Lyrical Breakdown of Brief Description - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Brief Description" not only celebrates Atmosphere'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!

(Sample: "Have you heard it? Sing along with it. If you didn't hear it, you're gonna hear it right now.") (Slug) Bam, the door way opened for me I saw ways and told the story Raw day dreams of holding glory Junior high, hall way kings Locker taggin' MCs Beat boxin', breakin' Zulu Nation wanna-bes It didn't take long to see who'd stay strong High school came upon Some B-Boys put their gang bangs on But some kept on doing Step on to ruin Others that were pursuing the same shit we thought we ruled in But what a surprise The passion for being the best Puts the quest for allies to rest Dead In the Midwest where heads Is just a handful In a land of gangstas Players, replacements, pricks, banjos We scramble To break MCs that may appreciate it Guided by the envy, insecurity, and the hatred Separated by the 'gimmie props' technique And a desire to be the tops this week I gotta floss the speak Cause talk is cheap Even the broke kids can afford it That's why I stand close, and if you're dope then I'm supportive But if not We'll keep the mic warm for the next one Respect the artform And make your wishes on the stars born Within the movement Fact checkin', tryin' to completely avoid all channels of back-stepping From the lines of painted the concrete That reside on Lakestreet To the way we close our eyes to sleep And drift through Deep Space 9 type shit To find this I've been around for as long as sound I've been to that not so fresh phase And to the not quite that serious state but I've evolved Metamorphed a manifest state Ised to be young, dumb and full of vision Like it was religious rituals I made initial decisions I wanted to be a rapper world renowned From Minneap to the Bronx Capture girls and crowns Snap, crackle and stomp That's what I found The abyss that sits in-between the one that holds the mic and those that Don't even listen Formed some crews Rocked talent shows at schools Saturdays on the 18 make my way down to the record pool I met a grip of people that was bullshit (bullshit) Was down with a lot of people that was bullshit But I pull shit from the asshole of an angel before I let him hassle and Strangle The love triangle between me, the mic and the turntable Went to studios We want to make demos We want to do shows and rock our own instrumentals Do our own production Fuckin' around with this kid Kazir Nitwit engineer Barely knew his own equipment, Atmosphere The prefix was Urban Wrecked shows Made friends, made foes Overall we made flows And right now as I sit here, write now, writing this I'm buggin' off of the people in my life that made me like this Within the movement Fact checkin' Tryin' to completely avoid all channels of back-steppin' From the lines of painted concrete That reside on Franklin Ave To the dead bird on the elevator To that short in your cross fader I never got lost later For efforts to pester Just throw your hands up in the air like a leper I've been to that not so fresh phase And to the not quite that serious state Metamorph a manifest state Well sometimes it rings and I don't answer it That's it no asterisks No thirst to find the circumstances It was planted in me deep It was nurtured and it grew Gave it sleep and nutrition It was efficient let it through There are a few that have developed to where I let them in my spectrum For the rest of em I give them just enough to cause infection Not trippin' on attention But if you up it, it's welcome Open arms, potent charms I know the words and I can spell them Seldom is it When one inquisits Do they leave with this interest In fact most begin crave the visits Bringin' me to the table That's it, no more, no less The love, the life, the stress Slug, the mic, the mess Tested Yes, I've been tested and I've tested some I'm not sayin' I'm the best Believe I'm not Like the rest of em Just sayin' I'm better than you That's my mind state My rhymes take me into When I check one two I guess some do get pissed But intentions were to inspire Build the empire before I get tired The ones that tear me down don't know it But they're the same ones that built me Now quiet, lean your head and say, "Yes, you can feel me." (Sample: "Asking himself, even before the curtain goes up, what am I? I am now eighty years old, and more, and I am determined to find precisely what I am, what I amount to. They tell me I am everything, they flatter me everyday of my life. I am now going to subject myself to a rigorous test in order to find out really what I am. I don't care about kingdom, I don't care about rule anymore. It is of no importance to me, as such, but I must find out what I am before I die.")