Hold It Now, Hit It (Alcapulco) Songtext
von Beastie Boys

Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!
Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Why don′t you hook up that def jam right about now?

Now, I chill real ill when I start to chill
When I fill my pockets with a knot of dollar bills
Sippin' pints of ale out the window sill
When I get my fill, I′m chilly chill

Now, I just got home because I'm out on bail
What's the time? It′s time to buy ale
Peter eater, parking meter, all of the time
If I run out of ale, it′s Thunderbird wine

Miller-drinkin', chicken-eatin′, dress so fly
I got friends in high places that are keepin' me high
Get down with Mike D and it ain′t no hassle
I got the ladies of the eighties from here to White Castle

Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!
It's my drum, it′s my, hold it now, it's my rhyme


And now it's me, Adam Yauch, in the place to be
All the girls are on me ′cause I′m down with Mike D
I'm down with Mike D and it ain′t no baloney
For real, not phony, O-E and Rice-a-Roni

I come out at night 'cause I sleep all day
Well, I′m the King Ad-Rock and he's MCA
Well, I′m cruisin', I'm bruisin′, I′m never ever losin'
I′m in my car, I'm goin′ far and dust is what I'm usin′

Around the way is where I'm from
And I'm from Manhattan and I′m not a bum
Because you′re pud-slapping, ball-flapping, got that juice
My name's Mike D and I can do that Jerry Lewis

Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!
Yo, that was real def, man
Try that again, man
I like that def stuff, boy

Hip-hoppin′, body rockin', doin′ the do
Beer drinkin', breath stinkin′, sniffin' glue
Belly fillin', always illin′, bustin′ caps
My name's Mike D and I write my own snaps


I′m a-peep-show seeking on the Forty-deuce
I'm a killer at large and I′m on the loose
Pistol packin', Monkey drinkin′, no money bum
I come from Brooklyn 'cause that's where I′m from

Cheap-skatin′, perpetratin', money-hungry jerk
Every day I drink OE and I don′t go to work
You drippy-nose knucklehead, you're wet behind the ears
You like men and we like beers

Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!
Bust that choco-lotto
What, huh, yo, man, pass that over here, man, all right

King of the Ave with the def female
You′re rhymin' and stealin′ with the freshest ale
Kid coolin' at the crib watching my TV
Ed Norton, Ted Knight and Mr. E-D

Pump it up, homeboy, just don't stop
Chef Boyardee, coolin′ on the pot
I take no slack, ′cause I got the knack
I'm never dustin′ out 'cause I tossed that crack

The King Ad-Rock, that is my name
Y′all drinking Moët and we got the champagne
A quarter droppin', going shoppin′, buyin' wigs
Surgeon general, cut professor, DJ Thiggs

Hold it now, hit it
Hit it
Hold it now, hit it
Yo, Leroy!