Beastie Boys - Finger Lickin’ Good lyrics

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 money 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 buds than my man Paul Bunyon's

I've been going nuts gettin' cooped up

Fully hermitizing but now I'm getting souped up

It's time to turn on 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 you 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 million ideas that I ain't even rocked

I've got the light bulb flashing on 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 'cause it's gotta be like that

A snare on the funky tin and the taste of 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 thinkin' 'bout beats

And gettin' on the mic and busting some treats

And sporting the crazy funky threads that you never ever seen before

What I'm lacking from macking I can find at the thrift store

I won't scuff nor scuffle just grin as I 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