Lyrical Breakdown of Young Money Property - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

• Lyric Overview: Witness how DJ Drama weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Young Money Property" 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 DJ Drama 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 DJ Drama's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Young Money Property" not only celebrates DJ Drama'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!

1: Curren$y] Curren$y the hot spitter Fast life, slow slow Lost a couple, that ain't shit, I got more Bank so easy, niggas you know me Bitches talk to sideways get smacked the fuck up I'm a pimp, but I don't move with a pimp cup I'd rather keep my dreams in a thermos Told yall before I was an advanced learner Cops tryna send me of the camp like Ernest Yeah, but I ain't walk for that walk Fuck around with me and I just let that gat talk Yeah, I'mma let that heat spray Right where you standing that's where you gone lay Still play it cool, get off the streets Cops came to the house, moms told them I was sleep Cause she memorized the script to a tee Told them that I had the flu and I was in the bed for weeks Yeah, another victim of a murderer Got your family running asking people have they heard of ya All over, putting up posters Like you got an album about to drop But there ain't nothing bout to drop but that casket Label me a bastard even though I know my pops, yeah Ratting gang said I fell off the scene Though I'm coming back like I forgot my keys, yeah It's a shame how I gotta duck shots From these hating ass niggas and these crooked ass cops Fuck it, it just make me grind harder Now I'm signed to young Carter P89 be the answers to the my problem Performance get 'em mad, I'm a starter Number 1 draft pick, laughing in a black 6 Talk big shit and still turn bricks like back flips Young Money be the circle that I ride fo' Nigga we live to stay fly on you ass holes It ain't a doubt, I'mma rep that Chicago But I got so much love for the south Where the women be most thick and give great mouth And love all the shit that a thug be 'bout Now let these things ling out YM bitch, now it's time to bang out Gorilla with the flow, nigga finna blow Ice everywhere, chinchilla to the flo' Escalade trucks with the chromed out buggy Type of shit I got since the nigga got paid Nigga gained a little weight but the hoes still love me Still let a nigga put a dick to they face Run up in your crib, put the burner to your face Leave the scene with out a trace at a earn hard pace But no I ain't bail, I ain't tryna hit the wall Tryna make a little broad and get her back to the place Yo man trip, I show 'em what the Ruger hold Catch a flight to Jayville, can't miss the Super Bowl Then it's back to the hood cause I love the streets Better find Noah's Ark, bout to flood the streets Young Money, that's the clan Mack Maine, I'm the man Getting money is the plan The Rugers don't jam Weezy F. kinda nice with the Glock But I'm better than that with the rock Tryna land me a spot at the Rock If my city got word of that Niggas want me to hook them up with Fox I done got young Mal off the block Now the haters don't know where he at Tryna do the same thing for cops That's my young brother, he got shot If a nigga try to jack Then we coming back like Hip-Hop Got the bullets coming out the pump Running through your stomach back like a Running Back I ain't got the Emit Smith bitch I got the Dorset AR-33 shooting like a Cowboy Tryna see red skin, bitch I'm fly, I'm sky born Young Ozzy Osbourne floating like the cloud boy Got them bitches pilled up, blowing like a plow truck With they fucking mouths up, south up!