"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.
Which of you schnooks took my rhyme book, look
Give it back, you're wicky-wack
With your ticky-tack calls, didn't touch you at all
I didn't touch your hand, man, you know it's all ball
You sold a few records but don't get slick
'Cause you used a corked bat to get those hits
Yeah you've been in the game, your career is long
But when you really break it down, you've only got two songs
MCs are like clay pigeons and I'm shootin' skeet
I just yell pull and Mike drops the beat
You people call yourselves MCs but you're garbage men
Takin' out the trash when you pull out the pen
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
Comin' in
Now, I read about you up on page six
They was trashin' your ass it's sad you're getting dissed
Now talk about your face now don't get pissed
But I suggest you see a dermatologist
I keep that hot sauce hot not mild and weak
It's gonna burn your mouth until you wet your beak
I've got billions and billions of rhymes to flex
'Cause I've got more rhymes than Carl Sagan's got turtlenecks
Your rhymes are fake like a Canal Street watch
You're hearing me and you're like "oh my God its Sasquatch!"
But I'm walkin' on water while you're stepping in shit
So put your sewer boots on before your ass gets licked
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
And it you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
Sucker MC's it's me they're resenting
In the animal kingdom they call it presenting
With the dipsy doo-doo the kit and kaboodle
The truth is brutal, your grandma's kugel
Kings County is my stomping ground
The Albee Square Mall, Brooklyn, Downtown
So don't ask me to wine and dine ya
I'm from Brooklyn you're from Regina
You're like Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam
You're just yellin', wildin', wondering who I am
With those lies you're telling you're like Toucan Sam
My style's impregnable like the Hoover Dam
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
Wow, what a loser!
Give it back, you're wicky-wack
With your ticky-tack calls, didn't touch you at all
I didn't touch your hand, man, you know it's all ball
You sold a few records but don't get slick
'Cause you used a corked bat to get those hits
Yeah you've been in the game, your career is long
But when you really break it down, you've only got two songs
MCs are like clay pigeons and I'm shootin' skeet
I just yell pull and Mike drops the beat
You people call yourselves MCs but you're garbage men
Takin' out the trash when you pull out the pen
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
Comin' in
Now, I read about you up on page six
They was trashin' your ass it's sad you're getting dissed
Now talk about your face now don't get pissed
But I suggest you see a dermatologist
I keep that hot sauce hot not mild and weak
It's gonna burn your mouth until you wet your beak
I've got billions and billions of rhymes to flex
'Cause I've got more rhymes than Carl Sagan's got turtlenecks
Your rhymes are fake like a Canal Street watch
You're hearing me and you're like "oh my God its Sasquatch!"
But I'm walkin' on water while you're stepping in shit
So put your sewer boots on before your ass gets licked
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
So put a quarter in your ass 'cause you played yourself
And it you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
Sucker MC's it's me they're resenting
In the animal kingdom they call it presenting
With the dipsy doo-doo the kit and kaboodle
The truth is brutal, your grandma's kugel
Kings County is my stomping ground
The Albee Square Mall, Brooklyn, Downtown
So don't ask me to wine and dine ya
I'm from Brooklyn you're from Regina
You're like Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam
You're just yellin', wildin', wondering who I am
With those lies you're telling you're like Toucan Sam
My style's impregnable like the Hoover Dam
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
And if you don't like it, then hey, fuck you
Wow, what a loser!
Lyrics submitted by maggotbrain
Hey Fuck You Lyrics as written by Adam Yauch Michael Diamond
Lyrics © CAK MUSIC PUBLISHING, INC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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that is like a cool song name