Hold It Now, Hit It (Acapulco)

Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!
Ahh, yeah, yeah, yeah
Why don't you hook up that def jam right about now?

Now I chill real ill when I start to chill
When I fill my pockets with a knot of dollar bills
Sipping pints of ale out the window sill
When I get my fill I'm chilly-chill
And now, I just got home because I'm out on bail
What's the time? It's time to buy ale
Peter eater, parking meter, all of the time
If I run out of ale, it's Thunderbird wine
Miller drinking, chicken eating, dress so sly
I got friends in high places that are keeping me high
Get down with Mike D and it ain't no hassle
I got the ladies of the eighties from here to White Castle

Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!
It's my drum, it's my, hold it now, it's my rhyme

MC Adam Yauch, in the place to be
All the girls are on me 'cause I'm down with Mike D
I'm down with Mike D, and it ain't no baloney
For real, not phony, O.E. and Rice-a-Roni
I come out at night 'cause I sleep all day
Well, I'm the King Ad-Rock and he's MCA
Well, I'm cruisin', I'm bruisin', I'm never ever losing
I'm in my car, I'm going far, and dust is what I'm using
Around the way is where I'm from
And I'm from Manhattan, and I'm not a bum
Because you're pud-slapping, ball-flapping, got that juice
My name's Mike D and I can do that Jerry Lewis

Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!
Yo, that was real def man, try that again, man
I like that def stuff, boy

Hip-hoppin', body rockin', doin' the do
Beer drinking, breath stinking, sniffing glue
Belly fillin', always illin', bustin' caps
My name's Mike D, and I write my own snaps
I'm a peep-show seeking on the Forty-Deuce
I'm a killer at large, and I'm on the loose
Pistol packing, Monkey drinking, no money bum
I come from Brooklyn 'cause that's where I'm from
Cheap-skatin', perpetrating, money-hungry jerk
Every day I drink O.E., and I don't go to work
You drippy nose knucklehead, you're wet behind the ears
You like men and we like beer

Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!
Bust that choco-lotto
What, huh, yo, man, pass that over here, man, all right

King of the Ave with the Def female
You're rhymin' and stealin' with the freshest ale
Kid cooling at the crib watching my TV
Ed Norton - Ted Knight - and Mr. E-D
Pump it up, homeboy, just don't stop
Chef Boyardee, cooling on the pot
I take no slack, 'cause I got the knack
I'm never dusting out 'cause I tossed that crack
The King Ad-Rock — that is my name
Y'all drinking Moet, and we got the champagne
A quarter droppin', going shoppin', buyin' wigs
Surgeon general, cut professor, DJ Thigs

Hold it now, hit it
Hit it
Hit it
Yo, Leroy!