Lyrical Breakdown of Anti-Social (Numbers) (feat. Roddy Ricch, Gunna & London On Da Track) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Anti-Social (Numbers) (feat. Roddy Ricch, Gunna & London On Da Track)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how A Boogie wit da Hoodie weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Anti-Social (Numbers) (feat. Roddy Ricch, Gunna & London On Da Track)" 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 A Boogie wit da Hoodie 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 A Boogie wit da Hoodie's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Anti-Social (Numbers) (feat. Roddy Ricch, Gunna & London On Da Track)" not only celebrates A Boogie wit da Hoodie'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!
We got London on da Track
You mad nigga, your adrenaline rushin'
It feel like a bus but I'm whippin' the Wraith
Got my head to the ceiling, want me in my feelings
Only got me feelin' a way
I ain't sayin' I'm addicted, adderall prescripted
Fuck it 'cause I don't feel the pain
That lil' nigga touch my chain, fuck it nigga, kill him
Fuck it, they can't take me away
I got my dawgs in this bitch
I know they gon' shoot shit up
And my lil' brother turned to a drummer
Walked him outside, now he got the llama
I took the Maybach where the J's at
Tell my brothers ball a hundred summers
All my niggas know, run up them numbers
Fuck it, run up them numbers (Yeah)
Run up them numbers
Okay, see you don't want no thunder
The old Tracy McGrady the one
OKC, you don't want no thunder, yeah
Christian the sweater
Okay, Christian Dior the sweater
The double R came with the umbrella
When I put the hoodie on it get realer, yeah
Put a hundred thousand in my Prada jeans
Got some little homies, got some prodigies
And I spend 500 hunnid on Prada tee
Made it out the projects, poppin' overseas
Shawty gave me sloppy toppy on the seat
I made some calls, you can't cop the fleet
Gotta be a antisocial gangster 'cause the feds watchin' my tweets
You mad nigga, your adrenaline rushin'
It feel like a bus but I'm whippin' the Wraith
Got my head to the ceiling, want me in my feelings
Only got me feelin' a way
I ain't sayin' I'm addicted, adderall prescripted
Fuck it 'cause I don't feel the pain
That lil' nigga touch my chain, fuck it nigga, kill him
Fuck it, they can't take me away
I got my dawgs in this bitch
I know they gon' shoot shit up
And my lil' brother turned to a drummer
Walked him outside, now he got the llama
I took the Maybach where the J's at
Tell my brothers ball a hundred summers
All my niggas know, run up them numbers
Fuck it, run up them numbers, yeah
Fuck it, I ran up the numbers
Piped her like a plumber
And sold all the bundles (Sold all the bundles)
I paid all the debts to your honor
Then went and got some commas, some commas, some commas (Racks)
You let it get to your head, yeah
I remember when you was a runner (You was a runner)
I heard you got snatched by the feds, yeah
Said you willin' to tell 'em whatever (Yeah)
I still be killin' in projects
Even though I been runnin' them numbers up
They used to tell I'm not next
I'm like look at me now, I've been runnin' up
And I just hope you never set me up, my lifestyle too irregular
And I don't know how I'ma trust again, I swear
Audemars might fuck up your eyes, yeah
I bust down a piece of the pie, yeah
I wanna speed off in the car, yeah (Speed off in the car, yeah)
I got a cup full of Hi-Tech
Have a pool party with the posse (Pool party with the posse)
We be the talk of the topic
These fuck niggas don't where the drop at
They won't want us ridin' in the drophead
And he mad at my bitch got a Masi'
You mad nigga, your adrenaline rushin'
It feel like a bus but I'm whippin' the Wraith
Got my head to the ceiling, want me in my feelings
Only got me feelin' a way
I ain't sayin' I'm addicted, adderall prescripted
Fuck it 'cause I don't feel the pain
That lil' nigga touch my chain, fuck it nigga, kill him
Fuck it, they can't take me away
I got my dawgs in this bitch
I know they gon' shoot shit up
And my lil' brother turned to a drummer
Walked him outside, now he got the llama
I took the Maybach where the J's at
Tell my brothers ball a hundred summers
All my niggas know, run up them numbers
Fuck it, run up them numbers