B-Boys Makin’ with the Freak Freak

[Intro]
Saklig
Ahh, yeah

[Chorus]
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak (oh-oh)
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak (somethin' brand new for you)
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak

[Verse 1]
Yeah, yeah
Puttin' songs together ain't no puzzle like Yahtzee
Sending this one out to K-Rob and Rammellzee
Well, let me introduce myself on this cut (Woo)
I'm Ad-Rock, I'm lit like a motherfuck
Well, I'm brewing up rhymes like I was using a still
Kickin' it old school flow like Mike McGill
'Cause Yauch's on the upright, the shit just ain't funny
Got fat bass lines like Russell Simmons steals money
Got clientele, you know I rock well
And then you're on my dick because I'm DFL
Yeah, Mike, 'cause playing the bass is my favorite shit
I might be a hack on the stand up, but I'm working at it
I got my hair cut correct like Anthony Mason
Then I ride the IRT right up to Penn Station (Yeah, huh)
Penn Station, up on 8th Ave
Listen, all y'all, you get the ball back
He's got the savior faire because he's debonair
Well, Mike D with the vinyl, with the grooves so rare
And the rhymes that we're kickin' are doo-doo

[Chorus]
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak
Shit, if this is gonna be that kind of party, I'm gonna stick my dick in the mashed potatoes
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak

[Verse 2]
Been makin' with the freak freak, so unique
I been learning from the elders, now it's time to speak
Oh, that shit sounds nice
Mike D, come on and get it on, y'all
Talking shit about a mile a minute
Put the wax on the table and let the DJ spin it
Well, excuse me, motherfuckers, can I beg your pardon?
I'm gonna see the Knicks at the Madison Square Garden
And like the Knicks, I got game like I worked at Hasbro
On the mic I bug, like I was Prince Jazzbo
Well, the rhymes are stupid to make you go cuckoo
You can't sleep 'cause you're Cindy Lou Who
Down with the Hurra since the Raising Hell Tour
Just listen to his cuts, there's no reason to tell more (Yeah)
Cindy what? I didn't catch the last one
That shit sounded kinda nice, but bust a fast one
Well, I'm not known for my speed raps
So grab the microphone and cut out the claps
Ah, yeah, I like that, shit is kind of rough
I'll grab the microphone and fuck it up
(Aight, woo!)

[Verse 3]
Well, I might seem out there, just a little deranged
I've got to cool off, catch me on the driving range
Well I'm the ladies' choice like I was JJ Evans
Legalize the weed, and I'll say, "Thank heavens!"
I'm talking PGA Pro Tour 2
I'm Doctor Beepers on the tv, in my golfing shoes
Aww, pass me an iron, and I'll bust a chip shot
Then you throw me off the green 'cause I'm strictly hip-hop (Yeah)
I'll grab the tee, I'll tee off
I'll grab the golf clubs, and I'm off, I'm Audi, so check me
I've got the Timbos on my toes when I'm on the green
I've got the custom-made boots with the spikey things
I'm working on my driving 'cause I'm going pro
I've got the funky fly golf gear from head to toe
Yeah, the B-Boys makin' with the freak freak 'cause it's unique unique
Mario's calling Nonni's about the pesto pizza
And then he's on a mission, and he's checking for peacha

[Chorus]
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak
B-Boys makin' with the freak freak