Beastie Boys - Week 9 lyrics

[Verse 1:] Everybody follow me, I'm on this journey In which my mind is not discerning What's real or not, let's steal some pot And light this joint up till we feel the shock Let it travel through your body, kick it like you knew karate I wanna rock and rob the ba** from junior parties Who's your daddy? Who's your mommy? Point me at her, she a hottie I think she wanna climb on top of me, Lodi Dodi Call me Slick Rick, girls jumping on this big dick She put on lipstick to kiss on my tip lips "Ugh, CiNo, that's nasty, it's ig'nant" Just remember, I am just a figment Of your imagination, a soul a**a**ination What you think I say, what's all this fascination With the opposite of you? The darkest interlude You doubt the sh** has power, but the prophecies are true Living in this world of thieves, liars and k**ers You'll desire to finish, to retire, just end it I breathe fire, diminish your requirements printed I feel higher, ascended to reach clouds in the heavens When I shout, you get a heavy sensation of damnation You pace in the damn place, I patiently am anxious Ain't you ready to die? You telling lies? I'll severe you, knives Shredder you up, I'm like Freddy Kreuga' Now I'll tone it down a second, I'm totally down for wreckin' Another beat for the week like Mortal Kombat or Tekken I thought about it a second, I'm for Hip-Hop's protection Representing development of the flow to perfection Listening to me in any vicinity You're plenty gonna receive remedy energies, here's... [Verse 2:] CiNo is Off The Grid! What you cannot forbid, my flow is not for bid This beat sounds like we on a rocket ship So do what you want, you can't stop the trip I'm the architect, on the mark, get set, go The shells go through your armor, armadillos You taking prescription pills like popping Menthos You should chill and follow your doctor's set dose Use your Logos to protect your Ethos from your Pathos Sometimes you gotta let go In saving this generation, I'm orchestral If you a radio-jingle rapper, I detest yo Piss-poor music blows my dick grows, then spits flows That twist yours with insults, I'm this close to lynch foes I'm outstanding sitting indoors, smoking on that indo Your lady under my prick, so hence ho, you a bimbo The info's self-explanatory, you fake like the Santa story I'm reaching to where you can't ignore me, catapulting categories Too new like Hulu, but who knew how huge you'd Be on the scene, I mean you flew through YouTube