Lyrical Breakdown of Death To Enemies - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Death To Enemies" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how 50 Cent weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Death To Enemies" 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 50 Cent 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 50 Cent's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Death To Enemies" not only celebrates 50 Cent'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!
Dre, niggas think we're bullshitting
Nigga try me, son, he best have the heat on him
Whip him outta his clothes, get to mopping the street with him
Well, I put your body in a bag, front on me, I'm on ya ass
I bring money to my niggas that bring death to my enemies
I bring money to my niggas that bring death to my enemies
Nigga front on me, the goons and goblins come out
Bushmaster hundred shot, drums'll run out
They dumb out, you heard of me, they call me big homie
Me I make the register ring, I'm the cash cow
They make the hammers ring, they on ya ass now
Hair trigger, stare nigga, yeah, niggas'll flip
Six shot semi assault, let it off at your will
Here I is, where the money is, I still get biz
If D's know about the beef, you gon' still get did
It be your tombstone and your fucking grave they dig
Have that ass in the precinct trying to talk to the pigs
I'm like Damien, nigga, when I start getting loose on ya
Closest thing to Lucifer, you think you got a noose on ya
I make it hard to breathe
I come with your hustle, air it out, make it hard to eat
Have you lookin' both ways like you crossing the street
Nigga try me, son, he best have the heat on him
Whip him outta his clothes, get to mopping the street with him
Well, I put your body in a bag, front on me, I'm on ya ass
I bring money to my niggas that bring death to my enemies
I bring money to my niggas that bring death to my enemies
Yeah, niggas send me the wrong message, we gon' fucking kill the messenger
Your whole clique, hollowtips'll tear up the best of ya
This ain't the "Carter" nigga, this is Sparta
It's harder, I die and be a martyr, respect me like your father
Let off a clip or let a case off
I have your pussy ass running like a race horse
Follow orders now, Yay' shoot his face off
You can have one, blast one, it's mad fun
See how when you listen to me all of the cash gone
I was born with the tech, it's a birth defect
I was conceived in the bins, ended up in a Benz
This is what happens when have-not's turn into Sasquatch
Let the gat pop, boogie down on the back blocks
It's horrific, nah, it's terrific
I got it if you sniff it, go 'head nigga twist it
Get lifted, goddamn I'm gifted
Nigga try me, son, he best have the heat on him
Whip him outta his clothes, get to mopping the street with him
Well, I put your body in a bag, front on me, I'm on ya ass
I bring money to my niggas that bring death to my enemies
I bring money to my niggas that bring death to my enemies
Yeah, I tell 'em ride on 'em then they ride on 'em
Get the line on 'em and squeeze the .9 on 'em
Headshot, .40-Glock blow his mind on him
It's a hit, not a jux leave the shines on 'em
Now you can watch me, nigga, like the police watch me
I move proper, go ahead catch a shell trying to stop me
That 430 Spider, carbon fibre
And my dog is like Al Qaeda, natural fighter
Rapid fire, you're sweet like apple cider
The Mack'll fire, mask like Michael Myers
It's off the wire when I get on my bullshit
No smiles, no laughs, you gets no pass
You can explain to my niggas while they whoop yo' ass
My hands itch when the money comes, it's hard to explain it
Last time I itched like this, a truckload came in
Get money, get bread, that's what I do kid
Nigga try me, son, he best have the heat on him
Whip him outta his clothes, get to mopping the street with him
Well, I put your body in a bag, front on me, I'm on ya ass
I bring money to my niggas that bring death to my enemies
I bring money to my niggas that bring death to my enemies