Lyrical Breakdown of Wolfpack - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Wolfpack" 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 "Wolfpack" 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 "Wolfpack" 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!
Just tell me how high you are
I don't know, what are you giving me?
Just tell– just tell everyone how high you are
No, I can't talk, I'm not telling anyone
I'm not telling anyone
Can you please–
Are you recording me?
No I'm not, can you just–
You are lying
Can you please tell them?
I–I can't describe it, I am so high
That's it, it's like I'm tripping
Yeah, Yeah
Yeah, Yeah (Wolfpack)
Puerto Rican Air Force One's at the wedding (Uh)
I'm only speaking truth
Uh, I might open up for Bruce (I might)
My own horn I don't really mean to toot
Sign big deals with yarmulkes on and suede gloves
It's safe to say your boy done came up
Too much lobster on the plane, the plane won't stay up (Uh)
Bitch, I'm butt naked, laid up
Yo, what the fuck?
(Wolfpack)
This dick'll make an R&B chick write a song
About the rain when it falls and the pain that it causes (Uh, uh)
And how she always wakin' up alone?
And now Bronson gotta call Tyrone (Gotta call Tyrone)
Fuck that, I'm tryna blow smoke towards the moon
Till my mind start racing like zoom
I'm hotter than when Bow Wow dropped in the summer
Girls scream and I hop into the Hummer like
Uh, I'm a teenage heartthrob
You smoke little blunts like Kevin Hart's arms (Uh)
My bloodline predate Aardvark and large shark (Uh)
And cookin' flesh off of charred bark (Aaah!)
(Wolfpack, wolfpack)
I shot dope before I wrote this
Sniffed coke and did aerobics by the ocean
This is Blue Chips 7 not Usher (Uh)
Big muskets get squeezed like mustard
And motherfuckers flee off in the Nissan (Uhh)
They say that life is like a see-saw
I roll solo, why I got these extra seats for?
Hit eject, watch him free fall (Aaaaaah!)
Better use both fucking feet, dog!
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Bam Bam, Blue Chips 7
My Blue Heaven