"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.
Get all my peoples, get all my peoples headphones
All of em
Lay em a death warrant
Ah, yo, show it off, kid, show em, what, what
Let em have it, bust it, hey yo, hey yo
Blend wine, who want to win mine
Shorty get a ten-round for floatin
With the richest, huh
Flexed out, Flinstone style
Your crimi-nal pen pal kidnapped Loud, jetted the
Mosyin, posin for them niggas up in Poland
Rollin wax style museum, G 'em
Them richest niggas bless this
Like Russian cut VVS's
Slide the hatchback, black were finessing this
Them niggas over there know, Gazelle goggles
And them Lottos, 88 style, throwin' bottles (bottles)
Scenario rap, rap imperial, material (uh, yo yo, yo, yo)
Murderin' cats is like that real
Yo come do me somethin word to Michelob peep the Land Rov'
Sleeper hold club faggots lay your dome on a stove
It's like space kid, the whole world is pitch black, granola rap
Dough got smaller famous team, walked up in Fotomat
Black down, numerous rounds, boots is brown
Getaway driver, this white bitch from out of town
We love horse races shakin Jakes and high-speed chases
Porno stations, drinkin violations, godly nations
90 minute Maxell tapes, instrumental breaks
Bangin earaches, lay my verse down in two takes
The speaker pops, the Winchester rifle's in the kitchen
Murder the DJ's eyes twitchin, woofer hissin
Yo, he's strong armin, manipulatin niggas, scrapin niggas
Takin play from niggas, hate fakin niggas, yo you hear me?
The whole shit's like wrestling
What you dare me? Back the fuck up kid, we flexin
This rap shit bust yo' gums, and leave you stunned
Pull your plug, now you can't function
There's no to-tal or sum to this equa-tion, you fro-zen
Many may come but few are cho-sen
Pretty niggas want to play the war po-sin
When the ruckus come, they be the first to get their shine stolen
Do or die, it be I, Meta-physical Man
Holding court from my Wu, indivisible clan
I see your thoughts and your hand reachin
It's getting deep in this mud
Cats heat seekin, for one blood
Nameless thugs with aimless slugs, shootin at these stank bitches
Less he gon' bring this above, I make switches
From the lamp I grant three wishes
Johnny be parlayin, I Blaze britches, then I roll
One hundred percent mind, one hundred percent body
One hundred percent soul, individual
Assholes tend to run
From this PLO extortion to the one
The next chamber, you fuckin with the star spangler
To the dawn's early light with this head-banger
Boogie, represent this shit fully
Like I'm constantly at war with the town bully
Who want that pressure, about to get smacked silly
Like a fat bitch in Spandex, free Willy!
We on some milli, check the joint, engine number nine
Niggas wastin time worryin about me and mine
Get your own shit
All of em
Lay em a death warrant
Ah, yo, show it off, kid, show em, what, what
Let em have it, bust it, hey yo, hey yo
Blend wine, who want to win mine
Shorty get a ten-round for floatin
With the richest, huh
Flexed out, Flinstone style
Your crimi-nal pen pal kidnapped Loud, jetted the
Mosyin, posin for them niggas up in Poland
Rollin wax style museum, G 'em
Them richest niggas bless this
Like Russian cut VVS's
Slide the hatchback, black were finessing this
Them niggas over there know, Gazelle goggles
And them Lottos, 88 style, throwin' bottles (bottles)
Scenario rap, rap imperial, material (uh, yo yo, yo, yo)
Murderin' cats is like that real
Yo come do me somethin word to Michelob peep the Land Rov'
Sleeper hold club faggots lay your dome on a stove
It's like space kid, the whole world is pitch black, granola rap
Dough got smaller famous team, walked up in Fotomat
Black down, numerous rounds, boots is brown
Getaway driver, this white bitch from out of town
We love horse races shakin Jakes and high-speed chases
Porno stations, drinkin violations, godly nations
90 minute Maxell tapes, instrumental breaks
Bangin earaches, lay my verse down in two takes
The speaker pops, the Winchester rifle's in the kitchen
Murder the DJ's eyes twitchin, woofer hissin
Yo, he's strong armin, manipulatin niggas, scrapin niggas
Takin play from niggas, hate fakin niggas, yo you hear me?
The whole shit's like wrestling
What you dare me? Back the fuck up kid, we flexin
This rap shit bust yo' gums, and leave you stunned
Pull your plug, now you can't function
There's no to-tal or sum to this equa-tion, you fro-zen
Many may come but few are cho-sen
Pretty niggas want to play the war po-sin
When the ruckus come, they be the first to get their shine stolen
Do or die, it be I, Meta-physical Man
Holding court from my Wu, indivisible clan
I see your thoughts and your hand reachin
It's getting deep in this mud
Cats heat seekin, for one blood
Nameless thugs with aimless slugs, shootin at these stank bitches
Less he gon' bring this above, I make switches
From the lamp I grant three wishes
Johnny be parlayin, I Blaze britches, then I roll
One hundred percent mind, one hundred percent body
One hundred percent soul, individual
Assholes tend to run
From this PLO extortion to the one
The next chamber, you fuckin with the star spangler
To the dawn's early light with this head-banger
Boogie, represent this shit fully
Like I'm constantly at war with the town bully
Who want that pressure, about to get smacked silly
Like a fat bitch in Spandex, free Willy!
We on some milli, check the joint, engine number nine
Niggas wastin time worryin about me and mine
Get your own shit
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Box in Hand Lyrics as written by Dennis David Coles Clifford Smith
Lyrics © Raleigh Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Spirit Music Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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Fast Car
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This is a hauntingly beautiful song about introspection, specifically about looking back at a relationship that started bad and ended so poorly, that the narrator wants to go back to the very beginning and tell himself to not even travel down that road. I believe that the relationship started poorly because of the lines:
"Take me back to the night we met:When the night was full of terrors: And your eyes were filled with tears: When you had not touched me yet"
So, the first night was not a great start, but the narrator pursued the relationship and eventually both overcame the rough start to fall in love with each other:
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Like many relationships that turn sour, it was not a quick decline, but a gradual one where the narrator and their partner fall out of love and gradually grow apart
"Some and now none of you"
Losing someone who was once everything in your world, who you could confide in, tell your secrets to, share all the most intimate parts of your life, to being strangers with that person is probably one of the most painful experiences a person can go through. So Painful, the narrator wants to go back in time and tell himself to not even pursue the relationship.
This was the perfect song for "13 Reasons Why"
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This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
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