"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.
Ugh, Ehh, Uh!
(What, WHAT!) (What's bumpin', Baby Cham, Fox Brown) Uh!
Fox Brown, Baby Cham
Ugh, Kingston, Brooklyn, WHAT! Dave Kelly, Can't stop this, We did it again
What?! What?! Uh!
HY-YAH!
How many times I gotta let y'all bitches know I'm,
Why, so many bitches want to take my flow I'm,
Too hot, Too dope, Flow like that pink Cris and Momosa
Who the fuck dope-ah? (Ehh!)
Niggas want to run up in my spots and,
Every nigga want to pull off on my frock and,
Me and Cham do that Yard-Hip Hop and,
Y'all can't fuck with us, We keep niggas boppin' (Let 'em know now)
Tell dem ah ooman we a defend
Love to si di charlies inna Benz or a BM
Holla if ya livin' right
Get the benjamins, aight?
Let them know a money we a defen (Holla at us now)
I let dem' know already and I'm tellin' dem' again
We on another level, Fox Brown ah set the trend (We on another level)
Head's boppin' and, Collars poppin' and
Prada rockin' to the end (Can ya feel me?)
Breaker, Breaker
Call di undertaker, Niggas will' be dyyyy-in'
I am no fake-ah
Send 'dem niggas cryyyy-in' back to their maker
Muddafuckas tryyyy-in' to be a shake-ah
Ya didn't know they shouldn't mess wit' people from Jamaica
Baby Cham and Foxy Brown, a we take the cake-ah
Drop a bomb on them, Now it's like a earthquake-ah
See them fasis movin' like a snake-ah (ya heard me)
Ah whatta day when the tables will turn
Whatta day when the tables will turn,
Ah whatta day when the tables will turn
Whatta day when the tables will turn, (Wey eh)
Whatta day when the tables will turn
Whatta day when the tables will turn, (Yo)
Whatta day when the tables will turn
Whatta, day when the tables will turn,
Throw ya hands up, whyle the fuck out
Raw little peachy, bust the screechy (Eh!)
Zip it up, Uh, zip it up, Uh, zip it up, Uh, zip it up, HY-YAH!
Grab a couple stouts and, show 'em whatch'all 'bout
Y'all can't deny us, we dare y'all to try us
The best to ever do it, so throw ya hands to it
And hit the dancefloor, what the fuck y'all came for?
Hot shit, Ill Na Na, MadHouse, Lock this shit down
Nigga what, we don't give a fuck
Big Pussy like Sopranos, Young Fox ride big cock my nigga
An pupalik pon dat, Ehh
(What, WHAT!) (What's bumpin', Baby Cham, Fox Brown) Uh!
Fox Brown, Baby Cham
Ugh, Kingston, Brooklyn, WHAT! Dave Kelly, Can't stop this, We did it again
What?! What?! Uh!
HY-YAH!
How many times I gotta let y'all bitches know I'm,
Why, so many bitches want to take my flow I'm,
Too hot, Too dope, Flow like that pink Cris and Momosa
Who the fuck dope-ah? (Ehh!)
Niggas want to run up in my spots and,
Every nigga want to pull off on my frock and,
Me and Cham do that Yard-Hip Hop and,
Y'all can't fuck with us, We keep niggas boppin' (Let 'em know now)
Tell dem ah ooman we a defend
Love to si di charlies inna Benz or a BM
Holla if ya livin' right
Get the benjamins, aight?
Let them know a money we a defen (Holla at us now)
I let dem' know already and I'm tellin' dem' again
We on another level, Fox Brown ah set the trend (We on another level)
Head's boppin' and, Collars poppin' and
Prada rockin' to the end (Can ya feel me?)
Breaker, Breaker
Call di undertaker, Niggas will' be dyyyy-in'
I am no fake-ah
Send 'dem niggas cryyyy-in' back to their maker
Muddafuckas tryyyy-in' to be a shake-ah
Ya didn't know they shouldn't mess wit' people from Jamaica
Baby Cham and Foxy Brown, a we take the cake-ah
Drop a bomb on them, Now it's like a earthquake-ah
See them fasis movin' like a snake-ah (ya heard me)
Ah whatta day when the tables will turn
Whatta day when the tables will turn,
Ah whatta day when the tables will turn
Whatta day when the tables will turn, (Wey eh)
Whatta day when the tables will turn
Whatta day when the tables will turn, (Yo)
Whatta day when the tables will turn
Whatta, day when the tables will turn,
Throw ya hands up, whyle the fuck out
Raw little peachy, bust the screechy (Eh!)
Zip it up, Uh, zip it up, Uh, zip it up, Uh, zip it up, HY-YAH!
Grab a couple stouts and, show 'em whatch'all 'bout
Y'all can't deny us, we dare y'all to try us
The best to ever do it, so throw ya hands to it
And hit the dancefloor, what the fuck y'all came for?
Hot shit, Ill Na Na, MadHouse, Lock this shit down
Nigga what, we don't give a fuck
Big Pussy like Sopranos, Young Fox ride big cock my nigga
An pupalik pon dat, Ehh
Lyrics submitted by Playboy_StyLe
Tables Will Turn Lyrics as written by Dave Willard Anthony Kelly Dameon Beckett
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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