brooklyn, the U.S.A

They call me Adam Yauch but I'm MCA

Like a lemon to a lime, a lime to a lemon

I sip the def ale with all the fly women

Limos, arenas, and TV shows

Autograph pictures and classy hoes

Step off, Homes, get out of my way

Taxing little girlies from here to L.A

Waking up before I get to sleep

'Cause I'll be rockin' this party eight days a week

No sleep 'til

No sleep 'til Brooklyn

No sleep 'til Brooklyn

No sleep 'til Brooklyn (Brooklyn)

No sleep 'til Brooklyn, yeah

No sleep 'til Brooklyn (Brooklyn)

No sleep 'til Brooklyn (Brooklyn)

No sleep 'til Brooklyn (Brooklyn)

No sleep 'til Brooklyn (Brooklyn)

No sleep 'til Brooklyn (Brooklyn)

Never sleep 'til Brooklyn (Brooklyn)

Now here's a little story I got to tell

About three bad brothers you know so well

It started way back in history

With Ad-Rock, MCA and me, Mike D

Been had a little horsey named Paul Revere

Just me and my horsey and a quart of beer

Ridin' 'cross the land, kickin' up sand

Sheriff's posse's on my tail 'cause I'm in demand

One lonely Beastie I be

All by myself without nobody

The sun is beatin' down on my baseball hat

The air is gettin' hot, the beer is gettin' flat

Lookin' for a girl, I ran into a guy

His name is MCA, I said, "howdy", he said, "hi"

He told a little story that sounded well-rehearsed

Four days on the run and that he's dying of thirst

The brew was in my hand, and he was on my tip

His voice was hoarse, his throat was dry, he asked me for a sip

He said, "Can I get some?"

I said, "You can't get none"

Had a chance to run, pulled out his shotgun

Quick on the draw, I thought I'd be dead

He put the gun to my head and this is what he said

"Now my name is MCA, I got a license to kill

I think you know what time it is, it's time to get ill

Now what do we have here, an outlaw and his beer?

I run this land, you understand? I've made myself clear"

We stepped into the wind, he had a gun, I had a grin

You think this story's over, but it's ready to begin

"Now I've got the gun, you've got the brew

You got two choices of what you can do

It's not a tough decision, as you can see

I can blow you away or you can ride with me"

I said, "I'll ride with you if you can get me to the border

The sheriff's after me for what I did to his daughter

I did it like this, I did it like that

I did it with the whiffleball bat"

So I'm on the run, the cop got my gun

And right about now it's time to have some fun

The King Ad-Rock, that is my name

And I know the fly spot where they got the champagne

We rode for six hours then we hit the spot

The beat was a-bumpin' and the girlies was hot

This dude was starin' like he knows who we are

We took the empty spot next to him at the bar

MCA said, "Yippe-Yo, you know this kid?"

I said I didn't, but I know he did

The kid said, "Get ready, 'cause this ain't funny

My name's Mike D and I'm about to get money"

Pulled out the jammy, aimed it at the sky

He yelled, "Stick 'em up!" and let two fly

Hands went up and people hit the floor

He wasted two kids that ran for the door

"I'm Mike D and I get respect

Your cash and your jewelry is what I expect"

MCA was with it, and he's my ace

So I grabbed the piano player and punched him in the face

Piano player's out, the music stopped

His boy had beef, and he got dropped

Mike D grabbed the money, MCA snatched the gold

I grabbed two girlies and a beer that's cold

(Hold it now, hit it)

Yo, Leroy

Ahh, yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah

Why don't you hook up that def jam right about now?

