B-boy Bouillabaisse Lyrics - Beastie Boys

There's a girl over there 

With long brown hair 

I took her to the place 

I threw the mattress in her face 

Took off her shirt 

Took off her bra 

Took off her pants 

You know what I saw? 

Right about now I'd like to dedicate this song out to my main homie Mike D 

Get on the mic, g-get on the mic 

Just get on the mic, get on the mic, Mike 

Let's be real and don't cloud the issue 

The rhymes are dope an M.C. you must listen to 

People say that they been missin' me and missin' you 

Get on the mic and let's show them like we used to 

You say fuck that yo Holmes fuck this 

I'm the king Ad-Whammy you're Dick Butkus 

One-half science and another half soul 

His name's Mike D. not Fat Morton Jelly Roll 

Got busy in Frisco fooled around in Fresno 

Got over on your girlie cause you know she never says no 

J-just get on the mic, just get on the mic 

G-get on the mic, get on the mic Mike 

Well, Mike D. is a special individual 

Pulling out knots and pulling in residuals 

Go to the movies get the Rolos 

The cholos riding slow and low 

Mike on the mic and bust with the solo 

Mike my stromie don't be so selfish 

Get on the mic cause you know you eat shellfish 

It's 4:00 a.m. I've got the Dr. Hfuhruhurr Ale 

I've got nothing to lose so I'm pissin' on the third rail 

Groggy eyed and fried I'm headed for the station 

D-Train ride to Coney Island vacation 

Dedicated to the boofers in the back of the 1 train 

They'll be kicking out windows high on cocaine 

And then I jump the turnstile I lost my last token 

Ride between the cars pissing, smoking 

Head for the last car fluorescent light blackout 

Policeman told my homeboy "yo put that crack out" 

You know you light up when the lights go down 

And then you read the New York Post Fulton St. downtown 

Same faces every day but you don't know their names 

Party people going places on the D-Train 

Stop that train, I wanna get on 

Check it 

Trench-coat wingtip going to work 

And you'll be pulling a train like Captain Kirk 

Pickpocket gangsters paying their debts 

I caught a bullet in the lung from Bernie Goetz 

Overworked and underpaid staring at the floor 

Prostitutes' spandex caught in the slide doors 

Now you're tuck between the stations 

And it seems like an eternity 

Sweating like sardines in a flophouse fraternity 

Fifty-dollar fine for disturbing the peace 

The neck tortoise your Lees are creased 

Hot cup of coffee and the donuts are Dunkin' 

Friday night and Jamaica Queen's funkin' 

Elevated platform never gonna conform 

Riding over the diner where I always get my toast warm 

Bust into the conductor's booth and busted out rhymes 

Over the loud speaker about the hard times 

Sat across from a man readin' El Diario 

Riding the train down from El Barrio 

Went from the station straight to Orange Julius 

I brought a hot dog from who - George Drakoulias 

M.C. for what I am and do 

The A is for Adam and the lyrics, true 

So as pray and hope and the message is sent 

And I am living in the dreams that I have dreamt 

Because I'm down with the three, the unstoppable three 

Me and Adam and D. were born to M.C. 

