Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Position Of Power" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Position Of Power" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
- Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that undefined employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
- Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Position Of Power" not only celebrates undefined's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!
Hahaha
I told niggas not to shoot dice with me
Look at this stack
I got money
I got money
Hahaha
Aww nigga don't trip
I'll kill ya if you fuck with my grip
I won't hesitate to let off a clip
Aww nigga don't trip
You gon' make me get on some shit
Run up on you quick
Wet up your whip
Aww nigga don't trip
You gon' get ya monkey ass hit
Runnin ya lip tryna fuck with my clique
Aww nigga don't trip
Case you didn't know who this is
Its 50 Cent bitch, G-Unit
Aww nigga don't trip
I come through your hood, stuntin' in my yellow Lam'
Murcielago, top down, nigga damn
I'm the biggest crook from New York since son of Sam
Cruisin', bumpin' Buck's shit, Ruger in my hand
Thinkin' the east ain't enough, its time to expand
I plan to head out west and plant my feet down
A nigga big as King Kong in the street now
I do a lil' house shoppin', and buy me a crib
It's palm trees and pretty bitches out in Cali kid
I touched the Hollywood paper, go and shoot me some flicks
Have some supermodel bitches come and suck on some dick
Mama'd turn in her grave if I married a white chick
But Becky'll suck the chrome off a Chevy and shit
Niggas be wearin' fake shines, I'm rockin' a lil' charm
30 carats on the pinky, kiss the ring on the Don
Crack open that Cali bud, stuff the weed in the palm
Nigga you hustle, but me I'll hustle harder
I got what you need, them trees, that hard, that powder
My niggas move G-packs, every hour on the hour
They shoot when I say shoot, so I'm in a position of power
You fuck around if you wanna
Where I'm from, you learn to blend in, or get touched
I don't need niggas for support, I don't walk with a crutch
Niggas know my steez, they don't fuck with me son
You got a appetite for hollow-tips, I'll feed you my gun
This is that Ferrari F-50 shit, its real laid back
Type shit you recline to in the Maybachs
I got two shooters now, on the run from the fuzz
You get the same shit for ten bodies, you get for one cuz
I live life in the fast lane, 100 miles an hour
Chrome and some wood grain
You know a nigga still really tryna move 'caine
Make a lil' extra money on the side mayne
I ain't playin', I'm up early with the birds word
Puttin' that work in
Pirrelli's on the Porsche chirpin', I'm making moves
I got a hundred mil from music, a hundred grand from crack
Goin' to see my jeweler, so I can blow a stack
Nigga you hustle, but me I'll hustle harder
I got what you need; them trees, that hard, that powder
My niggas move G-packs, every hour on the hour
They shoot when I say shoot, so I'm in a position of power
You fuck around if you wanna