Lyrical Breakdown of Blackout - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Blackout" 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 "Blackout" 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 "Blackout" 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!

(Jay!) Fuck that (This is it right here baby!) You know what it is Yo, I used to have bad luck Now you might see me in a Jag truck Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck Double-R T with the matchin bandana 38-snub blue steel with no hammer And I see y'all niggaz tryin to glance at the 'Kiss Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist Phonin your women, drunk off Corona's and lemon And you know I'm still writin the mean, lightin the green I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you (They call me) Raspy, tell you what I want you to know Fuck what you ask me - you probably don't, want me to blow I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a 100 for The L.O.X. (yeah) And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a z-bull's my pet And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck Uh-huh, yeah, aiyyo Yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds And that's warnin, if you all alive in the mornin, that's fine Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine I want PC - see me? Tuck in your chains I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new That's Sheik in the dress-up club cause I don't fuck with shoes And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine? Don't make me motherfuckin leave you with some shit in yo' spine Fuck with me you be a WAS nigga, nigga WAS dope Nigga WAS gettin money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy? Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin pasta shells Order to go, always got a box of L's Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig I pop shit cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G. Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin legit You hold your nine if you holdin a brick Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from "Bronx Tale" Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die? I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime Motherfucker Yeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters; wake up and spit summers Ghetto nigga, puttin up Will Smith numbers Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us Tryin not to let this bullshit become us It started from hunger, til it all went insane Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted The beeper done changed; you dead bitch, the Reaper done came I suggest niggaz stop speakin my name Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain I keep creepin, streets keep watchin, I keep poppin Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin Jay flow for pesos -- chase hoes NOT I just circle 'round the block in a drop Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh) Where the sun roof used to be I could see y'all not used to me Nigga flows like none other - I'm the meanest Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya I'm the type that ...