Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Professor Booty, artist - Beastie Boys. Date of issue: 20.04.1992
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Professor Booty |
| «Yo I don’t hang out with those guys, man, I ain’t got nothing to do with those |
| dudes.» |
| «Wait a minute, I saw your female with 'em, too. |
| What’s up with her? |
| I’ve been hearin' that she been givin' that stuff out to ALL them graffiti |
| guys.» |
| «Yo, shut the fuck up, Chico, man!» |
| «I could paint three of those murals for some of that ass.» |
| «Professor, what’s another word for 'pirate treasure'?» |
| «Well, I think it’s 'booty'. |
| Booty, booty, that’s what it is.» |
| Yes, I got more bounce than the fucking bump |
| And then you want to know why |
| Because I’m motherfuckin' truckin' |
| I’m in the pocket just like Grady Tate |
| Got supplies of beats so you don’t have to wait |
| Cause I’m the master blaster, drinking up the Shasta |
| My voice sounds sweet cause it has to |
| So light a match to my ass cause I’m blowin' up |
| I’d like to thank the people for just showin' up |
| But now I want y’all to move it |
| Put your point on the floor and just prove it |
| And I’m smurfin', not rehearsin', gettin' live, y’all |
| A little puffy, so you know what, I’m doin' right |
| Cause that’s the kind of frame of mind I’m in |
| I got this feelin' that it’s back again |
| So don’t touch me, cause I’m electric |
| And if you touch me, you’ll get shocked |
| You got, you got, you got, you got, you got |
| You’ve got the boomin' system, but it’s sloshing out doo-doo |
| You think it’s chocolate milk, but it’s watered down Yoo-hoo |
| I’ve been through many times in which I thought I might lose it |
| The only thing that saved me, has always been music |
| We’ve got our own studio, the Son of the G |
| It’s no question, life’s been good to me |
| Cause life ain’t nothing but a good groove |
| A good mixtape to put ya in the right mood |
| This one goes out to my man, the Groove Merchant |
| Coming through with beats for which I’ve been searching |
| Like two sealed copies, of expansions |
| I’m like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions |
| The logo I sport is the face of the monkey |
| Union made, Ben Davis-quality, it’s no junk, see? |
| My chrome is shining, just like an icicle |
| I ride around town on my low-rider bicycle |
| So many wack emcees, you get the TV bozak |
| Ain’t even gonna call out your names, cause you’re so wack |
| And one big oaf, who’s faker than plastic |
| A dictionary definition of the word spastic |
| You should have never started something that you couldn’t finish |
| Cause writin' rhymes to me is like Popeye to spinach |
| I’m bad ass, move ya fat ass, cause you’re wack, son |
| Dancing around like you think you’re Janet Jackson |
| Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on |
| I’ll put the rug out under your ass as I talk on |
| I’ll take you out like a sniper on a roof |
| Like an emcee at the fever in the DJ booth |
| With your headphones strapped, you’re rockin' rewind/pause |
| Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours |
| But like a pencil to the paper, I got more to come |
| One after another, you can all get some |
| So you better take your time and meditate on your rhyme |
| Cause your shit’ll be stinkin' when I go for mine |
| And that’s right, y’all, don’t get uptight, y’all |
| You can’t say shit because you’re biting what I write, y’all |
| And that’s wrong, y’all, over the long haul |
| You can’t cut the mustard when you’re fronting it all |
| (it all, it all, it all…) |