Lyrical Breakdown of The Chase, Part II - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "The Chase, Part II" 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 "The Chase, Part II" 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 "The Chase, Part II" 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!

I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out Them can't touch me, no, them can't touch me Them can't hold me, no, them can't hold me Them can't touch me, no, them can't touch me Them can't hold me, no, them can't hold me Turn the party out Damn, Phife you got fat Yeah, I know it looks pathetic Ali Shaheed Muhammad got me doing calisthenics, uh Needless to say, boy, I'm bad to the bone Making love to my mic like Jarobi on the phone But um, no time for jokes, what There's bills to be paid, what Hoes to be laid, what, punks to be sprayed, what Chumps to attack, so my man watch your back Ninety-three means skills are a must, so never lack, uh Sit back and learn, come now watch the birdie Your styles are incomplete, same as Vinny Testaverde Battlin, whenever, hot damn Give me the microphone, bwoy, one time, bam Keep it on the corner, 'cuz here comes the heat Lyrically it stays, the jazz will pace the beat As we proceed to elevate you, we in fo, fo Run and tell your dad, the Abstract's the bag As we proceed to move your high parts, we know who has ass Poets got the gimmicks but they lack the sassafras To make the average hardrock and cock the glock And roam the city streets on the jury, they hot I be ingredients, like sugar and candy If your life is broke, girl I'll be the handy dandy That commends you, my fee is a shower For you, I'll scrub your back and I'll soap the butt crack Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff Fuckin with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts Yo, my mic is sounding bug, Bob Power, you there? Yeah Adjust the bass and treble make my shit sound clear I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body, get say, turn the party out Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff Fuckin' with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts Ayo, my mic is sounding bug, Bob Power, you there? Adjust the bass and treble, okay, could you come in Tip? Whoop, back yourself man, come watch me drop it For showing me I could do it, for showing me I can rock it Me not deal wit no changaram, bangaram business I got soul on a hymn, like Jehovah's got the witness Musically, the three, poetically, be me We in jammin' on the airwaves, kids just rave Obey the MCs, 'cuz the MCs say We flippin more niggaz like we Super Dave But noticin' my stature, y'all niggaz know we gotcha Movin' to the rapture, listen how we catch ya Movin' with the grace, here we go, let's begin Makin' people jump out their goddamn skin Lyrically, we bite like we Rin Tin Tin Peace to Grand Pu and his many, many skins Don't markers for the arrow, 'cuz we know we get the wins It's the Ab, Shaheed, and the Dawg for the blend I wanna say peace to my man Rob P, my man Jerod, and Skeff Anslem on the help out and we out like shout Nine-tre, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh I don't wanna say nine-tre 'Cuz my man Extra P said, "Don't say the years" So, it's for eternity, know what I'm sayin'? Rock, rock on, Everybody in Queens, rock, rock on Everybody in Brooklyn, rock, rock on Money earnin' Mt. Vernon, rock, rock on Everybody in Jersey, rock, rock on Everybody in Philly rock, rock on Everybody in Houston, rock, rock on Everybody LA, rock, rock on Everybody in The Sand, rock, rock on Everybody in Egypt, rock, rock on Everybody Nigeria, rock, rock on Everybody in London, rock, rock on Everybody in Sweden, rock, rock on Everybody in beware, rock, rock on To the niggaz on the famous, rock, rock on Everybody no name, rock, rock on To the kids at Nu Clear, rock, rock on To the cave rock rock on McDonald's, rock, rock on {This concludes Midnight Marauders program Press any key to return to the main menu}