Beastie Boys

How here's a little story - I've got to tell
About three bad brothers - you know so well
It started way back in history
With Adrock, M.C.A., and me - Mike D.
Been had a little horsy named Paul Revere
Just me and my horsy and a quart of beer
Riding across the land - kicking up sand
Sheriff's posse on my tail cause I'm in demand
One lonely Beastie I be
All by myself - without nobody
The sun is beating down on my baseball hat
The air is gettin' hot - the beer is getting flat
Lookin' for a girl - I ran into a guy
His name is M.C.A., I said, Howdy - he said, Hi
He told a little story - that sounded well rehearsed
Four days on the run and that he's dying of thirst
The brew was in my hand - and he was on my tip
His voice was hoarse, his throat was dry - he asked me for a sip
He said, Can I get some?
I said, You can't get none!
Had a chance to run
He pulled out his shotgun
He was quick on the draw - I thought I'd be dead
He put the gun to my head and this is what he said,
Now my name is M.C.A. - I've got a license to kill
I think you know what time it is - it's time to get ill
Now what do we have here - an outlaw and his beer
I run this land, you understand - I make myself clear.
We stepped into the wind - he had a gun, I had a grin
You think this story's over but it's ready to begin