Welcome to the detailed analysis of "What Up Gangsta" 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 "What Up Gangsta" 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 "What Up Gangsta" 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!
G-Unit (What)
We in here (What)
We can get the drama popping
We don't care (What, what, what)
It's going down (What)
'Cause I'm around (What)
50 Cent, you know how I gets down (Down)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?
They say I walk around like got an "S" on my chest
Naw, that's a semi-auto, and a vest on my chest
I try not to say nothing, the DA might want to play in court
But I'll hunt or duck a nigga down like it's sport
Front on me, I'll cut ya, gun-butt ya or bump ya
You getting money? I can't none with ya then fuck ya
I'm not the type to get knocked for D.W.I.
I'm the type that'll kill your connect when the coke price rise
Gangstas, they bump my shit then they know me
I grew up around some niggas that's not my homies
Hundred G's I stash it (what), the mack I blast it (yeah)
D's come we dump the diesel and battery acid
This flow's been mastered, the ice I flash it
Chokes me, I'll have your mama picking out your casket, bastard
I'm on the next level, bright ring bigot bezzle
Benz pedal to the metal, hotter than a tea kettle, blood (what)
What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around
I sit back, twist the best bud, burn and wonder
When gangstas bump my shit, can they hear my hunger?
When the 5th kick, duck quick, it sounds like thunder
In December I'll make your block feel like summer
The rap critics say I can rhyme, the fiends say my dope is a nine
Every chick I fuck with is a dime
I'm like Patty LaBelle, homie, I'm on my own
Where I lay my hat is my home, I'm a rolling stone
Cross my path I'll crush ya, thinking I won't touch ya
I'll have your ass using a wheelchair, cane, or crutches
Industry hoe fuckers, in the hood they love us
Stomp a bone out your ass with some brand new chuckas
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around