So Mike D. what's up? Yo Yauch what's [bad word] on, Mike let's tear it up
Hear no evil see no evil talkin' no [bad word] So many [bad word] people are so [bad word] full of it
Keyboard money mark you know he's not havin' it
Just give him some money and he'll build you a cabinet

I'm convinced that Vince is rippin' me off
I think it's his girdle that's tippin' me off
Mike D's out back and he's growin' onions
I've got bigger buds than my man Paul Bunyon's

I've been goin' nuts gettin' all cooped up
Fully hermitizin' but now I'm gettin' souped up
It's time to turn on a brand new chapter
Settin' 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
You see I've got more spice than the [bad word] gourmet

Mike D? Huh?
What you got for me?
Show these good people what it means to be 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 flashin' 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 because it's gotta be like that
See I snare on the funky chair and the taste of high hat

Yo, Yauch what's up? Mike D. what's [bad word] on Yauch, well let's tear it up
I'd like to catch a groove like a flash in the dark
I'll grab a hold of your attention like a thief in the park

'Cuz I can flip a rhyme off the tip of my tongue
Yeah, I'd be switchin' 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 bustin' some treats

And sportin' the crazy funky threads that you never ever seen before
What I'm lackin' from mackin' 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 'cuz 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 goin' back to New York city I do believe I've had enough"