Lyrics Original Translation Bilingual
Yes, this is Miss Renee King from Philadelphia. I want you to give me a call on area code 215-222-4209 And I'm calling in reference to the music business. Thank you." Hey how ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through Why don't you leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Hey how are ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through But leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Once again it's another rap bandit Fiending at I and I can't stand it Wanna be down with the Day-Glo Knocking on my door, saying, "a yo yo" Knocking on my door, saying, "a yo yo" "I got a funky new tune with a fly banjo" I can't understand what the problem is I find it hard enough dealing with my own biz How'd they get my name and number Then I stop to think and wonder Bout a plan, yo man I gotta step out town You wanna call me up? Take my number down It's 222-2222 I gotta answering machine that can talk to you It goes Hey how ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through Why don't you leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Hey how are ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through But leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Yo, check it, exit the old style, enter's the new But nothing's new 'bout being hawked by a crew Or should I say flock cause around every block There's Harry, Dick, and Tom, with a demo in his palm Now I'm with helping those who want to help themselves And flaunt a nut that's doggy as in dope But it's not the mood to hear The tales of limousines and pails Of money they'll make like a pro I be like, "Yo black, just play me the tape" But at the show the time to spare I just make But the songs created in they shacks Are so wick-wick-wack, situations like this And now I hate they give me smiles Kool-Aid wide and ask "Was it def?" And with the straighest face I be like, "hell yes." I slip them the digits to Papa Prince Paul So I don't go AWOL but yet I know when they call they get Hey how ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through Why don't you leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Hey how are ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through But leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Party at the dug-out on Diction Ave Haven't been to the jam in quite a while Figure I'll catch up on the latest styles 'Stead piles and piles of demo tapes by the miles All I wanna do is cut on the decks wild But edition up here by the miles to the center Reliever of duty, Plug One mosies in And I be like, "Yo G, Pos does all the producing" Now woe is me to the third degree Mase pulls the funny so I make like a bunny, jettin' But I'm getting used to this demo abuse Getting raped and giving birth to a tape Cause there's no escape from the clutches of a hawker Attached to my success, sent like a stalker Make way to my radius playin' fly guy Try to get on my back they force like Luke Sky Me, Myself, and I go through this act daily And rarely do I not No matter how I dodge some jackal always nails me No matter what the plot And even out on tour they be like Yo, I got a tape to play you back at the hotel I be like, "oh swell" Unveil the numeric code to dial my room And tell them to call me at noon But of course there's no answering machine in my room But a pretty young adorer who I swung on tour And if it rings while we're alone she'll answer the phone And with the quickness she'll recite like a poem Hey, you done did the right thing, dial up my ring ring Now you're waiting on the beep Say, I would love if you'd sing The tune to Tru instead of fronting on the speak." So no problemo, just play the demo And at the end it's break out time Please oh please don't press rewind 'Cause I'll just lay it down the line Hey how ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through Why don't you leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Hey how are ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through But leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Hey how ya doing Sorry ya can't get through Why don't you leave your name and your number And we'll get back to you. peace Yo what's up man, this is Ronald Master down with the Fish Tank Posse, man, you know man, SSo you know you can just hook Me up, True You know we got this fly new jam called 'Swimming In the Fish Tank', you know we gonna rock it man, you know What I'm saying, but I just need your help, Prince Paul gave me your Number You know man, you just gotta do that for me Got this fly bassline, got these fly trombones in it man, So just hook me up, man, just look out, all right, call me back At 557-2223 all right man, just look out, all right, Look out for a brother man!' ย
Lyrics meaning The song humorously describes a musician who is constantly approached by aspiring rappers eager to play their demo tapes and ask for help. At first, he sounds irritated and tries to avoid them by giving out an answering-machine number. As the song continues, the interruptions follow him to parties and even on tour, so his annoyance grows into comic resignation: he knows the requests will keep coming.
The repeated phone message, asking callers to leave their name and number, becomes a polite barrier between the musician and people seeking his attention. The image of demo tapes piling up โby the milesโ exaggerates how many there are, making the pressure feel endless. Calling the experience โdemo abuseโ and describing himself as giving birth to a tape are playful, exaggerated ways to show how draining it feels to be made to listen to so many recordings.
The lyrics poke fun at both sides: the hopeful artists may be persistent and overconfident, while the established musician avoids giving them a direct answer. His false praiseโsaying a track is good when he does not seem to mean itโsuggests he wants to escape an awkward encounter without openly hurting anyone. The endingโs new caller asking for help implies the cycle is still going. The song is comic, but it also hints at the tension between ambition, courtesy, and protecting oneโs time.