B-Boys Makin’ With the Freak Freak Songtext
von Beastie Boys

Saklig, ah, yeah

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

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, this 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)
Penn Station, up on 8th Ave

Listen all of y′all, you get the ball back
He's got Savoir 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

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

Been bakin′ with the freak-freak, so unique
I've 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, let the DJ spin it
Well, excuse me, motherfuckers, can I beg your pardon?
I′m gonna see the Knicks up at 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 ya claps
Ah, yeah, I like the shit, it's kind of rough
I′ll grab the microphone and fuck it up

A'ight

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
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 team 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 not 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-nique
Mario′s calling Nonni 'bout the pesto pizza
And then he′s on a mission and he's checking for peacha

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