Lyrical Breakdown of Everybody's Something - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

  • Lyric Overview: Witness how Chance the Rapper feat. Saba & BJ The Chicago Kid weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Everybody's Something" 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 Chance the Rapper feat. Saba & BJ The Chicago Kid 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 Chance the Rapper feat. Saba & BJ The Chicago Kid's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Everybody's Something" not only celebrates Chance the Rapper feat. Saba & BJ The Chicago Kid'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!

Ladies loving my music is like some sex shit

Niggas trying to grip up my mic like it's a dick (On the mic like it's a dick)

Run around the corner to pick up the new shit (The shit)

Toss this in the deck so niggas can catch rep

Ladies loving my music is like some sex shit

Niggas trying to grip up my mic like it's a dick (Ne,ne,ne,ne)

Run around the corner to pick up the new shit (The shit)

Toss this in the deck so niggas can catch rep

What's good, good? And what's good, evil?

And what's good, gangstas? And what's good, people?

And why's God phone die every time that I call on Him?

If his son had a Twitter if one day I would follow Him

Swallow them synonyms like cinnamon Cinnabon

Keep all them sentiments down to a minimum

Studious Gluteus Maxim models is sending him

Pics of they genitalia tallied up ten of 'em

I slurped too many pain-kills, down I'm off a lot

I got a lot off days but it ain't often that I'm off the clock

Ya Kna Wha Mean, I got the Chicago Blues

We invented rock before the Stones got through

We just aiming back cause the cops shot you

Buck buck bang bang, yelling "Fuck Fox News!"

Booyaka buckle up, mothafuck opps too

Ain't no knuckling up 'em young cause it just not cool

Nice to see you Father New Year

Middle finger Uncle Samuel

Shooting death with weighted dice

And hitting stains on birthday candles

I know somebody, somebody loves my ass

Cause they help me beat my demons ass

Everybody's somebody's everything

I know you right

Nobody's nothing

That's right

Everybody's somebody's everything

I know you right

Nobody's nothing

That's right

Everybody's somebody's everything

That's right

Nobody's nothing (Nobody's nothing)

Right?

Know you're right

I used to tell hoes I was dark light or off white

But I'd fight if a nigga said that I talk white

And both my parents was black

But they saw it fit that I talk right

With my drawers hid but

My hard head stayed in the clouds like a lost kite

But gravity had me up in a submission hold

Like I'm dancing with the Devil with two left feet and I'm pigeon toed

In two small point ballet shoes with a missing sole

And two missing toes

But it's love like Cupid kissing a mistletoe

Nice to see you Father New Year

Middle finger Uncle Samuel

Shooting death with weighted dice

And hitting stains on birthday candles

I know somebody, somebody loves my ass

Cause they help me beat my demons ass

Like Cassius ducking the draft and now the fight is over

The type to love from a distance not the type that told her

Spent three days on the rap, trash it and type it over

With babies on the block under arms like fighting odors

Coppers and quotas

Hold ya head like 2Pac had taught

Obviously they are on a come up

With better chances tobogganing in the fucking summer

Concoctions for the bad days and a condom for the good ones

All odds against we tryna get lucky

Doper than Lucky

You're ending happy that's only a tugging

Like Satan masturbating shit come hot

But y'all still love me ugh

How father time a deadbeat

Maybe I'm adopted

That'll explain why all of my shit been so timeless, uuugh

Everybody's somebody's everything

Nigga

Nobody's nothing

Nigga

Everybody's somebody's everything

Nigga

Nobody's nothing, at all

WuTang

Everybody's somebody's everything

That's right

Nobody's nothing (Nobody's nothing)

I know you're right?