Lyrical Breakdown of 13 Strictly Hip Hop - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "13 Strictly Hip Hop" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Cypress Hill weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "13 Strictly Hip Hop" 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 Cypress Hill 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 Cypress Hill's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "13 Strictly Hip Hop" not only celebrates Cypress Hill'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!
B-Real:
I neva rapped on an RandB record, and I neva will,
I got these phoney muthafuckas, talk about lets keep it real,
But, they don't know how to take they own advisement,
Going out, do it solo on an advertisement, comecializing
Fuckin' sell out, nigga, this is hip-hop, not fasion,
Get the hell out,
I'm taking out these so called gangsta niggas,
Takin' pictures, modeling clothes for small figures,
And I neva took another fuckin' MC's shit,
And made it my first single, fuck a hit,
Fuckin' hypocrite, you can get the dip, when I lick a shot off,
I'm gonna, and all of it,
It's a damn shame when you got all these fools in the record industry,
Sellin' out for the fame,
I just sit back and watch thes fools with their gimmicks,
Go down in flames, in the big game,
B-Real:
Zippidey-dooda, I smoke weed and I got brain damage,
But, I don't give a fuck cause I still manage,
To represent to the fullest,
No pop singles, and no actin' foolish,
To the studio gangsta with the articles,
In them magazines with the bitch editors,
Keep it real in the game,
Niggas got no shame,
Now all the executives want all the fame,
Based on the videos, just a gang of silly hoes,
For the fuck-em industry that's take'n all ya dough,
I never stole it, stole it all,
Just hard work, and sweat, for them platinum records on the wall,
Fools want me to fall,
I won't cause my roots are to thick and strong, like the chocolate
tastic,
I hear niggas say no, but, I know they front,
Cause afta they shows they want me to smoke a blunt,
I don't respect a hypocrite, muthafuckas I despise,
Cause me I tell the truth, even when I tell a lie,
All you bruthas in the game run a check,
Cause you get checked fucked off, with no respect,
Muthafuckas