Well how you feelin' Ad Rock? Well I'm feelin' well

Bonafide, qualified, with a story to tell


Well how feelin' Mike D? Well I feel all good


All day is how we play in the neighborhood




Well how you feelin' MCA? Well I feel right


I swing my words on the track 'cause the track sound tight

So if you're feelin' good and you're feelin' right


Uh, somebody step up and grab the mic




Well hello everybody and how you been?


It's Ad Rock rappin' on the microphone again


I got grace, class, style, finesse and debonaire

Murderize mother$#&@ers 'cause I just don't care





The MC whisperer, kinda like a trainer

I take sucker rappers, I put 'em through a strainer


Like macaroni 'cause the %#@! sound cheesy


Watch how it's done boy, it looks easy




The nonstop, goin' off, kingpin, microphone boss


Do my own thing, you can't afford the cost

Of my fly styles that complete the turnstile


'Cause it's live and direct, and I'm wiggidy wild




Now put you back on the floor, I got total control


I flow like the water out your toilet bowls


Your style is cheap boy, just like the Dutch

You know you're not smokin' on the microphone much





There's a certain special talent that I never lack

Ha-ha! And that's a fact


'Cause we shine like the chrome on a Cadillac


You better break a wishbone 'cause we never waxin'




Then we never that, and that is that


And we're the nonstop disco powerpack

Uh, that's right, we go all night


Who gonna be next to bless the mic?




Now this is the way we run it down

We're gettin' you high on the funky sound

This is the way we get it on


B-Boys in the house 'til the break of dawn




See I mix my style up like a cement mixer

Smooth'll fix ya like a rhyme elixir

Hey yo yo soundman, make Mike's mic louder


Don't make me sound cheap like a box of douche powder



I'll max and relax, champagne, no ego


Don't go commando, don't know bandito

Je m'appelle Michel, Paris nord

We were born in the chateau, we got it goin' on




Quincy's in the hot tub like it's '73

Lookin' over his shoulder and he's lookin' at me

I'm up right in the face, towel around my waist


What's up with that watch inside the glass case?

I go to make my move, sneak out the place

Undetected, not leavin' a trace




Party's done, microphone track

Rhyme's been jumped, and head's been checked

I see one last profiterol, I make my play


And pass the microphone to MCA



Nonstop, from the top


When you clock, then we rock

Them not kickin', them not stickin', we be makin' hip hop

So c'mon everybody get down



Now there's a spot check, get the deck count down

'Cause I'ma break it down for ya how we burn it down

Pound for pound, keep the basslines round

See you watchin', clockin', jockin' my sound



Before I got big I grew up with hip hop

Still got mad love for a record called Beat Rock

It mean a lot spinnin' on my Walkman

Shout out to the Afrika Bam'



And to the X to the P the double-O-N-Y

The one MC, who you can't deny

At least he threw me records that made heads fly

Sit down to write and the pen blazed fire



Construct a rhyme with specific intent

Flippin' all the braincells right to the pen

And then I put the root down when I pull the mic

Words flowin' so cold, turn water to ice



Come through the wire such a break to tape

You put me in the mix like set up at the plate

And then they press it on wax, sell it in the store

The DJ's spin it, kick it out on the dancefloor

Comin' through the speaker to shake your eardrum

Braincells get with it make you hear where we're from



Ad Rock, huh, get it on

We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn

Now Mike D, huh, get it on

We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn

And MCA, yeah, get it on

We gonna rock the house until the break of dawn

Beastie Boys in the house, don't stop