Professor Booty
Beastie Boys Song Lyrics

Yes, I got more bounce to the fuckin' bumpAnd then you want to knowWhy it's cause I'm motherfuckin' truckin'I'm in the pocket just like Grady TateI got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait'Cause I'm the master blasterDrinking up the shastaMy voice sounds sweet 'cause it has toSo light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blown upI'd like to thank the people for just showin' upBut now I want y'all to move itPut your point on the floor and just prove itAnd I'm smurfin not rehearsin' gettin' live y'allA little puffy so you know what I'm doin' right'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm inI got this feelin' and it's back againSo don't touch me 'cause I'm electricAnd if you touch me you'll get shocked!You've got the boomin' system But it's blasting out doo-dooYou think it's chocolate milk But it's watered down yoo-hooI've been through many times In which I thought I might lose itThe only thing that saved me Has always been musicWe've got our own studio the son of the GIt's no question life's been good to me'Cause life ain't nothing but a good grooveA good mix tape to put you in the right moodThis one goes out to my man the Groove MerchantComing through with beats For which I've been searchingLike two sealed copies of expansionsI'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansionsThe logo I sport is the face of the monkeyUnion made Ben Davis quality it's no junk seeMy chrome is shining just like an icicleI ride around town on my low-rider bicycleSo many wack M.C.'s You get the T.V. bozackAin't even gonna call out your names 'Cause you're so wackBut one big oaf whose faker than plasticA dictionary definition of the word spasticYou should have never started something That you couldn't finish'Cause writin' rhymes to me Is like Popeye to spinachI'm bad ass move your fat ass 'Cause you're wack sonDancin' around like you think you're Janet JacksonThought you could walk on me To get some ground to walk onI'll put the rug out under your ass As I talk onI'll take you out like a sniper on a roofLike an M.C. at the fever in the D.J. boothWith your headphones strapped You're rockin' rewind pauseTryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yoursBut like the pencil to the paper I got more to comeOne after another you can all get someSo you getter take your time And meditate on your rhyme'Cause your shit'll be stinking When I go for mineAnd that's right y'all don't get uptight y'allYou can't say shit Because you're biting what I write y'allAnd that's wrong y'all over the long haulYou can't cut the mustard When you're fronting it all