Shadrach

Album: Paul's Boutique (1989)
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  • Riddle me this, 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 then the man upstairs I hope that he cares
    If I had a penny for my thoughts I'd be a millionaire
    We're just three M.C.'s and we're on the go
    Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago)

    Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, yeah
    Only twenty-four hours in a day
    Only twelve notes that a man can play
    Music for all and 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 (well)
    If not for my vices and my bugged-out desires
    My year would be good just like Goodyear's tires
    'Cause I'm out pickin' pockets at the Atlantic Antic
    And nobody wants to hear you 'cause 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 gotta mean red streak
    You don't pay the band, your friends and that's weak
    Get even like Steven, like pulling a Rambo
    Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago)

    Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, yeah
    Steal from the rich and I'm out robbing banks
    Give it to the poor and I always give thanks
    Because they 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 Couple like the Colonel's got the chickens
    And I always go 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
    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
    Just like Jerry Lee Swaggert or Jerry Lee Falwell
    You like 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
    (Being very proud to be an M.C.)
    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
    The bass is bumpin' from the back of my Fleetwood
    They tell us what to do, hell no
    Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago) hey Writer/s: Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, John Robert King, Matt Dike, Michael Louis Diamond, Michael S. Simpson
    Publisher: BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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