Lyrical Breakdown of Check It Ooout - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Check It Ooout" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Del the Funky Homosapien weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Check It Ooout" 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 Del the Funky Homosapien 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 Del the Funky Homosapien's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Check It Ooout" not only celebrates Del the Funky Homosapien'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!

When it's time for me to recline I listen to rhymes and beats in the waves of the spine, To the brain Relievin' pain & anguish The stangest arrays make me sway and make my day brighta The hip hop envia. Write arrive a little soona Check the soles on my Pumas My attitude is miserable Cause in my mind I'm sayin' here's a fool I don't like I won't strike his ass in the face I'm blastin' the bass in my headphones A fool don't have to get his head flown Why waste time with rhymes? I get straight to the point Like I HATE when funk's in the joint The hip hop is playin' Sprintin' in to spray men Don't threaten me Or you won't be able to see When I gouge ya eyes out I despise doubt On your part Like I won't stab you in your heart My flow is drastic Serious, sarcastic My motto is, "Phuck with me & get your ass kicked." And that's the key to understandin' me And if they cool then the foot is what you'll be brandin', B Yeah... (BRIDGE:) "Check It ooooout!" (Repeat) I love to peep a rhyme First of all I'm seein' if my man can keep the time If he go off beat, and it's on purpose He gotta come back on the beat Or the effort is worthless I like ot hear a cool flow But if it's identical to another, he a fool for it Ya gotta build, Upon skills And all that copy that most popular rapper shit can get killed I like a nigga who is quick witted Cause it make me feel like I do, when I come from where my dick splitted And I admit it, it's a joy When I hear a nigga avoid the wack and make 'em paranoid I loves niggas who talk shit Cause that's my department I got somethin' for anyone who starts shit Cause I'm relentless With a sentence A jail sentence, after I beat you senseless I like niggas when they add rhymes, mad rhymes Then I laugh at niggas who fell off and had rhymes Just some descriptions of what I like to listen to With my Bruce Banner scanner point of view... ('Pe-urnnnn') (BRIDGE) Now I'm bout to clown a bitch She made my eyebrows twitch Cause she's rich Yeah, real funny She makes some money For puttin' other niggas down You nuthin' but a clown You can't write And you're not bright You fail to notice the dopeness Cause you have no insight You need to quit You ain't shit You need to get a lesson, in hip hop detection And you're next in my list to jack It's a fact not fiction Bitch, stop ya bitchin' You write articles I'ma rip apart ya skull Cause ya dull Not entertainin' I'ma put ya brain in orbit Cause I'm morbid Thinkin' a new ways to kill ya And yo, I feel ya Ya too critical And ain't got a bit a pull Just admit it fool Before we get rid of you A rolling stone gathers no moss And now who will pay the cost And afterwards get lost Hit the dirt, before you get hurt I eat stupid bitches like you and a rhyme for dessert I bet you never get no dick You make me so sick So my pistol is loaded... (BRIDGE)