The New Style Lyrics - Licensed To Ill - Beastie Boys

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 

Be-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 

Stepped into the party, the place was over packed 

Saw the kid that dissed my home boy 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 Aids 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 kinds I like 

I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike 

My father, he's jealous 'cause I'm making that green 

I've got the girlie's numbers from the places I 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 I 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 

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 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 

Hmm 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