Professor Booty
Beastie Boys Lyrics


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Yes, I got more bounce than the fucking bump
And then you want to know why because I'm motherfuckin' truckin'
I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate
Got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait
'Cause I'm the master blaster, drinking up the shasta
My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to (looking good!)
So light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blowin' up
I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up
But now I want y'all to move it
Put your point on the floor and just prove it
And I'm smurfin', not rehearsin', gettin' live, y'all
A little puffy, so you know what, I'm doin' right
'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in
I got this feelin' that it's back again
So don't touch me, 'cause I'm electric
And if you touch me, you'll get shocked

You got, you got, you got, you got, you got
You've got the boomin' system, but it's sloshing out doo-doo
You think it's chocolate milk, but it's watered down Yoo-hoo
I've been through many times in which I thought I might lose it
The only thing that saved me, has always been music
We've got our own studio, the Son of the G
It's no question, life's been good to me
'Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove
A good mixtape to put you in the right mood
This one goes out to my man, the Groove Merchant
Coming through with beats for which I've been searching
Like two sealed copies, of Expansions
I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
The logo I sport is the face of the monkey
Union made, Ben Davis-quality, it's no junk, see?
My chrome is shining, just like an icicle
I ride around town in my low-rider bicyle

So many wack emcees, you get the TV bozak
Ain't even gonna call out your names, 'cause you're so wack
And one big oaf, who's faker than plastic
A dictionary definition of the word spastic
You should have never started something that you couldn't finish
'Cause writin' rhymes to me is like Popeye to spinach
I'm bad ass, move ya' fat ass, 'cause you're wack, son
Dancing around like you think you're Janet Jackson
Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on
I'll put the rug out under your ass as I talk on
I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof
Like an emcee at the fever in the DJ booth
With your headphones strapped, you're rockin' rewind/pause
Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours
But like a pencil to a paper, I got more to come
One after another, you can all get some
So you better take your time, and meditate on your rhyme
'Cause your shit'll be stinkin' when I go for mine
And that's right, y'all, don't get uptight, y'all
You can't say shit because you're biting what I write, y'all




And that's wrong, y'all, over the long haul
You can't cut the mustard when you're fronting it all

Overall Meaning

The song "Professor Booty" by Beastie Boys features witty lyrics filled with wordplay and acrobatics. The first verse sets the tone of the song as a boastful declaration of the rapper's skills and attitude. The lyrics reference various cultural figures and products, including Grady Tate (a jazz drummer), Shasta (a soda brand), and Yoo-hoo (a chocolate drink brand). The rapper declares that he's "blowin' up" and invites the audience to move and prove their point on the floor. The second verse is more critical and takes shots at other rappers who are "wack" and "faker than plastic." The rapper compares writing rhymes to Popeye's spinach and boasts about his lyrical prowess.


The song's title, "Professor Booty," was inspired by a woman named Sandra "Booty" Mason, who was a high school teacher of one of the band members. The song was produced by the Beastie Boys and their long-time collaborator, Mario Caldato Jr. The song features a sample from the song "Maggot Brain" by Funkadelic. "Professor Booty" is the eighth track on the Beastie Boys' fourth studio album, "Check Your Head," which was released in 1992. The album is known for its eclectic mix of musical genres, including punk, funk, and hip-hop.


Line by Line Meaning

Yes, I got more bounce than the fucking bump
I'm feeling good and have lots of energy


And then you want to know why because I'm motherfuckin' truckin'
I'm doing great and unstoppable


I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate
I'm in a great groove


Got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait
I have lots of music to share


'Cause I'm the master blaster, drinking up the shasta
I'm doing great and enjoying a drink


My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to (looking good!)
My voice sounds good because I'm feeling good


So light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blowin' up
I'm doing great and feeling explosive


I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up
Thanks to everyone for coming


But now I want y'all to move it
Let's dance!


Put your point on the floor and just prove it
Show off your dance moves


And I'm smurfin', not rehearsin', gettin' live, y'all
I'm having fun and improvising


A little puffy, so you know what, I'm doin' right
I'm feeling good and doing things the way I want


'Cause that's the kind of frame of mind I'm in
I'm in a great mental state


I got this feelin' that it's back again
I feel like I'm in a great groove


So don't touch me, 'cause I'm electric
I'm feeling powerful and energetic


And if you touch me, you'll get shocked
Don't mess with me, because I'm in a great state


You got, you got, you got, you got, you got
You have, you have, you have, you have, you have


You've got the boomin' system, but it's sloshing out doo-doo
You have loud speakers, but the sound quality isn't good


You think it's chocolate milk, but it's watered down Yoo-hoo
You think it's good, but it's not as good as you think


I've been through many times in which I thought I might lose it
I've been through tough times


The only thing that saved me, has always been music
Music has always been there for me when times are tough


We've got our own studio, the Son of the G
We have our own recording studio


It's no question, life's been good to me
Life has been good to me


'Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove
Life is all about having a good time


A good mixtape to put you in the right mood
A good playlist can really make you feel great


This one goes out to my man, the Groove Merchant
This is dedicated to my friend who makes great music


Coming through with beats for which I've been searching
Providing me with the music I want


Like two sealed copies, of Expansions
Like having two rare and valuable records


I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
I'm doing really well, like a rich businessman


The logo I sport is the face of the monkey
I wear a logo with a monkey on it


Union made, Ben Davis-quality, it's no junk, see?
My clothing is high quality and well-made


My chrome is shining, just like an icicle
My bike is looking great


I ride around town in my low-rider bicycle
I ride a cool bike


So many wack emcees, you get the TV bozak
There are a lot of bad rappers on TV


Ain't even gonna call out your names, 'cause you're so wack
I won't say your names, because you're not worth it


And one big oaf, who's faker than plastic
There's one really fake person who isn't worth our time


A dictionary definition of the word spastic
They're really bad and uncoordinated


You should have never started something that you couldn't finish
Don't mess with me if you can't handle it


'Cause writin' rhymes to me is like Popeye to spinach
I'm really good at writing rhymes


I'm bad ass, move ya' fat ass, 'cause you're wack, son
I'm really cool, and you're not


Dancing around like you think you're Janet Jackson
You're dancing like a popstar, but you're not


Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on
You thought you could use me, but it didn't work out


I'll put the rug out under your ass as I talk on
I'll take you down as I keep talking


I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof
I'm going to take you down easily


Like an emcee at the fever in the DJ booth
Like a rapper performing at a club


With your headphones strapped, you're rockin' rewind/pause
You're trying to figure out how to improve your music


Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours
You're trying to find ways to succeed


But like a pencil to a paper, I got more to come
I have lots more music and rhymes to share


One after another, you can all get some
Everyone can enjoy my music


So you better take your time, and meditate on your rhyme
Take your time and improve your music


'Cause your shit'll be stinkin' when I go for mine
Your music won't compare to mine


And that's right, y'all, don't get uptight, y'all
Don't get upset, everyone


You can't say shit because you're biting what I write, y'all
You can't criticize my music because you copy me


And that's wrong, y'all, over the long haul
Copying someone else's music is wrong in the long run


You can't cut the mustard when you're fronting it all
You won't succeed if you're just pretending




Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: ADAM HOROVITZ, ADAM NATHANIEL YAUCH, MARIO CALDATO JR., MICHAEL LOUIS DIAMOND

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Nestor Galaviz


on Body Movin' (Fatboy Slim remix)

dope

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