Lyrical Breakdown of Trunks - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Trunks" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how A$AP Rocky weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Trunks" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
- Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that A$AP Rocky 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$AP Rocky's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Trunks" not only celebrates A$AP Rocky'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!
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back, uh
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back, uh
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back, uh
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back (back)
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back, uh
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back (back)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (uh), yeah (uh), yeah, yeah, uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (uh), yeah (uh), yeah, yeah, uh (what's up?)
Yeah, yeah, yeah (get him), yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh (get him back)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh
At 35 and I'm still a purty guy
Pussy never dry, you know shawty certified
Pancake-ass niggas stay turnin' sides (uh-huh)
Cookie cutter niggas soda pop, yeah, they Canada Dry, uh (uh-huh)
Fuck a fight, nighty-night if we shoot the five
And we bop, hit 'em low, nigga, shoot him high
Suit and tie, they crossed the boy so many times, feel crucified (yeah)
Bumpin' Koopsta Knicca in my coupe, my doors still suicide (yeah)
Shoutouts to my felons, boy, we caught another felony (uh)
Shoutout-shoutouts to my felons, boy, we caught another felony (ooh, ooh)
Shoutouts to my felons, boy, we caught another felony (ooh, uh)
Young felon nigga uptown, fuck who tellin' me (ooh, ooh)
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back (ooh, ooh)
All gold fronts from the front to the back (ooh, ooh)
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back (ooh, ooh)
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back (ooh, uh-huh)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (uh), yeah (uh), yeah, yeah, uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (uh), yeah (uh), yeah, yeah, uh (what's up?)
Yeah, yeah, yeah (get him), yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh (get him back)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh
BBL, think they built
They strainin' when they trainin' in the gym
They think they Wilt Chamberlain
Can't name a bitch who pussy I ain't killed (for real)
You lame as shit, we ain't forget
The muscles, they ain't real, yeah, yeah, uh
Shoutouts to my felons, boy, we caught another felony
Shoutout-shoutouts to my felons, boy, we caught another felony
Shoutout-shoutouts to my felons, boy, we caught another felony (shoutout the felons, uh)
Young felon nigga uptown, fuck who tellin' me
Of course, I ride around the bros
Of course, I'm sellin' out my shows
Of course, I slime and wipe my nose
Of course, your honor, I can't go to court
My baby mom want child support
Fuck college, can't enroll no course
She celebrate and pop the cork, of course
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back (uh, uh)
Nigga got a grudge, motherfucker, where ya at? (Uh, uh, give it to 'em)
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back (where they at? Put it up)
Nigga try to front, we gon' leave 'em where he at (brrt, back)
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back
(I got niggas in they cell, goin' crazy in the jail, well)
Pack out the trunk from the front to the back
(Tell the judge, "Don't be holdin' grudge, suck-suck my nuts")
(I'd rather be a thug) I'd rather be a thug
(I'd rather be a thug) I'd rather be a thug
(Send bullets than a hug) I don't give no fuck
(Yeah, hate and no love) pack out the trunk from the front to the back
(Niggas in they cell, goin' crazy in the jail, well)
(Shoutouts to the real ones, the ones who never tellin')
(Shoutouts to my fellas, shoutouts to my fellas)
(Shoutouts to the real ones, the ones who never tellin')
(Shoutouts to my fellas, shoutouts to my fellas)
(Shoutouts to the real ones, the ones who never tellin')
Shoutouts to my fellas, shoutouts to my fellas
Shoutouts to the fellas, the ones who never tellin'