"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.
Weeble-lations
Weeble-lations testin', testin'
Testin, testin
Hey, turn my mic up, this a bitch, I got my dudes up in this mutha
Fucka, that boy Eightball, 4-Tay, Speeze-weeze, Spice-weeze, ya smell
Me? It's E-feeze. Mutha fuckaz ain't understandin' the signs of this, I
Cuss a mutha fucka out
Niggas gonna be feelin', what I'm revealin'
Tryin to do some healin', an at the same time make a million
Vibrate love an happiness in this ghetto maze
Hate us playaz got this ryhme stayin' in a rage
Kill wit a pill, broke game like Nintendo
Three hours an fourty-four minutes straight to Frisco
Bumpin the Rappin, 4-Tayzee baby
Me an 40 Water in the big body Mercedez
Four hundred, five hundred V-12 black coupe
None of my weebles wake that barkley comin' out the roof
Choppin' major game on the strength
Man we goes back juss like them splinters an 'em temps, uh
Met this bitch that was in Houston, said she was from Houston
Said her profession was stackin' major paper roll
First at times it seems, gold credit cards we get that ass
Went from bennies to bossalini's, collectin cash
They whistlin', I'm glistin' like Sammy Davis
Born an raised in the Bay them hataz can't fade us
I am the rapper that they call 4-Tay
360 degrees, they can't fade the Yay, fool
Fuckin' off in the Bay wit some crazy niggas
Gettin' drunk, gettin high so they saved ya nigga
From the bottom of the stream to the top of the mountian
In the "O" straight clownin'
Talkin bout whats goin down an
These niggas feelin' me
Soakin' up the love I give
Nigga all of us got kids, an only got one life to live
But sometimes that shit don't matta
Animosity can lead we to ratta-tatta
Splatta
All over shit, an leave tricks motionless
Drinkin' blood like I, an spittin' fire like kiss
The only nigga sick as this
Behind me
Is the gangsta, S-P-I-C-E
Yeah smell me
Yo five albums in the game
500 Benzo in my name
Five niggas in a bucket
Five zig-zags to the brain
To the greedy lil paper, I'm on the MTV news
I'm havin slugs fo shistey niggas, tryin' ta give me the blues
I ain't a mutha fuckin' Italian
But my crew run like the Mafia
Eightball, 4-Tay, Banks, an 40 Water
An me Bossalini, Freddy Chico, Chanelle shit
Met a couple of inncidents where some niggas tried to kill me
Juss a part of the game
Jelous niggas out fo fame
When steady bustin' at me
Is to give no names
But when they runnin' up on this muthafuckin' Don
They catchin' pieces of hell
Hot slugs from a nigga that's fresh out on bail
Long time comin' baby
Somewhere off in the hills
Me an 40 Waters choppin' it up, keep or kill
On the real about this underground lifestyle
Intoxicated
An always heavily sedated
Bank's rocks the beat
I grab the mic an bust
Turn into a monster
Eatin' weak mc's up
Smokin' trees up
Pinnin' hoes knees up
Feds wouldn't ease up
Had to put the keys up
Findin' Jesus prayin' fo the weak
Hopin' somebody's on they knees prayin' for me
In the midnight hour somewhere on them drugs
In a room full 'o thugs, 40 tell em how it was
They shot my mama's house up, back in 1992 ('92)
I keep goin' back an play possum like I don't know who
If I knew who, what, when, where an how
If I knew back then, would I know now?
