This song was originally written by a guy called Peter Gutteridge. He was one of the founders of the "Dunedin Sound" a musical scene in the south of New Zealand in the early 80s. From there it was covered by "The Clean" one of the early bands of that scene (he had originally been a member of in it's early days, writing a couple of their best early songs). The Dunedin sound, and the Clean became popular on american college radio in the mid to late 80s. I guess Yo La Tengo heard that version.
Great version of a great song,
(Yeah, Big Snoop Dogg, X to the Z)
Yeah
(Uncle L, blast these bitch ass motherfuckers)
Yeah, yeah
Pour your Dom on the floor, try to flow with me
Duke 'em raw with them whores, hide ya hoes from me (woo)
Your mama wanna chase, I'm just statin' the fact
L.A. think about your broad all I want is the stacks
Cats flashin' in my face is who I'm laughin' at
So you made a little dough, but what you doin' wit that?
Thought 'cha girl ain't feeling me
Why she grillin' me, Black?
Admit I'm the man or else I'll twist ya uterus back
On my lap, in the jet to Miami and back
When I tear through new school, all y'all records is whack
I'm from Q, for Quiet Killers
And you know I deliver
The double N, enough ammo for every nigga
S, that spell Queens stupid ass, run it back
That HBO shit, I must address that
Once and for all, what's my opinion on Jamie Foxx?
He pussy, plus he ain't funny as Chris Rock, ha
You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me
Loko
Who you thought it was? Don't be fuckin' wit my Uncle, cuz
One does up dick the pen in my streets go one way
I kill 'em In Living Color, on Any Given Sunday
They all anxious to be waitin' to see how ill is my style
And if it enough to make Kevin Lyle spit this out right now
And get 'em with Juvenile feed pitbull puppies, bologna in the projects
You wanna die next?
Nah, he wanna live, and he loves his kids
We got this rap game on lock, like a cake rock
Gimme the key, run up in your spot
Like, you on your belly, gimme the key
What is it gonna be, what it is gonna see?
When your blutter don't mean
And I keep tryna wipe it off, like, "Nigga, what's on me?"
L got 'em cornered, bitch, why you speak like that?
Tattooed Def Jam under your wing like that
What? You a rider, not in my house, Mouth
Glad to escape down south to my Miami house
And fifty spring in the couch
You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me
Let's play a game of big bank take little bank (yeah)
Big dank take little dank (yeah)
I average ninety-five in the paint (c'mon)
We comin' down like a shank
I know you wanna ride, but you can't
We all up in your shit like a shank (uh)
Don't make me stop and pull brakes
Ya two downs are looking cool, freaking a sound
Yo, I get fucked up and terrorize the town
I'm the circus ring master so fuck the clowns
I bust, lyrics and rounds at the Lyricist Lounge
Lost and Found a new identity, from here to infinity (yeah)
God have mercy on all my enemies
Don't even test, waist your breath or your energy
Knock ya whole family off, like the Kennedy's
I'm pledge sicker than age, with no type of remedy
Makin' niggas retire but reclaim disability
Agility, keepin' y'all outta the state penitentiary
You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me
Look, nigga I, regulate, bake the cake
Shake the fake, while keeping my faith
Demonstatin' from the funk shit to the H
I bring the bread to the meat, so put the funk on the plate
You weedin' at my table, did you say your grace? (huh)
You say the wrong thing and I'ma smack your face (bitch)
Chase these niggas or waste these niggas (say what)
You did fucked up, cuz, I'm break these niggas
Sprayed them, liquidate 'em, fade 'em all
Suckers, I hate 'em, laws I pay them off
Big Dogg, in this motherfuckin' bar
Wit Uncle L, don't tell Baby Dogg, "Yes y'all"
We do this with no flaws
I love my bitch wit no drawers and no bras
No laws, we break 'em from the get-go
Slidin' by, riding high when we get-go
Love it or leave it, we love livin illegal
Servin' or swerving in a '85 Regal
Look here, bitch, you ain't a motherfuckin' beagle
I take off on your ass like an eagle
Wherever we go, we stay connected with my peoples
Just in case a motherfucker wanna G Funk
Two of the homies, and one of 'em got a piece on
And they never hesitate to dissolve
Yeah
(Uncle L, blast these bitch ass motherfuckers)
Yeah, yeah
Pour your Dom on the floor, try to flow with me
Duke 'em raw with them whores, hide ya hoes from me (woo)
Your mama wanna chase, I'm just statin' the fact
L.A. think about your broad all I want is the stacks
Cats flashin' in my face is who I'm laughin' at
So you made a little dough, but what you doin' wit that?
Thought 'cha girl ain't feeling me
Why she grillin' me, Black?
Admit I'm the man or else I'll twist ya uterus back
On my lap, in the jet to Miami and back
When I tear through new school, all y'all records is whack
I'm from Q, for Quiet Killers
And you know I deliver
The double N, enough ammo for every nigga
S, that spell Queens stupid ass, run it back
That HBO shit, I must address that
Once and for all, what's my opinion on Jamie Foxx?
He pussy, plus he ain't funny as Chris Rock, ha
You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me
Loko
Who you thought it was? Don't be fuckin' wit my Uncle, cuz
One does up dick the pen in my streets go one way
I kill 'em In Living Color, on Any Given Sunday
They all anxious to be waitin' to see how ill is my style
And if it enough to make Kevin Lyle spit this out right now
And get 'em with Juvenile feed pitbull puppies, bologna in the projects
You wanna die next?
