Lyrical Breakdown of Hard Target - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Hard Target" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Action Bronson weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Hard Target" 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 Action Bronson 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 Action Bronson's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Hard Target" not only celebrates Action Bronson'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!

Yeah, yeah (yeah, yeah) Huh-huh, huh Uh (to end the album, outro) Ayo, the weed don't even hit me like it used to (nah) When I was youthful (damn, why?) Man, I don't even know how to pray, dog (fuck) This big, long shit get sprayed off, uh Ruined my life bettin' my money on them gray dogs (fuck it) If I die today I'm still gon' live forever (forever) I might just pop up when it's long leather jacket weather (undertaker) When the caddy drive a little slower (woo) When that haze hit my lung (swoo) And my eyes get a little lower (swoo) They had the camcorders goin' at the cookout (uh) If police approach (uh-uh) You can hear the whistles from the lookouts (yeah) Shit man, I just put two fuckin' books out (two of 'em, two of 'em) Bestsellin' author, motherfucker, I'm good now (I'm good now), shit Meyhem in your mom kitchen like Ving Rhames Rockin' big chains, lookin' like Rick James (James) This ain't no kids' game (this ain't no kids game, uh) Hear me? Uh (hear me?), Yeah I broke his jaw on West fourth (yeah) Everybody screamed, "Worldstar" (Worldstar) Jumped through the window of my girl's car, then swerved off (skrr) 'Bout to cop this fourth floor loft, just off my thoughts (uh) I'm butt-naked playin' ball, bitch, hold that (swish, swish) No watch, no chain Just a down to earth gorgeous motherfucker with some fame (uh, uh) Star traveler, a midnight babbler (uh) I narrowly escaped to Babylon (Babylon) In a baby blue Porsche wagon Panama, shit Panama (Babylon, Babylon, Babylon) I ordered fire roasted turbo from Britney (uh) With the mint leaves, plated simply for my family (true) Brought all my people with me (all of them) Display my art up in the Whitney (please) This chick with me look like Whitney (just like her) And, yeah, she only sniff with fifties (uh) Shit gettin' risky (risky, risky, risky) Meyhem in your Mom kitchen like Ving Rhames Rockin' big chains, lookin' like Rick James This ain't no kids' game (no), this ain't no kids game This ain't no kids' game (ah), hear me? This ain't no kids' game (ah) This ain't no kids' game (ah), this ain't no kids' game (ah), uh (yeah) Thousand horses in the Shelby (vroom, vroom) Havin' lunch in the Catacombs Doggy, doggy, smell me? (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) Basic bitch, she got the bag with all them LV's I like my bags filled up with money straight from Tel Aviv (bling) Or diamonds (bling) And there's nothin' on consignment (bling, bling, bling) I said it's all about the product and not the salesman (swing, swing) New York to Paris, three hours because of tailwind I'm so wave it's like I sailed in (sailed) I tell that tale about the great white whale That's on the trail for his paper (ayayayayay) Buy a brand new outfit for a motherfuckin' hater I'm high as a fuck at the seder I play ball, pop, I never was a skater (skater) I'm more like big Van Vader (uh) doin' a layup (ah), feel me? Uh (let's get out of here) Meyhem in your mom kitchen like Ving Rhames Rockin' big chains This ain't no kids game, this ain't no kids game This ain't no kids game, this ain't no kids game (wrap this up) Only for dolphins