Welcome to the detailed analysis of "XXL" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "XXL" 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "XXL" not only celebrates undefined'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!
I got 20 on my beat
Everybody know my name ringin' bells
Ringin' bells like the hallway (uh-huh)
I ain't gotta cap in no motherfuckin' rap
I'll whip out and air it out broad day (mmm)
I got in with that stick, and I'm with that
Break a nigga in half like a Kit-Kat (uh-huh)
I been tryna be positive, mama (uh-huh)
They ain't fuckin' wit' Jonathan, mama (nope)
Who you know put they motherfuckin' self on the map
And now they don't owe nobody shit? (Me!)
I send one of my lil' niggas, come take you off
You get laid on the floor by a jit (ha)
Got pulled over with 55K in my pocket (woo)
The police, they know I'm legit (woo, woo)
The police, they know I got sticks
They be worried about me, they know I'm a clique
These niggas, they know I'm a dawg
I ain't worried about him, I know he a bitch (meow)
The next nigga that come play with me
I'ma send him to go ask 2Pac for a pic, bitch
They say I'm the hottest new nigga
Go check the thermometer, that nigga sick (hot)
Nigga must have a fever or somethin'
Heard he was born up in Cleveland or somethin' (uh-huh)
Let me give you a history lesson
We moved back to Charlotte, 1999 (okay)
I ain't sayin that none of that matter
'Cause if somebody touch me, then somebody dyin' (no cap)
Why he talkin' so calm when he say that? (Huh?)
How he make 'em rewind and replay that? (Yeah)
Who you know get a fade once a week and they tryna get waves?
Fuck a motherfuckin' wave-cap (uh-huh)
Every time that the DJ play "Suge"
Niggas throw up they arms like a motherfuckin' racetrack (let's go)
Every time that my baby girl see me
She run and say "daddy", I love when she say that (mwah)
Every time I hit one of my moves
All the bitches go crazy, they like how I do that (let's go)
I keep one in the head, if I don't let off first
I'ma dive to the side when I shoot back
Yeah, I'm comin' like Blade in this bitch (ah)
Fuck around, and walked out in a trench coat
They gon' have to put me with the greats (uh-huh)
Wanna fuck with me, she gotta wait (bitch)
On the yacht, with me, me and the kids
There's four of us, we on the sea eatin' steak (yep)
I won't go back and forth with a shrimp
You goin out sad 'bout a ho, I'm a pimp (ha)
He keep bumpin' his motherfuckin' gums
We gon' put his ass up like a motherfuckin' blimp (bitch)
Like to talk on the pillow wit' hoes, that's gon' get him exposed
He a motherfuckin' simp (hold up)
You know he got that thang on him, baby
Quit askin' him why that boy walk with a limp (shh, shh, shh)
I don't care 'bout this motherfuckin' chain (uh-huh)
But I'll still bust your motherfuckin' brain (uh-huh)
Just got head on a motherfuckin' plane (no cap)
Ain't no cap in my rap, I'm the truth (ha)
End up fuckin' this ho from the back
I knew her for a day, she on go
She the swoop (yeah, yeah, yeah, swoop)
And these niggas ain't livin' like that
Why he talkin' so gangsta? Your bro, he a fluke (fluke, fluke)
They know baby gon' blow, he a flute (flute)
They know baby gon' blow, he the bomb (boom)
They know baby was just in Miami
Now he in LA, nigga think he LeBron (ha)
They know baby go baby on baby (uh-huh)
But five years ago, nigga say he was John (keep goin')
I touch down at the front of the plane
And the driver come pick up my Louis Vuitton (them facts)
While he drive me around, I be blowin' out pressure
I'm chillin' back seat with the iron (bitch)
And I'm done with this shit, man
I'm one of the best motherfuckin' rappers
Man, you know (I'm done with this)
But I ain't gon' keep, you know, I mean, braggin' 'bout this
I'm done with this one, I'm the best motherfuckin' rapper, man
Quit playin' with baby, man, do not play with me
I'm just exercising
I'm just exercising my craft, that's it (I'm the best motherfuckin' rapper)
And I'm not gonna keep sayin' this shit, I'm done sayin' this shit
Uh, and I got 20 on my motherfuckin' beat, but this nigga can't engineer for shit
I'm 'bout to make this nigga just start makin' beats and quit engineering
A'ight, cut that shit off