Lyrical Breakdown of Re-Up - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Re-Up" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Danny Brown weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Re-Up" 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 Danny Brown 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 Danny Brown's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Re-Up" not only celebrates Danny Brown'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!
Used to get domed up by crackheads
And still got my balls licked by pretty bitches
Sagging in Scottie Pippens, kid on a Gotti mission
But see his downfall, your best friend snitchin'
I'm in the kitchen with the Mac Spoon and lactose
Rat bitch rubbing on her titties off the roll
Nigga, calm down, listen for the door
I know my baby mama bet not call no more
Bitch talking Pampers, know she full of shit
Impossible for babies to take that many shits
Rapping 'bout bricks but I ain't never seen one
I think I seen like three hundred bowls once
Fucking with them addicts, holding automatics
Dog I ain't lying, even served a Dramatic
Used to bring the lettuce then I had to dead it
Ass tried to sing every time he wanted credit
And I'm tryna make re-up, fuck around, put a G up
And blow a blunt with my mans
See I'm just tryna make a re-up, fuck around, put a G up
And drink a fifth with my niggas
Christmas every year comes faster and faster
New Years come, claim a baby on your taxes
Dog I know connects, you middle-man taxing
Three gram dimes of weed, you was rocking Chloe glasses
Did it for the Jordans for what you feel important
In O2 my increased the dropout rate at Northern
See ya bitches skipping, get 'em weeded out
And take 'em to the back room, my nigga smut 'em out
Hood rat bitches puttin' blunts in they mouth
Smoke some weed, order Coney, time to fuck and out
Rock a fit for three days and go and cop a new one
Rode a bike to Linwood to give away my ones
Hopped up out the cab and when I step out
The first thing they say "I ain't know them came out"
But nigga I ain't tripping, I'm grinding on a few bucks
Really balling and I'm tryna step it up
And I'm tryna make re-up, fuck around, put a G up
And blow a blunt with my mans
See I'm just tryna make a re-up, fuck around, put a G up
And drink a fifth with my niggas