Beastie Boys - Hey Fuck You Lyrics

Which of you schnooks took my rhyme book, look
Give it back, you're wicky-wack
With your ticky-tack calls, didn't touch you at all
I didn't touch your hand, man, you know it's all ball
You sold a few records but don't get slick
'Cause you used a corked bat to get those hits
Yeah you've been in the game, your career is long
But when you really break it down, you've only got two songs
MCs are like clay pigeons and I'm shootin' skeet
I just yell pull and Mike drops the beat
You people call yourselves MCs but you're garbage men
Takin' out the trash when you pull out the pen

And if you don't like it, then hey, f*ck you

Comin' in
Now, I read about you up on page six
They was trashin' your ass it's sad you're getting dissed
Now talk about your face now don't get pissed
But I suggest you see a dermatologist
I keep that hot sauce hot not mild and weak
It's gonna burn your mouth until you wet your beak
I've got billions and billions of rhymes to flex
'Cause I've got more rhymes than Carl Sagan's got turtlenecks
Your rhymes are fake like a Canal Street watch
You're hearing me and you're like "oh my God its Sasquatch!"
But I'm walkin' on water while you're stepping in shit
So put your sewer boots on before your ass gets licked

And if you don't like it, then hey, f*ck you
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
And it you don't like it, then hey, f*ck you

Sucker MC's it's me they're resenting
In the animal kingdom they call it presenting
With the dipsy doo-doo the kit and kaboodle
The truth is brutal, your grandma's kugel
Kings County is my stomping ground
The Albee Square Mall, Brooklyn, Downtown
So don't ask me to wine and dine ya
I'm from Brooklyn you're from Regina
You're like Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam
You're just yellin', wildin', wondering who I am
With those lies you're telling you're like Toucan Sam
My style's impregnable like the Hoover Dam

And if you don't like it, then hey, f*ck you
And if you don't like it, then hey, f*ck you
Wow, what a loser!