• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• No Style - Jeanette Biedermann
• No Style - Jeanette
• Nestle - Far
• No Style - Chalets
• Neue Stil - Lost Poets

There was this fine guy walkin' up to me tellin' me about the car he's driving
It was just braggin'
that ain't hard to see
To me he seemed a bit meretricious
I just refuse
to pick up a guy like you
Shut up, baby!
I know there's something better
for me to do
Shut up baby and go home (away)
You've got no style - baby bye
Can't even promise a maybe
You've got no style - baby bye
Get back to where you belonged
You've got no style you've got no style
You flex your muscles
hope that I get weak
I must admit you know how to harden When you blow kisses
I just turn the cheek
Late at night you're turnin'
soft as Ice - cream
I just refuse
to pick up a guy like you
Shut up, baby!
I know there's something better
for me to do
Shut up baby and go home (away)
You've got no style - baby bye
Can't even promise a maybe
You've got no style - baby bye
Get back to where you belonged
You've got no style you've got no style

There was this fine guy walkin' up to me tellin' me
about the car he's driving
It was just braggin'
that ain't hard to see
To me he seemed a bit meretricious
I just refuse
to pick up a guy like you
Shut up, baby!
I know there's something better
for me to do
Shut up baby and go home (away)
You've got no style - baby bye
Can't even promise a maybe
You've got no style - baby bye
Get back to where you belonged
You've got no style
you've got no style
You flex your muscles
hope that I get weak
When you blow kisses
I just turn the cheek
Late at night you're turnin'
soft as Ice - cream
I just refuse
to pick up a guy like you
Shut up, baby!
I know there's something better
for me to do
Shut up baby and go home (away)
You've got no style - baby bye
Can't even promise a maybe
You've got no style - baby bye
Get back to where you belonged
You've got no style
you've got no style
Listen up
Listen up
Listen up
Listen up
You've got no style - baby bye
Can't even promise a maybe
You've got no style - baby bye
Get back to where you belonged
You've got no style
you've got no style
You've got no style - baby bye
Can't even promise a maybe
You've got no style - baby bye
Get back to where you belonged
You've got no style
you've got no style

And he always wrote and he always called
And he never lied 'cause he never said anything at all
In a world of dirt, I am rainin', I'm erodin'
But which one of us? In a chorus of maybe's
I realize, I realize, I realize, I realize
Nestle, nestle, nestle, I won't ever let you go
When I started this, I was thinking of my father
Now a holy ghost, now see one become the other
One become me, one become me
I realize, I realize, I realize
Nestle, nestle, nestle, nestle
Nestle, I won't ever let you go

Everybody says you're looking pretty cool
And the summers looking good for the gang you rule
But you got No Style
Yeah, you got No Style
Working everyday you're waiting to get paid
And you're counting every check so you can get away
But you got No Time
Yeah, you got No Time
Every summer
Every summer
Every summer
Every summer it's your turn
And I'm feeling
I'm feeling
I'm feeling
I'm feeling older
Fall down on your cass
You're staring at her ass
And your heart is beating fast
You know you wanna ask
But you got No Spine
Yeah, you got No Spine
Sitting on the wall
You're breaking up with Paul
And you wanna get with Joe
So you can get your hole
But you got No Hope
Yeah, you got No Hope
Every summer
Every summer
Every summer
Every summer it's your turn
And they're growing
I'm they're growing
I'm they're growing
I'm they're growing colder
Everybody says you're looking pretty cool
And the summers looking good for the gang you rule
But you got No Style
Yeah, you got No Style
Working everyday you're waiting to get paid
And you're counting every check so you can get away
But you got No Time
Yeah, you got No Time
Every summer
Every summer
Every summer
Every summer it's your turn
And I know it
I know it
I know it

1-9-9-8, S het aagfange mit ere tobende Nacht, doch mini Gedanke sin verwacht, und
use mien mer in d Schlacht, I dänk es isch Zyt, dass me öppis neus macht, nimm di in
acht, wundere di nid, wenn`s bald bös kracht, denn mir schlön ii wie e Komet, es
zieht is aa wie e risigs Magnet, und Lost Poets sin mid im Paket, es revolutioniert
unsere Planet. Mid Liechtgschwindigkeit durchs Sunnesystem, yo, für uns isch das kei
Problem. Wie Jose Carreras singe mir im Chor, d Reim sin Sopran, d Beats sin Tenor,
checke mir en ab mid Mikro-Terror. D Zyt isch doo, e neue Wäg iizschloo, vo neuem
aazfoo, ä letschts mol Hallo, Hallo, und mir schlön s`S*+/°a K.O. doch das müen dir
nid verstoo, solang si euch wird in Rue loo, denn das ganze isch mer nid guet
iinechoo. Doch I ha käi Bock uf Death Metal odr Hardrock, das vrursacht in mir en
innere Schogg.
Ref: E neue Stil, e neue Stil, wedr Bongs, no Blunts, no Villiger Kiel!
Mir hän nüd z`verliere, drum chöne mir provoziere, neus usprobiere, alts eleminiere,
unsre Stil frisiere, gäbe däm ganze e neui Niere. Mir bringe en fetter als Turtles
und Shredder, d Beats wärde sätter, d Reim wärde glädder. Wenn I nen keck check und
nid verreck, müen mir an d Segg, wenn I ä falschi Platte uflegg und I mi übr ä
Sampler ufregg, doch sobald I s MIC iistegg, sin alli Sorge wegg, sing nid I`m a
looser wie Beck.
Alles guet und Rächt, doch wenn I d Charts aalueg wird’ s mer Schlächt, bi ne
Lyriker wie Berthold Brecht, doch immer grösser wärde d Schächt, zwüsche Realität
und Fiktion, und genau das isch Prävention, schiess si ab durch s Mikrofon, doch das
kenne mir schon, bi ne Künstler, N-Muzix`s Sohn. I würd gärn jedm e Bier gää, wo eins
wott nää, doch mi Tenpack isch eifach z schnäll leer, drum isch es immer schwer,
sorry z`sage, doch I cha nur chlage, dass mi mini Finanze nid trage, denn I nie us
öppis Profit gschlaage, und eines Tages goht mer s Finanzamt an Chrage.
Ref.
Für immer und ewig chöme mir usm Chefig. Die dunkli Macht wie Darth Vader, immer
tiefer keit er, doch unsere Wäg isch dr gscheiter, alli unsri Hemmige befreit er.
Doch unsere Wäg füert nach vorne und nid zrugg, und konservativi Sieche mache mi
verruggd, genauso dä wo alles schluggd, bis eine mid dr Wimpre zuggd und dr heikli
Chnopf druggd, denn gsehsch n wie är ä Pistole muggd, uf d Stross stoht und
abdruggd. Denn liide Unschuldigi unter sinere Wuet, s`driffd immer die falsche, das
find I nid guet, doch wenns e mol die richtig drifft, hän mir drmid nüd am Huet,
denn mir bliibe verbal solang d`Staatsgwalt rueht, doch mir erwarte scho d
Sintfluet.
Ref.