Lyrical Breakdown of Flowers (feat. Curren$Y, Wiz Khalifa) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Flowers (feat. Curren$Y, Wiz Khalifa)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Big Sean weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Flowers (feat. Curren$Y, Wiz Khalifa)" 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 Big Sean 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 Big Sean's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Flowers (feat. Curren$Y, Wiz Khalifa)" not only celebrates Big Sean'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!

We in the party burning up the weed smoke, weed smoke Smell us everywhere that we go (we go) When niggas try to tell us, we like hold up (hol up) And them bitches aint coming if they can't party Burning up the weed smoke (weed smoke) Smell us everywhere that we go (we go) When niggas try to tell us, we like hold up (hol up) And them bitches aint coming if they can't Keepin' it G and sticking to the plan Of gettin' rich and burying all my money in the dessert sand Got no stroke of luck I played my hand (played my hand) Man I've been up for hours fingers tired from rollin' every gram ANd now my cheese aint just American Cause I get overseas money Every where I go somebody scream for me Looking out the window, my hotel room in Vegas thinking How the f-ck could you hate this Half of these people aint real, niggas shape shift That's why I'm smoking OG til I'm weightless Yeah and my homies are Taylor Gang We rolling up papers and yeah of course they gon hate but f-ck what they say Cause we gon stay the same Higher than hell flyer than Delta Niggas try and fail, I think it's time you fired everyone hired to help ya Gettin' all this bread, wanna know why Could tell ya, other than that Yeah, OG, got third seasons of baby? BC make cake from CD's, mixtape shit for free Either way I go 100%, all gang 48 minutes no bench sitting at all man Y'all may have thought stoners would fall off schedule But we ahead of you Due these medical power laws preserve jaws open Urb and? I'm quotin'? All hit pages I wrote it for your speakers to smoke it Now pan on them lenses and focus on the dopest In the? see how far back I've been quoted And they hoe suckas know that from Spitta they styles stolen I aint mad though, I'm glad though Thought I'd feel a little bit different being a dad yo Yeah bro Wiz smoked out the BET awards I wrapped up my Jet Life tour That's why them bitches roll that weed for us They wanna roll like me Cause I'm living life like it's no police Or I'm overseas I'm watching no smoking signs just rollin' weed Cause it's the muthaf-ckin life when you roll with G's Boi Dissin' these bitches, you entertained You tell her you love her too, I tell her she's out her brain I'm on the road to the millies, I started on Penny lane I got a band wagon it's packed, you might wan' hop on a train At the top so now her top all off Never pay hoes, I only pay cops off And tell these niggas they gotta take that disguise off I'm from Detroit we eat ya little hoes alive with hot sauce F-cking bitch I might come a little tardy though Fatty rolled, Chris Farley smoke You niggas rollin up barney bro I'm all green as the safari's go You bitches already know