Now I chill real ill when I start to chill

When I fill my pockets with a knot of dollar bills

Sippin' pints of ale out the window sill

When I get my fill I'm chilly chill

Now, I just got home because I'm out on bail

What's the time? It's time to buy ale

Peter eater, parking meter all of the time

If I run out of ale, it's Thunderbird wine

Miller drinkin', chicken eatin', dress so fly

I got friends in high places that are keepin' me high

Get down with Mike D And it ain't no hassle

I got the ladies of the eighties from here to White Castle

Hold it now, hit it

Yo, Leroy

It's my drum, it's my, hold it now, it's my rhyme

Now it's me, Adam Yauch, in the place to be

All the girls are on me 'cause I'm down with Mike D

I'm down with Mike D and it ain't no baloney

For real, not phony, O.E. and Rice-a-Roni

I come out at night 'cause I sleep all day

Well, I'm the King Ad-Rock and he's MCA

Well I'm cruisin', I'm bruisin', I'm never ever losin'

I'm in my car, I'm going far and dust is what I'm usin'

Around the way is where I'm from

And I'm from Manhattan and I'm not a bum

Because you're pud-slapping, ball-flapping, got that juice

My name's Mike D and I can do that Jerry Lewis

Hold it now hit it

Yo, Leroy

Yo, that was real def man, try that again, man

I like that def stuff, boy

Hip-hop, body rockin', doing the do

Beer drinkin', breath stinkin', sniffin' glue

Belly fillin', always illin', bustin' caps

My name's Mike D and I write my own snaps

I'm a peep-show seekin' on the Forty-deuce

I'm a killer at large and I'm on the loose

Pistol packin', Monkey drinkin', no money bum

I come from Brooklyn 'cause that's where I'm from

Cheap-skate, perpetrating, money hungry jerk

Everyday I drink O.E. and I don't go to work

You drippy nose knuckle-head, you're wet behind the ears

You like men, and we like beer (beer, beer, beer)

Hold it now, hit it

Yo, Leroy

Bust that choco-lotto

What? Huh? Yo, man, pass that over here, man, alright

King of the Ave. with the Def female

You're rhymin' and stealin' with the freshest ale

Kid coolin' at the crib watchin' my TV

Ed Norton, Ted Knight, and Mr. Ed

Pump it up homeboy, just don't stop

Chef Boyardee coolin' on the pot

I take no slack 'cause I got the knack

And I'm never dusting out 'cause I torch that crack

The King Ad-Rock, that is my name

Y'all drinking Moët and we got the champagne

A quarter droppin', going shopping buying wigs

Surgeon general, cut professor, DJ Thigs

Hold it now hit it

Hit it

Hold it now

Yo Leroy

Brass Monkey

That funky Monkey

Brass Monkey junkie

That funky Monkey

Brass

Got this dance that's more than real

Drink Brass Monkey, here's how you feel

You put your left leg down, your right leg up

Tilt your head back, let's finish the cup

MCA with the bottle, D rocks the can

Ad-Rock gets nice with Charlie Chan

We're offered Moët, we don't mind Chivas

Wherever we go, we bring the Monkey with us

Ad-Rock drinks three, Mike D is D

Double R foots the bill most definitely

I drink Brass Monkey, and I rock well

I got a castle in Brooklyn, that's where I dwell

Brass Monkey

That funky Monkey

Brass Monkey junkie

That funky Monkey

Brass

'Cause I drink it anytime and any place

When it's time to get ill, I pour it on my face

Monkey tastes Def when you pour it on ice

Come on, y'all, it's time to get nice

Coolin' by the lockers, getting kind of funky

Me and the crew, we're drinking Brass Monkey

This girl walked by, she gave me the eye

I reached in the locker, grabbed the Spanish Fly

I put it in the Monkey, mixed it in a cup

Went over to the girl, "Yo baby, what's up?"

I offered her a sip, the girl, she gave me lip

It did begin, the stuff wore in, and now she's on my tip

Brass Monkey

That funky Monkey

Brass Monkey junkie

That funky Monkey

Brass

Step up to the bar, put the girl down

She takes a big gulp and slaps it around

You take a sip, you can do it, you get right to it

We had a case in the place, and we went right through it

You got a dry martini, you thinking you're cool

I'll take your place at the bar, I smack you off your stool

I'll down a .40 dog in a single gulp

And if you got beef, you'll get beat to a pulp

Monkey and parties and reelin' and rockin'

Def-def girls-girls, all y'all jockin'

