We're
Grandmaster
Flash!
We're giving you a blast of class!
Ha!
And if you want to know why we're on top of the pile,
ha, ha, ha, cause we got style.
Yves
Saint
Laurent,
Pierre
Cardin, the
Chantlers,
Cogs, and the
Carringtons.
Style's not
Gucci or
Louis
Vuitton, import it straight from the
Bronx, and my name's
Vaughn.
Creole with a few words that light the voice,
and arsenal of rhymes is my particular choice.
Got style and finesse, and I'm sure you'll agree,
nobody ever, never, ever rhymes quite
like me.
We're
Grandmaster
Flash
We're givin' you a
blast of class
And if you wanna know why
we're on top of the pile
Cause we got style
I don't play, call me the mystical,
the magical, but sure, ok
The young man supreme, I got
Sawa fan
And you can come into my
world if you dare
Raheem, the lady dream,
is my claim to fame
Strictly emphasizing I possess true game
Got stallions all around me,
like drapes on a wall
Responding to my slightest whim when I'm
picking a call
We're
Grandmaster
Flash
We're givin' you a blast of class
And if you
wanna know
why we're on top of the pile
Ha ha ha, cause we got style,
diggity
We're
Grandmaster
Flash
We're givin' you a blast,
so class, huh!
And if you wanna know why
we're on top of the pile
Ha, ha, ha, cause we got style
Nick, he's lovin' love,
and if you have any doubt
Come try your luck,
and it'll take you right out
He's makin' the moves others
never thought of
Runnin' up the floors in
all the nightclubs
Before
Instagram has to flash,
everybody knows
He's a trail of destruction
wherever he goes
Got a style like a young
jock's never seen
Don't deny, and it's full of dippin' boys and friends,
so turn it green
Ding, dong, sound off
Ding, sound off
Ding, sound off
We're
Grandmaster
Flash!
We're giving you a blast, subclass!
And if you wanna know why
we're on top of the pile,
Cause we got style
And you're a poor excuse of a
MC
Frontin' on a stage tryin' to be like me
You said you had style,
you thought you had grace
But you wouldn't know class
if it hit you in the face
Sayin' raggedy rhymes
out your big mouth
Talkin' real loud but noth
in's comin' out
Sayin' how I get you
all all the time
Knowin' all the rhymes that you're
sayin' are mine
Your pathetic look and
your clown sound
It's like you got the style
from the lost and found
Our unique looks shows we got taste
You can't help but stare when
we walk in the plate
Make no mistake,
we possess what it takes
To tear the roof off the place
and make the crowd praise
So just relax, cause it's a shootout fact
The reason we got style is
cause we got it like that
C'mon!
Thank you.