Lyrical Breakdown of Citgo - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Citgo" not only celebrates Chief Keef'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!

Beep, beep G. B. E. the squad (G. B. E. baby), it's just us, we don't need nobody Yeah, yeah, yeah, Sosa, baby Said Tadoe off the molly (Tadoe), he spazzin' out in the party, man (yeah) Yeah, yeah All these bitches know I get dough (beep-beep) Pop a nigga soul like Crisco (bang-bang) I'm smokin' on the gas like Citgo (dope, huh?) Fat ass on my bitch though (yeah, yeah) Big rims, on my whips, though (skrr-skrr) 30 clips, all my clips go (yeah, yeah) You talk a lot but you ain't on shit though (yeah, yeah) We let off shots, you 'bout to get hit though (bang-bang) I'm Southside, I'll pop out (yeah) O'Block bring them Glocks out (O'Block) 300 bring them chops out (yeah) We shoot up your block now (bang-bang) Fredo bring them Glocks out (Fredo) Reese bring them crates out (Reese) I'ma bring them racks out (Sosa, baby) Make your bitch wanna stay out (yeah) But don't think she gon' get paid now (nah) I just like to play round (yeah) With niggas, I don't play round (nah) My boys shoot up the playground (bang-bang) So please don't get sprayed now (yeah) Sirens on the way now (yeah) We can do this all day now (bang-bang) Shoot you, what you say now (huh?) I know she wanna come up (yeah) 'Cause I got lots of commas (yeah) Louis and Ferragamo (yeah) This why I'm so stuck up (yeah) High off earth, I'm fucked up (dope) Bankroll got me puffed up (beep) She got a fat ass, then you know that I'ma fuck her (bang-bang) All these bitches know I get dough (beep-beep) Pop a nigga soul like Crisco (bang-bang) I'm smokin' on the gas like Citgo (dope, huh?) Fat ass on my bitch though (yeah, yeah) Big rims, on my whips, though (skrr-skrr) 30 clips, all my clips go (yeah, yeah) You talk a lot but you ain't on shit though (yeah, yeah) We let off shots, you 'bout to get hit though (bang-bang) Said, Tadoe off the molly (Tadoe), he spazzin' out in the party (yeah) G. B. E. the squad (G. B. E. baby), it's just us we don't need nobody (nah) And these bitches call me Papi (Sosa, baby) 'cause I gots lots of money (beep) It's a O'Block parade (O'Block), we love drummin' and bitch we coming (bang bang) You better love your woman (yeah) 'cause Sosa fuck any woman (Sosa, baby) These commas steady comin' (beep), I turned nothin' into somethin' (yeah) And I be tired as hell (yeah), but my dick won't sleep for nothin' (yeah) And we love getting money (fill), I swear we won't sleep for nothing (beep, yeah) See opps, we pull our Glocks out (Bang-bang), hollow tips pop out (bang-bang) 30 clips stick out (damn), boy, please don't get shot down (huh?) On the plug, I'll flood your block out (yeah), disrespect my block now Guarantee you get shot down (bang), choppers chop your block down (bang-bang) All these bitches know I get dough (beep-beep) Pop a nigga soul like Crisco (bang-bang) I'm smokin' on the gas like Citgo (dope, huh?) Fat ass on my bitch though (yeah, yeah) Big rims, on my whips, though (skrr-skrr) 30 clips, all my clips go (yeah, yeah) You talk a lot but you ain't on shit though (yeah, yeah) We let off shots, you 'bout to get hit though (bang-bang)