"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.
Turn that motherfucker louder
It's the Roc in this motherfucker (biatch), oh, yeah
Bounce (uh-uh, yeah), bounce (uh, oh, yeah, uh-huh, yeah)
Bounce (come on), oh (come on), yeah
Bounce (yeah), bounce (come on)
Now do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Do my ladies run it? Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air if it's the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it? Let 'em know that you still gunnin'
Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'
Yo, I come through, few of my mans, scoop you and your friends
You, you, and you with the Timbs
In tight jeans, Chinese eyes, Indian hair
Black girl ass, let me pour you a glass
Of Belvi, tell me all about your past
Let me console your soul while I palm your ass
And your man did what? He ain't give you?
He cheated with her? I can't diss duke
I tell you this, though, get with this dude
I'll teach you about dough, and show you what this do
It's a secret society, all we ask is trust
But I don't freeze wristses, I just skeeze bitches
Break up happy homes, just seize missus
You'll never get her back, once you get a yap
How you love that?
How you love that?
Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Do my ladies run it? Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air if it's the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it? Let 'em know that you still gunnin'
Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'
Ayo, Backwoods rollin', rap, you can't hold 'em
Roc gear matchin', crusin' through Manhattan
Bleek is chillin', Murda is chillin'
What more can I say? We still killin' 'em
Packs, we still dealin' 'em, four wheels, we wheelin' 'em
Chicks like, "I'm feelin' him", yeah, ma, okay
Black jeans and Timberlands give 'em adrenaline rush
Ladies know the difference between them niggas and us
We the R-O-C and we don't stop
They don't make a gun that we don't pop
Matter fact, they don't make a car that we don't drop
Thought you knew, they don't make jewels that we don't cop
What, you new? You actin' like the Roc ain't hot
Or the car that I cop ain't missin' a top
And even if they don't make drops that kind
I tear the roof off like I'm Busta Rhymes, motherfucker
Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Do my ladies run it? Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air if it's the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it? Let 'em know that you still gunnin'
Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'
Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Uh-huh, uh-huh, okay)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Uh-huh, okay, uh-huh)
It's the R-O-C, we don't stop
It's the R-O-C, we don't stop
R-O-C, we don't stop
Uh, Memph' Bleek, The Understanding, niggas
Get your mind right, haha, haha (woo)
It's the Roc in this motherfucker (biatch), oh, yeah
Bounce (uh-uh, yeah), bounce (uh, oh, yeah, uh-huh, yeah)
Bounce (come on), oh (come on), yeah
Bounce (yeah), bounce (come on)
Now do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Do my ladies run it? Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air if it's the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it? Let 'em know that you still gunnin'
Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'
Yo, I come through, few of my mans, scoop you and your friends
You, you, and you with the Timbs
In tight jeans, Chinese eyes, Indian hair
Black girl ass, let me pour you a glass
Of Belvi, tell me all about your past
Let me console your soul while I palm your ass
And your man did what? He ain't give you?
He cheated with her? I can't diss duke
I tell you this, though, get with this dude
I'll teach you about dough, and show you what this do
It's a secret society, all we ask is trust
But I don't freeze wristses, I just skeeze bitches
Break up happy homes, just seize missus
You'll never get her back, once you get a yap
How you love that?
How you love that?
Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Do my ladies run it? Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air if it's the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it? Let 'em know that you still gunnin'
Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'
Ayo, Backwoods rollin', rap, you can't hold 'em
Roc gear matchin', crusin' through Manhattan
Bleek is chillin', Murda is chillin'
What more can I say? We still killin' 'em
Packs, we still dealin' 'em, four wheels, we wheelin' 'em
Chicks like, "I'm feelin' him", yeah, ma, okay
Black jeans and Timberlands give 'em adrenaline rush
Ladies know the difference between them niggas and us
We the R-O-C and we don't stop
They don't make a gun that we don't pop
Matter fact, they don't make a car that we don't drop
Thought you knew, they don't make jewels that we don't cop
What, you new? You actin' like the Roc ain't hot
Or the car that I cop ain't missin' a top
And even if they don't make drops that kind
I tear the roof off like I'm Busta Rhymes, motherfucker
Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, come on)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Do my ladies run it? Fat asses and flat stomachs
Throw a hand in the air if it's the year of the woman
Or my dogs run it? Let 'em know that you still gunnin'
Throw a drink in the air let 'em know you still thuggin'
Do my ladies run this motherfucker? (Uh-huh, uh-huh, okay)
Or do my thugs run this motherfucker? (Uh-huh, okay, uh-huh)
It's the R-O-C, we don't stop
It's the R-O-C, we don't stop
R-O-C, we don't stop
Uh, Memph' Bleek, The Understanding, niggas
Get your mind right, haha, haha (woo)
Lyrics submitted by spliphstar
Do My... Lyrics as written by Shawn C Carter Shawn Carter
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Royalty Network, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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More Featured Meanings
Fast Car
Tracy Chapman
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Holiday
Bee Gees
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@[Diderik:33655] "Your a holiday!" Was a popular term used in the 50s/60s to compliment someone on their all around. For example, not only are they beautiful, but they are fun and kind too ... just an all around "holiday".
I think your first comment is closer to being accurate. The singer/song writers state "Millions of eyes can see, yet why am i so blind!? When the someone else is me, its unkind its unkind". I believe hes referring to the girl toying with him and using him. He wants something deeper with her, thats why he allows himself to be as a puppet (even though for her fun and games) as long as it makes her happy. But he knows deep down that she doesnt really want to be serious with him and thats what makes him.
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How would you describe the feeling of being in love? For Ed Sheeran, the word is “Magical.” in HIS three-minute album opener, he makes an attempt to capture the beauty and delicacy of true love with words. He describes the magic of it all over a bright Pop song produced 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.