Beastie Boys - Check Your Head

It's finger lickin', finger lickin' good, y'all
Finger lickin', a finger lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger lickin' good, y'all

Lickin'-lickin', uh
Lickin'-lickin', uh
Lickin'-lickin', uh
Lickin'-lickin', uh

Well, Mike D, what's up?
Yo, Yauch, what up?
Come on, Mike, let's tear it up
Hear no evil, see no evil, talkin' no bullshit
So many damn people are so damn full of it
Keyboard Money Mark, you know he ain't havin' it
Just give him some wood 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
Well, Mike D's out back and he's growin' onion
I've got bigger buns than my man Paul Bunyon's
I've been going nuts gettin' all cooped up
Fully hermitizing but now I'm gettin' souped up
It's time to turn the page to a brand new chapter
Settin' my sights and you know what I'm after
I'll be in the paper, the news with Ernie Anastos
They'll even print my recipe for pasta with pesto
Now here's another special of the day
See, I've got more spice than the Frugal Gourmet

It's finger lickin', finger lickin' good, y'all
Finger lickin', a finger lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', finger lickin' good, y'all

Lickin'-lickin', uh
Lickin'-lickin', uh
Lickin'-lickin', uh
Lickin'-lickin', uh

Well, Mike D (huh), what you got for me?
Show these good people what it means to be D
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 at
I've got a million ideas that I ain't even rocked yet
I've got the light bulb flashing at 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
I've got every type of flavor style that will suit ya
You know the bass is real fat, because it's gotta be like that
A snare on the funky tin, and a taste of the high hat

Finger lickin', finger lickin' good, y'all
Finger lickin', a finger lickin' good, y'all
It's finger lickin', it's finger lickin' good, y'all
A finger lickin', a lickin', lickin' good, y'all

Yo, Yauch, what up?
Mike D, what's up?
Come on, Yauch, let's tear it up
Well, I could catch a groove like a flash in the dark
I grab ahold of your attention like a thief in the park
'Cause I can flip a rhyme off the tip of my tongue
Yeah, I be switching 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 thinking 'bout beats and
Getting on the mic and bustin' some treats and
Sporting the crazy funky threads that you've never even seen before
What I'm lacking from the macking I can find at the thrift store
I won't scuff nor scuffle, just grin as they walk by
Take time to rhyme for a girl I hear talk fly
Down some papaya, down with the revolution
Always wear my goggles 'cause there's so much pollution
Well, 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 going back to New York City, I do believe I've had enough

Whipped-whipped-whipped cream
Whipped-whipped-whipped cream

We're gonna be out of her in a minute
So this one goes out to my man Mario C
My brother Adrock cuttin' it up on the turntable
Yeah, finger lickin' good, y'all
DJ Hurricane is finger lickin' good, y'all