"Rock Hard" lyrics
First! First! First!
We're the b-boys, we don't regret
There's nothing wrong with your TV set
We're a gettin' loose
We couldn't be harder
Our beats are bigger and better and longer
Got real rock shit
You must admit
Not fake, not false, not counterfeit
I can play the drums, I can play guitar
Not just b-boys, but real rock stars
Rock, rock rock
When we blow up your ship, you better hit the deck
You'll walk the plank for your dis
Respect, respect, respect
If you front on the Rock, best run and hide
If you got static, we'll take it outside
And you start to get dulled by the Beastie Boys
Use real rock beats, show off big toys
Like claps of thunder from a cumulus cloud
Double R pump the beat and make it real loud
Loud
A, then scratch it
Heavy metal tension running through your blood
Too much rock, step off the pud
Too much treble, mid-range, and bass
The beat's so hard, it'll dick your face
You'll crush out hard rock, hard beats
Hard rock, cold rhythms for fanatic freaks
Some people say, "This has been done."
We're here, we're now
And the battle's won
Fists! Fists! Fists!
Fists of fury in an MC bout
Rock so hard it'll knock you out
The very first blow is the kick and the snare
The beat's so def that you better beware
When you're talkin' bass right in your face
The walls crumble down, destroying the place
The finishing touch is the vocals that slam
The final blow in the five finger jam
Some! Some! Some! Some!
Sometimes I write rhythms
Sometimes I write rhymes
He writes his, and I write mine
Rock 'n roll rhythms are raunchy and raucous
We're from Manhattan, you're from Secaucus
Mike D, Ad-Rock, and MCA
Not before long I can hear you say
In a way these boys got juice
They're goin' off you know they love to get loose
Get loose get loose
Poose
Gettin' the Ad-Ad-Ad-Rock
MCA Mike D. in the place to be
The Beastie Boys showin' off the toys
That's right
Uh, uh
In the place to be
You know it, you know it
AdRock, uh uh
When the party gets loose
Slop one, slop one
And you're goin' the boots
Everybody gettin' trouble
LOV on the New York C
Double R double R
Better off the by
Just takin' off the jile
Like I lost my style
Gonna' grab my rhyme
All the Negros the got style
Oh
We're the b-boys, we don't regret
There's nothing wrong with your TV set
We're a gettin' loose
We couldn't be harder
Our beats are bigger and better and longer
Got real rock shit
You must admit
Not fake, not false, not counterfeit
I can play the drums, I can play guitar
Not just b-boys, but real rock stars
Rock, rock rock
When we blow up your ship, you better hit the deck
You'll walk the plank for your dis
Respect, respect, respect
If you front on the Rock, best run and hide
If you got static, we'll take it outside
And you start to get dulled by the Beastie Boys
Use real rock beats, show off big toys
Like claps of thunder from a cumulus cloud
Double R pump the beat and make it real loud
Loud
A, then scratch it
Heavy metal tension running through your blood
Too much rock, step off the pud
Too much treble, mid-range, and bass
The beat's so hard, it'll dick your face
You'll crush out hard rock, hard beats
Hard rock, cold rhythms for fanatic freaks
Some people say, "This has been done."
We're here, we're now
And the battle's won
Fists! Fists! Fists!
Fists of fury in an MC bout
Rock so hard it'll knock you out
The very first blow is the kick and the snare
The beat's so def that you better beware
When you're talkin' bass right in your face
The walls crumble down, destroying the place
The finishing touch is the vocals that slam
The final blow in the five finger jam
Some! Some! Some! Some!
Sometimes I write rhythms
Sometimes I write rhymes
He writes his, and I write mine
Rock 'n roll rhythms are raunchy and raucous
We're from Manhattan, you're from Secaucus
Mike D, Ad-Rock, and MCA
Not before long I can hear you say
In a way these boys got juice
They're goin' off you know they love to get loose
Get loose get loose
Poose
Gettin' the Ad-Ad-Ad-Rock
MCA Mike D. in the place to be
The Beastie Boys showin' off the toys
That's right
Uh, uh
In the place to be
You know it, you know it
AdRock, uh uh
When the party gets loose
Slop one, slop one
And you're goin' the boots
Everybody gettin' trouble
LOV on the New York C
Double R double R
Better off the by
Just takin' off the jile
Like I lost my style
Gonna' grab my rhyme
All the Negros the got style
Oh
Writer(s): Michael Louis Diamond, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Rick Rubin, Adam Keefe Horovitz
