Beastie Boys Finger Lickin` Good Lyrics

Finger Lickin` Good Lyrics

(Beastie Boys/Caldato/Fite/Hill) 

     So Mike D what's up? yo yauch what's up? come on Mike let's 
     Tear it up hear no evil see no evil talking no bullshit so many
     Damn people are so damn full of it keyboard Money Mark you 
     Know he's not having it just give him some wood and he'll build
     You a cabinet I'm convinced that Vince is ripping me off i think it's
     His girdle that's tipping me off Mike D's out back and he's growing 
     Onions I've got bigger buns than my man Paul Bunyon's I've been
     Going nuts gettin' all cooped up fully hermitizing but now I'm
     Getting souped up it's time to turn the page to a brand new 
     Chapter setting my sights and you know what I'm after I'll be in
     The paper the news with Ernie Ernesto they'll even print my 
     Recipe for pasta with pesto now here's another special of the day
     I've got more spice than the Frugal Gourmet

     Well Mike D what got for me show these good people what it 
     Means to be D well they call me Mike D with the mad man style I put
     The mic up to my lips and I can scream for a while created a sound
     At which many were shocked I've got a million ideas that I ain't
     Even rocked I've got the light bulb flashing at the top of my head
     Never wake up on the wrong side of the bed you're an idea man
     Not a yes man with a point to make you're bound to take a stand
     'Cause I'm Pete The Puma Minnie The Moocher got every type of
     Flavor that will suit ya you know the bass is real fat because it's
     Gotta be like that a snare on the funky tin and a taste of the high hat

     Yo Yauch what's up? Mike D what's up? Come on Yauch, let's tear
     It up I could catch a groove like a flash in the dark grab a hold of
     Your attention like a thief in the park 'cause I can flip a rhyme
     Off the tip of my tongue switching up the rhythm like the 
     Rhyme's a piece of chewing gum now I might chew but I don't bite
     My ideas are mine when I begin to write in my sleep I'll be thinking
     'Bout beats and getting on the mic and busting some treats and
     Sporting the crazy funky threads that you've never even seen 
     Before what i'm lacking from the macking I can find at the Thrift
     Store I won't scuff nor scuffle just grin as they walk by take time
     To rhyme for a girl I hear talk fly down some papaya
     Down with the revolution always wear my goggles 'cause there's
     So much pollution I can do The Freak, The Patty Duke and The Spank
     Gotta free the funky fish from the funky fish tanks
     I'll sell my house, sell my car and I'll sell all my stuff
     "I'm going back to new york city I do believe I've had enough"