Lyrical Breakdown of WAY PAST LUCK (feat. 21 Savage) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "WAY PAST LUCK (feat. 21 Savage)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how DJ Khaled weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "WAY PAST LUCK (feat. 21 Savage)" 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 Khaled 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 Khaled's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "WAY PAST LUCK (feat. 21 Savage)" not only celebrates DJ Khaled'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!
Whoa, whoa (We The Best Music)
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, whoa, whoa (another one, DJ Khaled)
I got fake friends givin' me hugs
I got record labels givin' me dubs
You can't book me at clubs
Police hate me, white fans show me love
I just gave away bikes with a judge
I grew up in the mud
Legal money, I got rich from workin'
I give back to my hood on purpose
When you make it to the top, you know them rumors gon' surface
Know you talk behind my back 'cause your ass always be nervous
Everything private on the jet, we got curtains (uh)
Thirty thousand feet and this bitch bust out twerkin'
I ain't from New Orleans, but I know that you heard me
I don't play tennis, but the models, they serve me
Feel like I'm that nigga, but plenty women done curved me
Know my worth, I gave myself that many women didn't deserve me
Trusted you, gave you my heart, and you did nothin' but hurt me
But one thing 'bout them tables, they just don't stop turning
One thing 'bout them tables, they just don't stop
Yeah, one thing 'bout this money, it just won't stop
Heart inside the trenches, I can't go pop
We make street records and they go pop
Still stand on business even though I'm rich
Niggas out of pocket, grab the pool stick
She don't get her purse, then she gon' throw a fit
But she ride me like a rodeo, no bullshit
I own a lot of homes, I got good deeds
Dottin' all my i's and crossin' all my t's
Lookin' at my children, all I see is me
You know it's different when you responsible for how somebody breathe
Make sure that they eat 'cause I'm a hustler
I don't believe in ghosts, but he's a buster
Top shotta, the streets know how many niggas we done roughed up
Ferrari one-point-two, remember ridin' in a pluck-pluck
Forty million a year, this shit right here way past lucked up