Lyrical Breakdown of Pick One - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Pick One" 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 "Pick One" 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 "Pick One" 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!
Remember posted on the block ready for the war
Running up a house and straight kick in door
Posted on the front right on Grenshaw
On Indian toting big guns
When I come through, Hut! attention
Niggas full of hate they full of tension
Come through with the chopper you can call me Sosa ten guns
Dead or in jail nigga pick one
Your drawers got lit on it, talking money I been on ya
Don't make me up this fif on ya, give your ass a 51
I be smoking 91, you be smokin' 61
You only smoke that 87, you be smokin' that shitty stuff
I be smoking that 93, think I was born in 93
Ben Frank said he was having dinner, he called me and invited me
Cops got pictures of me selling dope, they call me and indicted me
I don't even like to talk but my money it like to speak
You got 15 for a V shit that's aight with me
But I gotta call you back cause your verse price was beat
On the block it was me, white, pipes and weed
Let an opp pull up, I'ma get the strikey things
Remember posted on the block ready for the war
Running up a house and straight kick in door
Posted on the front right on Grenshaw
On Indian toting big guns
When I come through, Hut! attention
Niggas full of hate they full of tension
Come through with the chopper you can call me Sosa ten guns
Dead or in jail nigga pick one
Dead or in jail nigga pick one
Heaven or in hell a nigga in one
I don't play ball I cross the N one
Shot the threes, we street ballers, dunk a damn point
I'm rolling up backwoods fuck your damn joint
I don't like them swishers they don't feel right
You feel like ballin', feel like stallin', what you feel like
I ain't can't get right, I'm Mr. Get Right
I'm riding with that missile I won't miss you, I'm gonna hit you
Wassup to the bay, wassup South Central
Wassup to L.A, I'm some Chiraq ass nigga
I still be in my ways, I be totin' my pistol
Remember posted on the block ready for the war
Running up a house and straight kick in door
Posted on the front right on Grenshaw
On Indian toting big guns
When I come through, Hut! attention
Niggas full of hate they full of tension
Come through with the chopper you can call me Sosa ten guns
Dead or in jail nigga pick one