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BEASTIE BOYS lyrics : "Too Many Rappers"

Featuring: Nas

Mic check, mic check


One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's still not enough emcees

It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done like


Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out

So if you got somethin' on your mind, let it out

Yo, I been in the game since before you was born

I might still be emceein' even after you're gone
Strange thought, I know, but my skills still grow
The 80's, the 90's, 2000's, and so


On and on until the crack of dawn
Until the year 3000 and beyond

Stay up all night, and I emcee and never die
'Cause death is the cousin of sleep


Because I'm back with a bang boogie, oogie oogie
Strawberry letter 23 like Shuggie
Oh, my God, just look at me

Grandpa been rappin' since '83

Oh, I'm supersonic like J.J. Fad

Got crazy $$# %#@! pullin' out the bag
Don't forget the tartar sauce, yo, 'cause it's sad
All these crap rappers, they're rappin' like crabs


I have carte blanche, the vagabond
Nas is the narcissist, my pockets are rotund

I'm no killa, but compared to you, I'm more real'a
You ain't a shot, a mobster, or a drug dealer


A slug peeler, you're not, mafioso, no
You ain't got the cutthroat in ya, beginner
I ain't tryin' to hear your racket

You work with police dog, you snitch, you rat, you wear that jacket

How many rappers must get dissed

Gimme eight bars, and watch me bless this
I start to reminisce, oh, when I miss
The real hip hop with which I persist


Like rum in mojitos, bullets and banditos
Matzah balls in soup, jackets and troop

Yes, y'all, this is one for the history books
Nasty Nas, what's the word, count it off on the hook


Let's go! One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's still not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one

MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done like

Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the house

With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, let it out


'Cause this the type of lyric goes inside your brain
To blow you bull%#@! rappers straight out the frame

My lyrics spin round like a hurricane twister
So get your hologram on off of Wolf Blitzer


Too many rappers to shake a stick at
I outta charge a tax for every weak rap
I had to listen to 'cause we be makin' stacks

Like Stax Records, my squad we gotta pack, we never coming whack

To all you crab rappers and hackers

And Circuit Fenders, two-tone splendor
I take the cake, I stole the mold

The golden microphone, well that's mine to hold
And why all these biters all up in my crotch space?

Sniffin', puffin', huffin', and mean muggin' with a Blimpie Bluffin
Back up off me, sucka, you ain't sayin' nothin'

I'm broader than Broadway, I was in project hallways
Dual tape recorder, lacin' oratorials all day

I'm just getting started on this beat, this is foreplay
And when this song finished, y'all can sing along with this

By the way, I have a strong fetish for Christian Louboutin steppers
I hear Russian blonde's the wettest

But anyway, I better pay homage to my fellas
And that's what's on my mind and the rhyme, who's next up?

Mike D, the man of mystery
History in the makin', and now we're takin'

Titles, awards, and accolades
Scarin' the competition as I sharpen my blades

We come together like peanut butter and sandwiches
Like pen and paper, like Picasso and canvases
Rockin' stadiums and %#@!ty bars

Go back in time, send a fax from my car

One, one, two, two, three, three
Too many rappers, and there's still not enough emcees
It goes three, three, two, two, one, one
MCA, Ad-Rock, Mike D, that's how we get it done like


Ladies and gents attention, Nas in the house
With Beastie Boys, we can turn it out
Perpetrators, we can point 'em out
So if you got somethin' on your mind, let it out

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