Lyrical Breakdown of Stoned Is The Way Of The Walk - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Stoned Is The Way Of The Walk" 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 "Stoned Is The Way Of The Walk" 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 "Stoned Is The Way Of The Walk" 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!
Stoned is the way of the walk,
Stoned is the way of the walk,
Well, it's the Alley Cat puffin' on a hootie rat,
Some think I'm a criminal,
But, yo I ain't all of that,
Hit ya with the baseball bat,
An' ya want to ill though,
Want to mess around,
You get fucked on the hill bro,
Kick it like a steel toe, real slow,
Hits from the bong,
Make me feel like Cheech,
And I'm kickin' it wit' Chong,
Just like Cheech and Chong frontin' with "Ice Cream",
Cypress Hill is here to give you a nice dream,
Speak it like a rolla', and you know it's rolled tightly,
I'm like the funky beat, so, why ya tryin' to fight me,
Pigs often site me, that's not polite G,
And any hour of the day ya know I might be,
Harassed by a pig real fast,
They want to Rodney King me,
Always tryin'a crown my ass,
Ain't got no class (No Class)
I hit they' ass like the buddah that's stinky,
They want to scruff but, they' just so rinky-dinky,
I'm the freaka, the one who freaks the funk,
Sen gotts the Philly, an' he's gonna light the blunt,
Sippin' after curfew makes me go koo-koo,
Somthin' like loco then turn in to this loocoo,
Binggin' the beta,yea, now the funk is risen,
Got the beta bass and the nasal highzen,
As I kick atrip, it comin' straight from my sinus,
Crazy nasal vocals, cannot make the hotties loco,
I rememba sista Maggie, breast were kinda saggy,
Used to sell me buddah outta fucked up little baggies
Honeyd up a twenty even when I had no money,
She said "Pay me back with some latin dick Sonnie"
Well I neva' went out, and I don' thnk I'm gonna,
Just for some buddah, she wanted me ta bone her,
Demeanin', ya think ya know what I', meanin',
I got somethin' for the hoes to be skeamin' on,
I'm the Buddah-Real take a trip ta hoota'ville,
I'll throw ya out the door, of my big blue Seville,
Then light another joint,
This ain't no exploition
For we are the ones stonin' in the ways of the mastas,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
Hit they ass, hit they ass,
Light the Buddha get stinky