Lyrical Breakdown of Oh My God (feat. Busta Rhymes) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Oh My God (feat. Busta Rhymes)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

Lyric Overview: Witness how A Tribe Called Quest weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Oh My God (feat. Busta Rhymes)" 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 Tribe Called Quest 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 Tribe Called Quest's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Oh My God (feat. Busta Rhymes)" not only celebrates A Tribe Called Quest'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!

Listen up everybody, the bottom line

I'm a black intellect, but unrefined

With precision like a bullet, target bound

Just living like a hooker, the harlot sounds

Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot

Heat of the equator, the broth that's in the pot

Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip

Drafting of the poets, I'm the #7 pick

Licks licks licks boy 'pon your backside

Listen to the fader, Shaheed lets it glide

Tip the earthly body, heaven's on my side

Even in Santo Domingo when I got a Gringo

We got mics, when do we go?

Know a little nigga who can rhyme when you ask me

Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy

1 for the treble, 2 for the bass

You know the style Tip, it's time to flip this

I like my beats hard like two day old shit

Steady eating booty MCs like cheese grits

My man Al B. Sure, he's in effect mode

Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue

It's not like honey dip would wanna get with me

But just in case I own more condoms than T.L.C

Now the formula is this: me, Tip, and Ali

For those who can't count it goes 1-2-3

The anti batty boy, big up is who I be

Brothers find this hard to do but never me

Some brothers try to diss but Malik, you see 'em bitching

Me no care about them dibby MC, my shit is hitting

Trini gladiator, anti-hesitater

Shaheed push the fader from here to Grenada

Mr Energetic, who me sound pathetic?

When's the last time you heard a funky diabetic?

(I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know man)

(I don't know, I don't know)

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Complementary are we, the three for poetry

I got a humdinger coming hook line and sinker

The Timbo hoofs with the prints on the ground

Timbos on the toes, I like the way it's going down

Down like a lady of the evening

When it goes in Toots just believe it's in

Cause Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place

Take off your cleats cause you can't run the race

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

The title MC means Master of Ceremony

Some people who MC don't know what this term means