The song and dance keeping you in a trance

If you don't buy my record, I got my advance

I drink it, I think it, I see it, I be it

I love Brass Monkey but I don't give D it

We got the bottle, you got the cup

Come on, everybody, let's get fff—

Brass Monkey

That funky Monkey

Brass Monkey junkie

That funky Monkey

Brass Monkey

That funky Monkey

Brass Monkey junkie

That funky Monkey

Brass Monkey

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

It's never old school, all brand new

So everybody catch, the bugaloo flu

Not like a fever, not like a cold

The beats are clear, the rhymes are bold

So don't see a doctor or see a nurse

Just listen to the music, first things first

First of all, get off the wall

It's time to party so have a ball

We slowed it on down, so get the hell up

Like a volcano I'll erupt

We got determination, bass and highs

White Castle fries only come in one size

What you see is what you get

And you ain't seen nothing yet

So let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

I do not sing but I make a Def song

You could live your whole life and I hope you live long

On the Gong Show we won't get gonged

We're the Beastie Boys, not Cheech and Chong

Strong as an ox, fresh out the box

The crowd is so live, they're coming in flocks

And when we go on, the crowd goes off

It's all hard rock there's nothing soft

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

We don't only rock the house but we'll house we rock

We don't stroll but we roll straight to the top

M.C.A., Adrock, Mike D. makes three

And we can do it like this in the place to be

When I'm recorded, you'll be rewarded

I know my song is Def 'cause you all applauded

Not P.C.P. or L.S.D. just me Mike D. in the place to be

This is not free, you must pay a fee

Cash on delivery like a C.O.D.

So let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

The beat is slow in order to dance

I want to hear I dos and no I can'ts

First you move your leg and then your arm

It's not fast and nervous, this dance is calm

It's truly stable and you ought to be able

To dance to the record when it's on the turntable

So let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

Let it flow, let yourself go

Slow and low, that is the tempo

What's the time? It's time to get ill

And what's the time? It's time to get ill

So what's the time? It's time to get ill

Now what's the time? It's time to get ill

I'm not the type of person who likes to waste my time

And when I'm on the mic, I just say my rhymes

And I'm out on bail, the check is in the mail

They can sentence me to life and I won't go to jail

I'm cool, calm, collected, from class I was ejected

Just me, Mike D and MCA, we're rarely disrespected

I got all the time that I need to kill

What's that time? It's time to get ill

You been fully captivated by that funky ass bass

Your girlfriend screams when MCA's in the place

He stumbles in the room with the Chivas in his hand

Cold chillin' on the spot at the microphone stand

I'd have the pedal to the metal if I had a car

But I'm chiller with the Miller, cold coolin' at the bar

I can drink a quart of Monkey and still stand still

What's the time? It's time to get ill

Look-lookin'-look-look-look-look

Lookin' at my Gucci, it's about that time

Lookin' at my Gucci, it's about that time

(Dee)

Went outside my house, I went down to the deli

I spent my last dime to refill my fat belly

I got rhymes galime, I got rhymes galilla

I got more rhymes than Phillis Diller

MCA takes a stand, man, you're in command

Homebody, turn it out and don't give a damn

Man, my name is MCA, I got a license to kill

And what's the time? It's time to get ill

I'm Mr. Ed

The famous Mr. Ed

(Ridin' down the block, uh-huh)

Riding down the block with my box in my hand

Today I feel like chillin' just as chill as I can

Coolin' on the corner with a 40 of O-E

'Cause me and MCA, we're down with Mike D

Man, when I run a jam, I don't give a damn

When I'm throwing bass, I say, "Thank you, ma'am"

Fuel injected, rhyme connected, running things

Well, I'm the King Ad-Rock and I'm the king of all kings

I'm looking for a spot, things are gettin' hot

I'm MCA, I'm here to stay and you, sir, you are not

Oh, no, it could not be, it's such a sight to see

It's such a trip, you're on my tip, so listen to Mike D

My work is my play because I'm playin' when I work

My name's Mike D as you can see and I can do the Jerk

MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, it's chill

What's the time? It's time to get ill

Now what's the time? It's time to get ill

And what's the time? It's time to get ill

So what's the time? It's time to get ill

And what's the time? It's time to get ill