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Artist :Beastie Boys
Album :Hot Sauce Committee Part 2
Title :

Too Many Rappers


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 ass shit 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 bullshit 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 shitty 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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