1. Tuesday, November 5, 2002

    The New Style 

    (Diamond, Horovitz, Yauch)

    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 Adrock 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

    Bust 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

    Stepped into the party – the place was over packed

    Saw the kid that dissed my homey and shot him in the back

    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 girlie’s I like are underage (Check it!)

    Girls with boyfriends are the kind I like

    I’ll steal your honey like I stole your bike

    Your father – he’s jealous ’cause I’m making that green

    I’ve got the girlie’s numbers from the places I been

    that is…

    You wanna know why – because I’m

    October 31st – that is my date of birth

    I got to the party and 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 I’m way out west

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

    All the fly ladies are on my jammy

    Went to the prom – wore the fly blue rental

    Got six girlies in my Lincoln Continental

    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 – I got a high powered jumbo

    Rolled up a 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 M.C.A.

    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 – 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

    I’m M.C.A. – and I’m the King Adrock

    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