Lyrical Breakdown of Chase, Pt. 2 - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Chase, Pt. 2" 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 "Chase, Pt. 2" 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 "Chase, Pt. 2" 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 and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and 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
Damn, Phife, you got fat, yeah, I know it looks pathetic
Ali Shaheed Muhammad got me doing calisthenics
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
'93 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 c'uz 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 and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out
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 MC's 'cuz the MC's 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 mark with the arrow 'cuz we know we get the wins
It's the Ab Shaheed and the dawg for the blend
And 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
'Cause 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 L.A., 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
The cave rock, rock on
Mcdonald's, rock rock on
This concludes midnight program
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