"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.
All-American self-hatred runs deep
White boys all I see whenever I sleep
Niggas think I think these thoughts on purpose
But I knew 'bout NSYNC 'fore cash could rule me
Colonized minds by masters and slaves
They both hate niggas that like niggas the same
Homophobic, I tried to gang bang
I tried to get laid, I had to get paid
Hopped off the ship, I land on my feet
In Corpus Christi I got my own street
Runnin' this shit like it's a track meet
I had to go back home, I seen too many niggas die in a week
I give my dogs black wealth, let 'em live well
What a miracle we dreamed a million stories to tell
You are now tuned in, baby, to the new classic
New machine, keep the peace, keep 'em dancin'
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party
Please, please
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party
Please, please
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up my party
Please, please (please, please)
Please, please (please, please, please, please)
This a jam for you whims and you woes
For the people in the back standin' on they tippy toes
Don't give a damn what the journalist wrote
Always dead inside like they in the catacombs
On the prowl like a lion in his throne
Watchin' for the prey that might slit his throat
It's 'bout time that I let your ass know
Y'all deserve the guillotine even more (uh-oh)
Kiss my ass, treat my balls like it's mistletoe
Fuck class, get cash by the truckload
Latest album with my dogs but the city closed
You in for a hell of a ride, uh-oh
This a good time, know I'm damn right
Order every single bottle of the best wine
Fuck if I know, need it all though
Dedicate this to my family in Chicago
Stay down, I'm sorry
Stay down, you're ugly
Uh-oh, oh
The people need more of the money
These white people don't love me
Uh-oh, oh
Stay down, I'm sorry
Stay down, we're hungry
Uh-oh, oh
I don't need you to love me
Fuck you, come fuck me
I know
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party
Please, please
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party
Please, please
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up my party
Please, please (please, please)
Please, please (please, please, please, please)
What's the issue?
Why you gotta grab that pistol?
Think about who gon' miss you
Never know what I been through
What's the issue?
Why you gotta grab that pistol?
Think about who gon' miss you
Never know what they might do
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the
(Yeah)
(Who you really wanna try to step to?)
(Try to step to?)
(Who you really wanna try to step to?)
(Oh)
(Oh, yeah)
White boys all I see whenever I sleep
Niggas think I think these thoughts on purpose
But I knew 'bout NSYNC 'fore cash could rule me
Colonized minds by masters and slaves
They both hate niggas that like niggas the same
Homophobic, I tried to gang bang
I tried to get laid, I had to get paid
Hopped off the ship, I land on my feet
In Corpus Christi I got my own street
Runnin' this shit like it's a track meet
I had to go back home, I seen too many niggas die in a week
I give my dogs black wealth, let 'em live well
What a miracle we dreamed a million stories to tell
You are now tuned in, baby, to the new classic
New machine, keep the peace, keep 'em dancin'
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party
Please, please
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party
Please, please
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up my party
Please, please (please, please)
Please, please (please, please, please, please)
This a jam for you whims and you woes
For the people in the back standin' on they tippy toes
Don't give a damn what the journalist wrote
Always dead inside like they in the catacombs
On the prowl like a lion in his throne
Watchin' for the prey that might slit his throat
It's 'bout time that I let your ass know
Y'all deserve the guillotine even more (uh-oh)
Kiss my ass, treat my balls like it's mistletoe
Fuck class, get cash by the truckload
Latest album with my dogs but the city closed
You in for a hell of a ride, uh-oh
This a good time, know I'm damn right
Order every single bottle of the best wine
Fuck if I know, need it all though
Dedicate this to my family in Chicago
Stay down, I'm sorry
Stay down, you're ugly
Uh-oh, oh
The people need more of the money
These white people don't love me
Uh-oh, oh
Stay down, I'm sorry
Stay down, we're hungry
Uh-oh, oh
I don't need you to love me
Fuck you, come fuck me
I know
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party
Please, please
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party
Please, please
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up my party
Please, please (please, please)
Please, please (please, please, please, please)
What's the issue?
Why you gotta grab that pistol?
Think about who gon' miss you
Never know what I been through
What's the issue?
Why you gotta grab that pistol?
Think about who gon' miss you
Never know what they might do
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the
(Yeah)
(Who you really wanna try to step to?)
(Try to step to?)
(Who you really wanna try to step to?)
(Oh)
(Oh, yeah)
Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher
DON'T SHOOT UP THE PARTY Lyrics as written by Ciaran Mcdonald Baird Robert Wittner Acheson
Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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Fast Car
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