Way Out West

Way Out West from way back east Coming from a place you'd expect the least There came a stranger, dressed in black From a Harlem Town, a long way back Had a Stetson hat with a band of gold Eyes like steel, make your blood run cold Had a microphone hanging by his side Just ready to be amplified Rode into town on a big black steed Lookin' for a man named Ganamede "I hear the dude just won't get down If I rock this world I can rock this town!" And when they asked him for his name He said "Kurtis Blow, I play the rappin' game I can do the do, I can do the deed And tonight I'm gonna rock Ganamede!" Now Ganamede thought he was cool Wore Gucci shoes, had a fancy school A fancy job in a big corporation Fancy girls all across the nation Fancy car, fancy clothes Fancy friends and fancy dough Only one thing he wouldn't do Is let himself get down with you The stranger went to the old saloon Grabbed his mike and spun a tune And everyone in the whole darn place Said "Do the rap and set that pace!" He rapped 'em down and he rapped 'em out He made 'em dance and he made 'em shout He said "If you like Kurtis Blow Then let me hear you all say... A say ho-oo! Ho-oo! Hi-yo! Hi-yo! Say Kurtis! Kurtis! Say Kurtis Blow! Kurtis Blow! At midnight Ganamede came in To watch the dancers move and spin He took a seat over by the bar And started smokin' a big cigar "I admit the stranger is not bad But tonight I'm gonna make him sad Cause I don't care about the groove There ain't no dude gonna make me move!" The joint was jumpin' hard at one But Ganamede was havin' none Things were really fly at two The stranger rapped and the tension grew But Ganamede maintained his cool "I'll make the stranger play the fool Cause I don't care about the groove There ain't no dude gonna make me move!" The showdown came at three o'clock The stranger said, "I'm gonna make you rock I'm gonna make you move, I'm gonna make you dance They're gonna take you out in an ambulance Now everybody lend a hand I'm gonna make you be the band There ain't no jive, no superstition We're gonna have a little demolition Get down! Now stomp your feet To the funky beat Just clap your hands And let the beat expand Let me here the bass Put it in my face Let the guitar play Just put it away And now I think we've got the groove So Ganamede, get up and move!" Now everyone looked at the bar At the lonely man with the big cigar He began to move, he began to shake He'd had as much as he could take He took his body to the floor And then the crowd began to roar The stranger just had done the deed And rocked the house with Ganamede From three to four he couldn't stop From four to five he just had to rock From five to six he let it loose At seven he still had the juice At eight o'clock he was goin' strong Gettin' down with every song At nine o'clock he couldn't dance And someone called an ambulance As they put him in the back Of that big white shiny Cadillac He said "Please get me Kurtis Blow There's something that he ought to know" He said "I thought I'd make my name By beatin' you at the rappin' game But you beat me fair and square And anyway, I just don't care." The stranger asked him what he meant Said Ganamede, "I am content I never used to catch a groove I never used to dance or move But it's more fun to play the fool Than tryin' hard to be real cool So anytime you're back in town I'm gonna get up and I'm gonna get down!" The stranger watched him drive away Knowing what he'd done that day And then he went right back inside To make the dancers slip and slide To rock 'em out, to rock 'em in To make 'em rock it down again And he said "If you like my sound Let me hear you all say... Throw down! Throw down! At the showdown! At the showdown! Throw down! Throw down! At the showdown! At the showdown! Now stomp your feet To the funky beat Just clap your hands And let the beat expand Let me here the bass Put it in my face Let the guitar play Just put it away A-rock on!