Nah, he wanna live, and he loves his kids
We got this rap game on lock, like a cake rock
Gimme the key, run up in your spot
Like, you on your belly, gimme the key
What is it gonna be, what it is gonna see?
When your blutter don't mean
And I keep tryna wipe it off, like, "Nigga, what's on me?"
L got 'em cornered, bitch, why you speak like that?
Tattooed Def Jam under your wing like that
What? You a rider, not in my house, Mouth
Glad to escape down south to my Miami house
And fifty spring in the couch
You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me
Let's play a game of big bank take little bank (yeah)
Big dank take little dank (yeah)
I average ninety-five in the paint (c'mon)
We comin' down like a shank
I know you wanna ride, but you can't
We all up in your shit like a shank (uh)
Don't make me stop and pull brakes
Ya two downs are looking cool, freaking a sound
Yo, I get fucked up and terrorize the town
I'm the circus ring master so fuck the clowns
I bust, lyrics and rounds at the Lyricist Lounge
Lost and Found a new identity, from here to infinity (yeah)
God have mercy on all my enemies
Don't even test, waist your breath or your energy
Knock ya whole family off, like the Kennedy's
I'm pledge sicker than age, with no type of remedy
Makin' niggas retire but reclaim disability
Agility, keepin' y'all outta the state penitentiary
You can't fuck wit me
(Can't fuck with me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fuck, nigga)
Give a fuck who you claim to be
(Fucker, c'mon)
You still can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
You can't fuck wit me (you can't fuck wit me)
I don't care about your imagery
(Fucker) motherfucker
Give a fuck who you claim to be
Yeah (nigga, what)
You still can't fuck wit me
Look, nigga I, regulate, bake the cake
Shake the fake, while keeping my faith
Demonstatin' from the funk shit to the H
I bring the bread to the meat, so put the funk on the plate
You weedin' at my table, did you say your grace? (huh)
You say the wrong thing and I'ma smack your face (bitch)
Chase these niggas or waste these niggas (say what)
You did fucked up, cuz, I'm break these niggas
Sprayed them, liquidate 'em, fade 'em all
Suckers, I hate 'em, laws I pay them off
Big Dogg, in this motherfuckin' bar
Wit Uncle L, don't tell Baby Dogg, "Yes y'all"
We do this with no flaws
I love my bitch wit no drawers and no bras
No laws, we break 'em from the get-go
Slidin' by, riding high when we get-go
Love it or leave it, we love livin illegal
Servin' or swerving in a '85 Regal
Look here, bitch, you ain't a motherfuckin' beagle
I take off on your ass like an eagle
Wherever we go, we stay connected with my peoples
Just in case a motherfucker wanna G Funk
Two of the homies, and one of 'em got a piece on
And they never hesitate to dissolve
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More Featured Meanings
Gentle Hour
Yo La Tengo
Yo La Tengo
No Surprises
Radiohead
Radiohead
Same ideas expressed in Fitter, Happier are expressed in this song. We're told to strive for some sort of ideal life, which includes getting a good job, being kind to everyone, finding a partner, getting married, having a couple kids, living in a quiet neighborhood in a nice big house, etc. But in Fitter, Happier the narrator(?) realizes that it's incredibly robotic to live this life. People are being used by those in power "like a pig in a cage on antibiotics"--being pacified with things like new phones and cool gadgets and houses while being sucked dry. On No Surprises, the narrator is realizing how this life is killing him slowly. In the video, his helmet is slowly filling up with water, drowning him. But he's so complacent with it. This is a good summary of the song. This boring, "perfect" life foisted upon us by some higher powers (not spiritual, but political, economic, etc. politicians and businessmen, perhaps) is not the way to live. But there is seemingly no way out but death. He'd rather die peacefully right now than live in this cage. While our lives are often shielded, we're in our own protective bubbles, or protective helmets like the one Thom wears, if we look a little harder we can see all the corruption, lies, manipulation, etc. that is going on in the world, often run by huge yet nearly invisible organizations, corporations, and 'leaders'. It's a very hopeless song because it reflects real life.
Blue
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
“Blue” is a song about a love that is persisting in the discomfort of the person experiencing the emotion. Ed Sheeran reflects on love lost, and although he wishes his former partner find happiness, he cannot but admit his feelings are still very much there. He expresses the realization that he might never find another on this stringed instrumental by Aaron Dessner.
Punchline
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran sings about missing his former partner and learning important life lessons in the process on “Punchline.” This track tells a story of battling to get rid of emotions for a former lover, whom he now realized might not have loved him the same way. He’s now caught between accepting that fact and learning life lessons from it and going back to beg her for another chance.
Plastic Bag
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
“Plastic Bag” is a song about searching for an escape from personal problems and hoping to find it in the lively atmosphere of a Saturday night party. Ed Sheeran tells the story of his friend and the myriad of troubles he is going through. Unable to find any solutions, this friend seeks a last resort in a party and the vanity that comes with it.
“I overthink and have trouble sleepin’ / All purpose gone and don’t have a reason / And there’s no doctor to stop this bleedin’ / So I left home and jumped in the deep end,” Ed Sheeran sings in verse one. He continues by adding that this person is feeling the weight of having disappointed his father and doesn’t have any friends to rely on in this difficult moment. In the second verse, Ed sings about the role of grief in his friend’s plight and his dwindling faith in prayer. “Saturday night is givin’ me a reason to rely on the strobe lights / The lifeline of a promise in a shot glass, and I’ll take that / If you’re givin’ out love from a plastic bag,” Ed sings on the chorus, as his friend turns to new vices in hopes of feeling better.