The rap game ain't never gonna be decreasin'
The only thing the rap game
Gonna keep on doin' is increasin' (increasin)
There will be no over-night sensations
Them 40, Eightball, MJG, only drip
We been layin' it down since trout season
Now all of a sudden I look good as Toni Braxton
In a white house wit toys of traction
Uppercussion, ya may wanna take a second look
You can find me in the Florida designs book
The hall of game, is a 420 wit chrome rims all day (all day)
Parked up on
Nigga this ain't none of that
Only reason I'm doin' a song wit dude an 'em is 'cause
Can't be no bigga pimp than me nigga
360 degrees of game
Talkin' bout game
Talkin' bout game
360 degrees of game
Wit hella bomb on the brain
Weeble-lations testin', testin'
Testin, testin
Hey, turn my mic up, this a bitch, I got my dudes up in this mutha
Fucka, that boy Eightball, 4-Tay, Speeze-weeze, Spice-weeze, ya smell
Me? It's E-feeze. Mutha fuckaz ain't understandin' the signs of this, I
Cuss a mutha fucka out
Niggas gonna be feelin', what I'm revealin'
Tryin to do some healin', an at the same time make a million
Vibrate love an happiness in this ghetto maze
Hate us playaz got this ryhme stayin' in a rage
Kill wit a pill, broke game like Nintendo
Three hours an fourty-four minutes straight to Frisco
Bumpin the Rappin, 4-Tayzee baby
Me an 40 Water in the big body Mercedez
Four hundred, five hundred V-12 black coupe
None of my weebles wake that barkley comin' out the roof
Choppin' major game on the strength
Man we goes back juss like them splinters an 'em temps, uh
Met this bitch that was in Houston, said she was from Houston
Said her profession was stackin' major paper roll
First at times it seems, gold credit cards we get that ass
Went from bennies to bossalini's, collectin cash
They whistlin', I'm glistin' like Sammy Davis
Born an raised in the Bay them hataz can't fade us
I am the rapper that they call 4-Tay
360 degrees, they can't fade the Yay, fool
Fuckin' off in the Bay wit some crazy niggas
Gettin' drunk, gettin high so they saved ya nigga
From the bottom of the stream to the top of the mountian
In the "O" straight clownin'
Talkin bout whats goin down an
These niggas feelin' me
Soakin' up the love I give
Nigga all of us got kids, an only got one life to live
But sometimes that shit don't matta
Animosity can lead we to ratta-tatta
Splatta
All over shit, an leave tricks motionless
Drinkin' blood like I, an spittin' fire like kiss
The only nigga sick as this
Behind me
Is the gangsta, S-P-I-C-E
Yeah smell me
Yo five albums in the game
500 Benzo in my name
Five niggas in a bucket
Five zig-zags to the brain
To the greedy lil paper, I'm on the MTV news
I'm havin slugs fo shistey niggas, tryin' ta give me the blues
I ain't a mutha fuckin' Italian
But my crew run like the Mafia
Eightball, 4-Tay, Banks, an 40 Water
An me Bossalini, Freddy Chico, Chanelle shit
Met a couple of inncidents where some niggas tried to kill me
Juss a part of the game
Jelous niggas out fo fame
When steady bustin' at me
Is to give no names
But when they runnin' up on this muthafuckin' Don
They catchin' pieces of hell
Hot slugs from a nigga that's fresh out on bail
Long time comin' baby
Somewhere off in the hills
Me an 40 Waters choppin' it up, keep or kill
On the real about this underground lifestyle
Intoxicated
An always heavily sedated
Bank's rocks the beat
I grab the mic an bust
Turn into a monster
Eatin' weak mc's up
Smokin' trees up
Pinnin' hoes knees up
Feds wouldn't ease up
Had to put the keys up
Findin' Jesus prayin' fo the weak
Hopin' somebody's on they knees prayin' for me
In the midnight hour somewhere on them drugs
In a room full 'o thugs, 40 tell em how it was
They shot my mama's house up, back in 1992 ('92)
I keep goin' back an play possum like I don't know who
If I knew who, what, when, where an how
If I knew back then, would I know now?
The rap game ain't never gonna be decreasin'
The only thing the rap game
Gonna keep on doin' is increasin' (increasin)
There will be no over-night sensations
Them 40, Eightball, MJG, only drip
We been layin' it down since trout season
Now all of a sudden I look good as Toni Braxton
In a white house wit toys of traction
Uppercussion, ya may wanna take a second look
You can find me in the Florida designs book
The hall of game, is a 420 wit chrome rims all day (all day)
Parked up on
Nigga this ain't none of that
Only reason I'm doin' a song wit dude an 'em is 'cause
Can't be no bigga pimp than me nigga
360 degrees of game
Talkin' bout game
Talkin' bout game
360 degrees of game
Wit hella bomb on the brain
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
360 Degrees Lyrics as written by Anthony Banks Premro Smith
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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