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 Writer/s: Adam Keefe Horovitz, Adam Yauch, John King, Matt Dike, Michael Louis Diamond, Michael Simpson
Publisher: BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind