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,
What you gonna play now
Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.
Every geto got a different name, but they all the same
So Coolio loco gonna put you up on game
We got homies who sell straps
Homies who sell crack
Homies who sell the bomb chronic sacks thats a fact
Cause, you from the neighborhood niggas love
Pimps, players, suckers, hoes, forty thieves, ganstas, and thugs
To unwrap the strap before you know what
The loudmouth one loced up in front of the icecream truck
And broke all of the sills where the big G's live
The little homie be gettin' out on account
This time he might get stuck attempted
One eight seven and he's a minor with pride
So the DA want him tried as an adult
The big homey just had a son no joking
I think his baby's mom is smoking cause she always broke
And the young girls is dressing more and more sleazy
And everybody and their momma talking bout OJ defense
To the hoochies in the Hondas and Sentras
Young niggas fightin' their case with public defenders
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
To the niggas who smokin' indo chocolate tired of stress
Niggas who got warrants out for their arrest
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
Slap boxin' with all the young hoochies watchin'
Dead cats in the street playing craps
Niggas catchin dice with they feet
Think they got the funk that one fool got stoked out
Cos he's a mark with a gun
The nosy bitch up the street called 9-1-1 now
One time his d jacked a nigga and old bitch
Liscence and registration
"All I got is a drivers permit"
Niggas can't have shit we got dogs that rip but don't even trip
Welcome to Southern California
Liquor stores and churches on every other corner
Your little brother plays pop warner
Darks raided the dope spot
Eight year old kid got shot cos they mistook his BB gun for a glok
And I ain't forgot about the homey Lano
He got killed by a sucker way back in the eighties oh
I heard the homies mighties is ballin' out of state
He got himself off unemployment checks in Section 8
Hey the homiez kickin' it real
Yeh I hear what he's sayin' loc
Sometimes it's just like that in the hood
Yeh don't nothin' change of the game but the name
That's right you know that's right
To the young hustlers that's trying to stack that knot up
The house parties that's gonna always get shot up
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
To the negros real to stop the violence
All the niggers who loced up during the L.A. riots
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
The nigger with all 16 switches sitting ODs
Who got jacked he tried to pull out his gat
Pulling sex in through his back
Now his momma ain't all black
And niggas is going to the barber to get a fade
They carried their dead homey to his grave
Pour out a little liquor
Homegirl down the street with the green eyes and big titties is getting
thicker
Neighborhood clubs beat him up and crackheads be selling tvs and vcrs
For forty bucks so what's up
Yesterday the homey commited a bank caper
Saw the chase on the news and read the story in today's paper
His little girl's just now taking training wheels off her bike
While her daddy's got twenty-five to life at Fort Strike
The little homey just tripped and stripped
Because he didn't realize that the joint was dipped
That's right
OG's joining the nation and it's all good
Big G's is retaliating cause they enemies are crossed out the hood
Crackhead momma's smoking whole accounting checks
Dopedealers who serve liquor pieces for sex
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
Young niggas going to school to be a doctor
Late night sounds of gunshots and helicopters
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
To all the motherfuckers who think their shit don't stank
Rollin D.B.s and then appear for robbing banks
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
This is just a little something for a nigga
That's still gonna be a nigga if he don't get no bigger
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.
Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.
Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.
Every geto got a different name, but they all the same
So Coolio loco gonna put you up on game
We got homies who sell straps
Homies who sell crack
Homies who sell the bomb chronic sacks thats a fact
Cause, you from the neighborhood niggas love
Pimps, players, suckers, hoes, forty thieves, ganstas, and thugs
To unwrap the strap before you know what
The loudmouth one loced up in front of the icecream truck
And broke all of the sills where the big G's live
The little homie be gettin' out on account
This time he might get stuck attempted
One eight seven and he's a minor with pride
So the DA want him tried as an adult
The big homey just had a son no joking
I think his baby's mom is smoking cause she always broke
And the young girls is dressing more and more sleazy
And everybody and their momma talking bout OJ defense
To the hoochies in the Hondas and Sentras
Young niggas fightin' their case with public defenders
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
To the niggas who smokin' indo chocolate tired of stress
Niggas who got warrants out for their arrest
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
Slap boxin' with all the young hoochies watchin'
Dead cats in the street playing craps
Niggas catchin dice with they feet
Think they got the funk that one fool got stoked out
Cos he's a mark with a gun
The nosy bitch up the street called 9-1-1 now
One time his d jacked a nigga and old bitch
Liscence and registration
"All I got is a drivers permit"
Niggas can't have shit we got dogs that rip but don't even trip
Welcome to Southern California
Liquor stores and churches on every other corner
Your little brother plays pop warner
Darks raided the dope spot
Eight year old kid got shot cos they mistook his BB gun for a glok
And I ain't forgot about the homey Lano
He got killed by a sucker way back in the eighties oh
I heard the homies mighties is ballin' out of state
He got himself off unemployment checks in Section 8
Hey the homiez kickin' it real
Yeh I hear what he's sayin' loc
Sometimes it's just like that in the hood
Yeh don't nothin' change of the game but the name
That's right you know that's right
To the young hustlers that's trying to stack that knot up
The house parties that's gonna always get shot up
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
To the negros real to stop the violence
All the niggers who loced up during the L.A. riots
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
The nigger with all 16 switches sitting ODs
Who got jacked he tried to pull out his gat
Pulling sex in through his back
Now his momma ain't all black
And niggas is going to the barber to get a fade
They carried their dead homey to his grave
Pour out a little liquor
Homegirl down the street with the green eyes and big titties is getting
thicker
Neighborhood clubs beat him up and crackheads be selling tvs and vcrs
For forty bucks so what's up
Yesterday the homey commited a bank caper
Saw the chase on the news and read the story in today's paper
His little girl's just now taking training wheels off her bike
While her daddy's got twenty-five to life at Fort Strike
The little homey just tripped and stripped
Because he didn't realize that the joint was dipped
That's right
OG's joining the nation and it's all good
Big G's is retaliating cause they enemies are crossed out the hood
Crackhead momma's smoking whole accounting checks
Dopedealers who serve liquor pieces for sex
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
Young niggas going to school to be a doctor
Late night sounds of gunshots and helicopters
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
To all the motherfuckers who think their shit don't stank
Rollin D.B.s and then appear for robbing banks
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
This is just a little something for a nigga
That's still gonna be a nigga if he don't get no bigger
Be your own good ride
Right right
These are the geto hilites
Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.
Get on up. Get on up. Get on up. Get on up.
Lyrics submitted by aniota
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Blue
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
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Plastic Bag
Ed Sheeran
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“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.