Beastie Boys - Ch-Check It Out lyrics
[Beastie Boys - Ch-Check It Out lyrics]
All you Trekkies and TV addicts
Don't mean to diss
Don't mean to bring static
All you Klingons in the fucking house
Grab your backstreet friend and get loud
Blowin' doors off hinges
I'll grab you with the pinchers
And no, I didn't retire
I'll snatch you up with a needle nose pliers
Like Mutual of Omaha
Got the ill boat you've never seen before
Glidin' in the glades
And like Lorne Greene, you know I get paid
Like caprese and with the basil
Not goofy like Darrin or Hazel
I'm a motherfuckin' Nick at Nite
With classics rerunning that you
Know all right
Now remain calm, no alarm
'Cause my farm ain't fat
So what's up with that?
I've got friends and family that I respect
When I think I'm too good
They put me in check
So believe when I say I'm no better than you
Except when I rap, so I guess it ain't true
Like that, y'all, and you just don't stop
Guaranteed to make your body rock
Check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out
What-wha-what-what-what's it all about
Work-wa-work-work-work-wa-work it out
Let's turn this muthafucking party out
I said, "Doc, what's the condition?
I'm a man that's on a mission"
He said, "Son, you'd better listen
Stuck in your ass is an electrician"
Like a scientist mmm, when I'm applying this
Method of controlling my mind
Like Einstein and the Rapping Duke combined
Now, hey baby bubba, now what's the deal?
I didn't know you go for that mass appeal
Some call it salugi, some hot potato
I stole your mic, but you won't see it later
'Cause, I work magic like a magician
I add up, the mathematician
I'm a bank cashier, engineer
I wear cotton and I don't wear sheer
Shazam and abracadabra
In the whip, I'm gonna cruise past ya
Yo, money, don't chump yourself
Put that shit back on the shelf
Light rays blazing, you're out of phase
And my crew's amazing
We're working on the record, yo
So just stay patient
Check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out
What-wha-what-what-what's it all about
Work-wa-work-work-work-wa-work it out
Let's turn this motherfucking party out
Check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out
Check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out
Check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out
Check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out
Now, I go by the name of the King Ad-Rock
I don't wear a cup nor a jock
I bring the shit that's beyond bizarre
Like Miss Piggy (Who, moi?)
I am the one with the clientele
You say, "Ad-Rock, you rock so well"
I've got class like pink champale
MCA, grab the mic before the mic goes stale
Don't test me, they can't arrest me
I'll fake right, cross-over and shoot lefty
You look upset, yo, calm down
You look like Cable Guy dunked
Off of your crown
I flow like smoke out a chimney
You never been me you wanna rap but what
You're making ain't Hip-Hop, b
Now- get your clothes right out the dryer
Put Armor All up on your tire
Sport that fresssssh attire
Tonight we goin' out, set the town on fire
Set the town ablaze gonna stun and amaze
Ready to throw a craze
Make your granny shake her head and
Say "those were the days"
Now check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it
Out what-wha-what-what-what's it all about
Work-wa-work-work-work-wa-work it out
Let's turn this motherfucking party out