Lyric Where It s At

There s a destination a little up the road
From the habitations and the towns we know
A place we saw the lights turn low
With the jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow
Pulling out jives and jamboree handouts
Two turntables and a microphone
Bottles and cans just clap your hands just clap your hands

Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Take me home in my elevator bones

Pick yourself up off the side of the road
With your elevator bones and your whip-flash tones
Members only
Hypnotizers move through the womb like ambulance drivers
Shining shoes with your microphone blues
Here-suits with your parachute fruits
Passing the dutchie from coast to coast
Let the man get loose while I rock the most

Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone

What about those who swing both ways, AC-DC s
Let s make it out, baby

Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone

Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone

Oh, dear me, making slaves at two-horse town
"That s beautiful, Dad."

Get my microphone
There s a destination a little up the road
From the habitations and the towns we know
A place we saw the lights turn low
With the jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow
Pulling out jives and jamboree handouts
Two turntables and a microphone
Bottles and cans just clap your hands just clap your hands

Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it s at
I got two turntables and a microphone

I got plastic on my mind