The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
Yo, yo, yo, yo, it's funk doc where da weed at, bitch?
I speed backwards down a one-way from cops see that shit?
Believe that shit slaughter, straight to camcorder
I'm too hot for TV, rap draw water
My windpipe's attached to project ballers
You yell, "Turn the heat down"
My voice, DVD 'round sound, so I'm heard round town
And chances of y'all leavin? 'Round now
Wait later, will make front page paper
Date raper with juvenile eighth graders
Hit the high school and 187 Caesar
When I bust y'all need to back fo' acres
Doc y'all, and that's my man jabberjaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
I'm from the underground, my sound lift
Platform shoes to bitches, fo'-hundred pounds
Get up, stand up, back up, push up
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Yo' blackout, shoot out, smoked out, move out
Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
And I'm the street-talkin dog-walkin'
Approach me with extreme caution oh now you forcin'
My hand to rock yo' cradle often, I'm hot-scorchin'
But stone cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what tical cookin'
Ain't tryin to see central bookin'
So tell ya goon stop lookin
Know what you did last summer, so I started hookin'
You past shooken off an open can of ass-whoopin'
Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's little shop of horrors
Go ask your father who the father from the hill to harbor
You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and goldschlager
With deadly medley, y'all ain't ready for Shakwon and Reggie
Don't even bother, the radio for back-up alright then
Your man got slapped up, extorted for his ice an
Street life is triflin', body over here"
Don't make me pull a Tyson and bite a nigga ear
Precise an', slicin' jugulars, the cut-throat
Ruggeder, predator, Viking, etcetera
People's champ, niggas be takin' on competitors
Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone
Straight from the catacomb, the children of the corn
That don't got a clue prepare for Desert Storm
Get up, stand up, back up, push up
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Yo' blackout, shoot out, smoked out, move out
Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
I scored 1.1 on my sat
And still push a whip with a right and left ac'
Gorilla, big dog, if my name get called
I'm behind the brick wall with arsenic jaws
Spit poison, got a gun permit draw
Gun down at sundown you keep score
This trainin course and y'all ain't fit
On my crew tombstone put, "We all ain't shit"
Yo, all you gonnabe, wannabe, when will you learn?
Wanna be Doc' and Meth', gotta wait your turn
I spit a .41 revolver on New Year's Eve
With the mic in my hand I mutilate MC's
The most slept on since RIP Van Wink'
My shit stink with every element from A to zinc
So what you think?
I'ma blackout on just one drink, you must be crazy
A little off the wall, maybe go get a shrink
Get up, stand up, back up, push up
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Yo' blackout, shoot out, smoked out, move out
Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
I speed backwards down a one-way from cops see that shit?
Believe that shit slaughter, straight to camcorder
I'm too hot for TV, rap draw water
My windpipe's attached to project ballers
You yell, "Turn the heat down"
My voice, DVD 'round sound, so I'm heard round town
And chances of y'all leavin? 'Round now
Wait later, will make front page paper
Date raper with juvenile eighth graders
Hit the high school and 187 Caesar
When I bust y'all need to back fo' acres
Doc y'all, and that's my man jabberjaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
I'm from the underground, my sound lift
Platform shoes to bitches, fo'-hundred pounds
Get up, stand up, back up, push up
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Yo' blackout, shoot out, smoked out, move out
Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
And I'm the street-talkin dog-walkin'
Approach me with extreme caution oh now you forcin'
My hand to rock yo' cradle often, I'm hot-scorchin'
But stone cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what tical cookin'
Ain't tryin to see central bookin'
So tell ya goon stop lookin
Know what you did last summer, so I started hookin'
You past shooken off an open can of ass-whoopin'
Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's little shop of horrors
Go ask your father who the father from the hill to harbor
You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and goldschlager
With deadly medley, y'all ain't ready for Shakwon and Reggie
Don't even bother, the radio for back-up alright then
Your man got slapped up, extorted for his ice an
Street life is triflin', body over here"
Don't make me pull a Tyson and bite a nigga ear
Precise an', slicin' jugulars, the cut-throat
Ruggeder, predator, Viking, etcetera
People's champ, niggas be takin' on competitors
Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone
Straight from the catacomb, the children of the corn
That don't got a clue prepare for Desert Storm
Get up, stand up, back up, push up
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Yo' blackout, shoot out, smoked out, move out
Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
I scored 1.1 on my sat
And still push a whip with a right and left ac'
Gorilla, big dog, if my name get called
I'm behind the brick wall with arsenic jaws
Spit poison, got a gun permit draw
Gun down at sundown you keep score
This trainin course and y'all ain't fit
On my crew tombstone put, "We all ain't shit"
Yo, all you gonnabe, wannabe, when will you learn?
Wanna be Doc' and Meth', gotta wait your turn
I spit a .41 revolver on New Year's Eve
With the mic in my hand I mutilate MC's
The most slept on since RIP Van Wink'
My shit stink with every element from A to zinc
So what you think?
I'ma blackout on just one drink, you must be crazy
A little off the wall, maybe go get a shrink
Get up, stand up, back up, push up
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Yo' blackout, shoot out, smoked out, move out
Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Brr, stick 'em, ha-ha-ha stick 'em
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Blackout Lyrics as written by Reggie Noble Mark Morales
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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