"Fast car" is kind of a continuation of Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run." It has all the clawing your way to a better life, but in this case the protagonist never makes it with her love; in fact she is dragged back down by him.
There is still an amazing amount of hope and will in the lyrics; and the lyrics themselve rank and easy five. If only music was stronger it would be one of those great radio songs that you hear once a week 20 years after it was released. The imagery is almost tear-jerking ("City lights lay out before us", "Speeds so fast felt like I was drunk"), and the idea of starting from nothing and just driving and working and denigrating yourself for a chance at being just above poverty, then losing in the end is just painful and inspiring at the same time.
We blowin' money bitch
I go hard, I go hard, gettin' paid
I go hard, I go hard, gettin' paid
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
And make 'em pick it all up
Money strapped to my waist
Somewhere in the whip I'm in with no bass
Flooded the trap I need a new place?
Money got to go I told 'em there's no space
Never love hoes, hoes I don't chase
Only wear loc's the same as my race
All I know is stunt, make a hater feel like shit to the point
That he in another place? Real talk
I-I-I ain't the one but I lean on haters, looking so clean on gator
Try to jack me, I guarantee I'll put the beam on haters
Hood nigga, when I come to this I'm stocked up
Shit on my wrist tryna light this block up
Nigga said I got a dope man swag, take a look at these jewels
Every one of 'em rocked up
And we still on the corner packed in
Ace town president somethin' back then
Hope the slut that I'm with got insurance so
She know I'm about to run up on her back end
Like I set of bad, she was gettin' plugged
Can take it to the streets, take it to the club
I don't rubber band shit I got trash bags
Niggas make it rain, I'ma make it flood
I ain't gonna talk shit I'ma talk bread
I f a hater don't like it, tell 'em drop dead
I'm in the hood like a fresh set of projects
Where they either rock blue or they rock red
I'm the king of the streets
Ain't nobody finna take away what I came to get
Audi R8 that I came is sick, with interior the color of a all white?
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
(And make 'em pick it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
(And make 'em pick it all up)
Big weed in my joint, diss me there's no point
Lil guy but still all my n-ggas got big heat they on point
Rollin up while I drive, engine be in the trunk
Decided in 2005 that I can fuck any bitch that I want
Ooh, and, and and I ain't trying to stunt
This a two seater my bitch can't help but ride up in the front
Ballin' most n-ggas wont try to pick 'em up
Throwin' so much money you even try to pick some up
You tryin' different stuff look at how I block 'em out
Smoke like a Cali nigga even when I'm in the south
And when when my car come out the whores come out
Don't even get on twitter no more
'cause I'm what your bitch talkin' 'bout
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
(And make 'em pick it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
(And make 'em pick it all up)
I go hard, I go hard, gettin' paid
I go hard, I go hard, gettin' paid
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
And make 'em pick it all up
Money strapped to my waist
Somewhere in the whip I'm in with no bass
Flooded the trap I need a new place?
Money got to go I told 'em there's no space
Never love hoes, hoes I don't chase
Only wear loc's the same as my race
All I know is stunt, make a hater feel like shit to the point
That he in another place? Real talk
I-I-I ain't the one but I lean on haters, looking so clean on gator
Try to jack me, I guarantee I'll put the beam on haters
Hood nigga, when I come to this I'm stocked up
Shit on my wrist tryna light this block up
Nigga said I got a dope man swag, take a look at these jewels
Every one of 'em rocked up
And we still on the corner packed in
Ace town president somethin' back then
Hope the slut that I'm with got insurance so
She know I'm about to run up on her back end
Like I set of bad, she was gettin' plugged
Can take it to the streets, take it to the club
I don't rubber band shit I got trash bags
Niggas make it rain, I'ma make it flood
I ain't gonna talk shit I'ma talk bread
I f a hater don't like it, tell 'em drop dead
I'm in the hood like a fresh set of projects
Where they either rock blue or they rock red
I'm the king of the streets
Ain't nobody finna take away what I came to get
Audi R8 that I came is sick, with interior the color of a all white?
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
(And make 'em pick it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
(And make 'em pick it all up)
Big weed in my joint, diss me there's no point
Lil guy but still all my n-ggas got big heat they on point
Rollin up while I drive, engine be in the trunk
Decided in 2005 that I can fuck any bitch that I want
Ooh, and, and and I ain't trying to stunt
This a two seater my bitch can't help but ride up in the front
Ballin' most n-ggas wont try to pick 'em up
Throwin' so much money you even try to pick some up
You tryin' different stuff look at how I block 'em out
Smoke like a Cali nigga even when I'm in the south
And when when my car come out the whores come out
Don't even get on twitter no more
'cause I'm what your bitch talkin' 'bout
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
(And make 'em pick it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just blow it
(We spend it all up)
We don't even count the money no more we just throw it
(And make 'em pick it all up)
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Gettin Paid Lyrics as written by
Lyrics © TUNECORE INC, TuneCore Inc.
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