And my body and soul and mind are pure 

Not polluted or diluted or damaged beyond cure 

Just lyrics from I to you recited 

Arrested, bailed but cuffed and indicted 

Enter the arena as I take center stage 

The lights set low and the night has come of age 

Take the microphone in hand as that I am a professional 

Speak my knowledge to the crowd and the ed. is special 

For I am a bard but not the last one 

I'm am the king and this is my castle 

Dwell in realms of now but vidi those of the past 

Seen a glimpse from ahead and I don't think it's gonna last 

And you can bet your ass 

I drop the L. when I'm skiing 

I'm smoking and peaking 

I put the skis on the roof almost every single weekend 

Can't stop the mind-fuck when it's rolling along 

Can't stop the smooth runnin' when the shit's running strong 

Broke my bindings, the lion with wings 

Preaching his word in the B. Boy sing 

I am one with myself as I turn to thee 

Prefer the dreams to reality 

I prefer my life don't need no other man's wife 

Don't need no crazy lifestyle with stress and strife 

But it's good to have turn to be a king for a day 

Or for a week, or for a year, or for a year and a day 

Come what may 

I'm fishing with my boat and I'm fishing for trout 

Mix the Bass Ale with the Guinness Stout 

Fishing for a line inside my brain 

And looking out at the world through my window pane 

Every day has many colors 'cause the glass is stained 

Everything has changed but remains the same 

So once again the mirror raised and I see myself as clear as day 

And I am going to the limits of my ultimate destiny 

Feeling as though somebody were testing me 

He who sees the end from the beginning of time 

Looking forward through all the ages 

Is, was and always shall be 

Check the prophetic sections of the pages 

He's in line for the Disco Day 

Hello Brooklyn 

New York, New York, it's a hell of a town 

You know the Bronx is up and I'm Brooklyn down 

Because they don't know my name they only know my initials 

Building bombs in the attic for elected officials 

I quit my job, I cut my hair 

You know I cut my boss 'cause I don't care 

You tried to get slick, you bust a little chuckle 

You're gonna get smacked with my gold-finger knuckle 

'Cause being as fly as me is something you never thought of 

You'll be sticking up old ladies with the hand gun or the sawed-off 

I'm a Buffalo Soldier, broader than Broadway 

Keep keepin' on I don't care what they say 

I play my stereo loud it disturbs my neighbors 

I want to enjoy the fruits of my labor 

'Cause I am the holder of the 3-pack Bonanza 

If you open the book then you will get your hand slapped 

I am the keeper of the 3-pack Bonanza 

If you ask a question you will get the answer 

Her breast I saw I reached I felt 

M-O-N-E-Y, the belt 

I stay at home just like a hermit 

I got the jammy but I don't got the permit 

You know why? 

You got a boyfriend and his name is Slick Nick 

Annabelle caught with the shrimpy limp dick 

I ride around town 'cause my ride is fly 

I shot a man in Brooklyn 

Just to watch him die 

He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost 

He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost 

She's slippin' through his fingers as she's movin' out to the coast 

He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees a ghost 

Well if your world was all black and if your world was all white 

Well then you wouldn't get much color out of life now right 

Nicknamed Shamrock but my name is not Shamus 

Girlies on the tippy cause my homie is famous 

My name is not O'Houigheighi nor is it Brian 

If I said that I was weak now, you know I'd be lyin' 

Suckers try to bite they try to pursue it 

You explain to a musician, they know it but they can't do it 

I got Chinese eyes and Chinese suits 

Smokin' much Buddha and smokin' much boots 

More updated on the hip-hop lingo 

My favorite New York Knick was Hawthorne Wingo 

Met a girl at a party and I gave her my card 

Man, you know that it said Napoleon Bonaparte 

Peepin' out the colors I be buggin' on Cezanne 

They call me Mike D Joe Blow the Lover Man 

Your face turns red as your glass of wine 

That you spilled on my lyrics as you wasted my time 

You should be with me, you should drop that bum 

'Cause I got more flavor than Fruit Striped Gum 

With that big round butt of yours 

I'd like to butter your muffin I'm not bluffin' 

Serve you on a platter like Thanksgiving stuffin' 

Here's another one for y'all to peep 

It's called M-I-K-E on the M-I-C 

I met this girl last night with a peculiar cackle 

I laid the bait and then she took the tackle 

Had too much to drink at the Red Lobster 

Now the room is spinning around like the blades of a helicopter 

I never met a girl that was too finicky 

If the press has their way then they're going to finish me 

You might know this but you've never been this see 

If I ate spinach then I'd be called Spinach D 

I shed light like cats shed fur 

Ride around town like Raymond Burr 

I'm so high that they call me Your Highness 

So if you don't know me then pardon my shyness 

I live in the Village wherever I go I walk to 

I keep my friends around so I have someone to talk to 

I play my music loud because you know it's got clout to it 

It's a trip it's got a funky beat and I can bug out to it 

DJ Hurricane 

When Mike D's in the house, what you gonna do 

I go AWOL 

Adrock's in the house, what you gonna do 

I go AWOL 

When MCA's in the house, what you gonna do 

I go AWOL 

When Hurricane's in the house, what you gonna do 

He goes AWOL 

St. James in the house, what's you gonna do 

Home-1, what you gonna do 

Got busy in the house, what you gonna do 

Dust Bros. in the house, what you gonna do 

Warren G. in the house, what you gonna do 

Lou Gains in the house, what you gonna do 

Hollis crew, what you gonna do 

John Mish in the house, what you gonna do 

Killa Cutty in the house, what you gonna do 

Jannet J. in the house 

Pat Bain's in the house 

Richard Consen's in the house 

Good night Amsterdamn 

Now I want you all to break this down 

To all the girls 

All the girls