Turn that shit off, man, what's wrong with you, man?
You know we got a party, man, get the other record
(Here we go)
One more time

It's the M-I-K-E, ooh, to the D
I'm comin' exquisite and V.I.p.
Tryin' to spread some love like roots on a tree
Stayin' true to this vision in the Y2G
Two G's got 'em scratchin' it like the fleas
And Ad Rock got it locked like a crooked cop
Now, it's Ad Rock, y'all remember me?
The guy ya bit ya style from off the TV
I score Mmmma-Zah-Ayy's all day
My essays are felt worldwide
We like four planets on the mic (uh)
Aligned arrays retired all in the days
Game (baby, baby), too blam for these lames
Yes, when I was nine, I played with slime
Got rhymes ga-lot, got rhymes ga-limes
I got a million like rhymes leavin' ya stung
I got my own crew called the Nasal Tongue
Yo, take a few of these B-boys and call me in the mornin' (okay)
Keep it on the crusty eye, bagel with some butterflies
Spit gritty like we in MCA's voice box
Y'all bull and my ox don't fit the mix

(Disc jock) it be some classic material, kid
(Disc jock) got the calm cats blowin' their lid
(Disc jock) you get plush off the rack
And buy plenty or more we got 'em by the stack
(Disc jock) got us walkin' all over the world
For all the fly fellas and all the fly girls
(Disc jock) you can't get enough when we servin' this

Come on, squat, come on, squat
Come on, squat, come on, squat (hey)
Come on, squat, come on, squat
Come on, squat, come on, squat
Come on

Now we'd like to introduce to you, Ad Rock

Ad Rock in the house, you don't stop
It's the B-E-A-S-T-I-E B-O-Y-S with the most finesse
Don't mean to be crude, don't mean to be crass
But listen, Guiliani, you can kiss my ass (what?)
You heard my word, now Dove you play the preacher (uh-huh)
Get on the mic if you love all the creatures
Well, yeah, I got these fishes swimmin' 'round my barracuda
Back in '82 I used to ride a street scooter
Called 'em cuter than pigtails, sales you keep 'em level, and
Smack you with a shovel and break your lifestyle (ow!
Firm on the mic since my days of a child
Got a license to ill to flash to police
The only beast I huddles with the Beastie Boys
Bringin' noise like P.E. To your TV (ayo)
This beat's barefoot and knock-kneed, stripped to the rhyme
And every line made from scratch
Attached like stripes to shell-toes
Thin spools that hold the herb
Mike, what's the word? (Word)
It's like a ooh-la-la, ooh-ooh-la-la
Rhymin' over old breaks like the Mardis Gras
Party people 'cross the globe, they go, "Ooh," and they, "Ahh"
And Mike D and Ad Rock down with the De La

(Disc jock) get the people dancin' for real
(Disc jock) be the (jock) holdin' mass appeal
(Disc jock) you can't get enough still
So here's another dose for you to feel, put ya body in it

Come on, squat, come on, squat
Come on, squat, come on, squat
Come on, squat, come on, squat
Come on, squat, come on, squat
Come on

I'm feelin' good, damn good but also confused
This stuff from Hip-Hop that's bein' misused
It's desirin', acquirin', tryin' to be like Iverson
If it means backstabbin' and also conspirin'
Now, the people in the front, you do the bump, bump
The people in the back, they're not the wack, wack
The people in the middle, come on and wiggle, wiggle
And the people on the side, we can all take a ride
In my VW I done swung an ep' or two
The rear in my hatchback, y'all know I scratched that (uh-huh)
Here to haystack, keep it rosy in the Rolls
Skiddin' out to place my vote at the polls for Ad Rock (uh, uh)
Well, I'm the the toe tapper, yes, the hand clapper
From the middle school like the educated rapper
I'm known as an occupational MC
You think I lose sleep if you sleep on me?
It's the rock solid, pilot, here to fly (rock)
Reachin' elevations too far for the eye (eye)
Miraculous beats over breaks in these packages
Seen (all over the globe)
And all the types who thinks our joints is aight
Here's a swab for ya ear (to clean out ya lobe)
And listen to a few views from two crews spittin' for the art of it
We ain't takin' over but damn sure takin' part of it (ahh)
Started it ever since we minced meat
You Sloppy Joe's went and took a bit of the corn dog
Stay there, I'ma play there ('cause they pay there)
In the big ol' Santa Claus bag got discs and now we out

Signin' off, signin' off, our work is done
So come on party people
Have (have), have (have), have fun

One more time


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

Squat! Lyrics as written by Adam Horovitz Michael Louis Diamond

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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