Shadrach - Beastie Boys, Peanut Butter Wolf

Riddle me this, my brother -- can you handle it?

Your style to my style, you can’t hold a candle to it

Equinox symmetry and the balance is right

Smokin' and drinkin' on a Tuesday night

It’s not how you play the game, it’s how you win it

I cheat and steal and sin, and I’m a cynic

For those about to rock, we salute you

The dirty thoughts for dirty minds we contribute to

I once was lost, but now I’m found

The music washes over, and you’re one with the sound

Well, who shall inherit the earth?

The meek shall

And, yo, I think I’m starting to peak now, Al

And the man upstairs, well, I hope that he cares

If I had a penny for my thoughts, I’d be a millionaire

We’re just three emcees, and we’re on the go

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego!

Only 24 hours in a day, only 12 notes, well, a man can play

Music for all, but not just one people

And now we’re gonna bust with the Putney Swope sequel

More Adidas sneakers than a plumber’s got pliers

Got more suits than Jacoby & Meyers

If not for my vices, and my bugged-out desires

My year would be good just like Goodyear’s tires

Cause I’m out picking pockets at the Atlantic Antic

And nobody wants to hear you because your rhymes are damn frantic

I mix business with pleasure way too much

You know -- wine and women and song and such

I don’t get blue -- I got a mean red streak

You don’t pay the band, your friends, yo, that’s weak

Get even like Steven like pulling a Rambo

Well, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego!

Steal from the rich, and I’m out robbing banks

Givin' to the poor, and I always give thanks

Because I’ve got more stories than J.D.'s got Salinger

I hold the title, and you are the challenger

I’ve got money like Charles Dickens

I’ve got the girlies in the Coupe like the Colonel’s got the chickens

And I’m always going out dapper like Harry S. Truman

I’m madder than Mad’s Alfred E. Newman

(Never gonna let them say that I don’t love you)

Well, my noggin is hoggin' all kinds of thoughts

And Adam Yoggin is Yauch, and he’s rockin' of course

Smoke the holy chalice, got my own religion

Rally round the stage and check the funky dope musicians

Like Jerry Lee Swaggart or Jerry Lee Falwell

You love Mario Andretti cause he always drives his car well

Vicious circle of reality since the day you were born

And we love the hot butter on what?

The popcorn

Sippin' on wine and mackin'

Rockin' on the stage with all the hands clappin'

Ride the wave of fate, it don’t ride me, Homes

(Being very proud to be an MC)

And the man upstairs, well, I hope that he cares

If I had a penny for my thoughts, I’d be a millionaire

Amps and crossovers under my rear hood

Because the bass is bumping from the back of my Fleetwood

They tell us what to do?

Hell, no!

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (no)

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego