Lyrical Breakdown of Stranded On Death Row - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Stranded On Death Row" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Dr. Dre weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Stranded On Death Row" 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 Dr. Dre 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 Dr. Dre's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Stranded On Death Row" not only celebrates Dr. Dre'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!

Yes, it is I says me And although agree Are more than three, cause they're we Yes, yo!, I'm in the house now for sure Because I wanna talk about the hearts of men Who knows what evil lurks within them But lets take a travel down the blindside And see what we find on this... Path... Called... Stranded on Death Row, so duck when I swing my shit I get rugged like Rawhead Rex with fat tracks that fits The gangsta type, what I recite's kinda lethal Niggaz know, the flow that I kick, there's no equal I'm murderin niggaz, Yo, and maybe because of the tone I kicks when I grip the mic and kick shit Niggaz can't fuck with So remember I go hardcore, and slam Nuff respect like a sensei, ba-bash like Van Damme So any nigga that claim they bossin What don't you bring your ass on over to Crenshaw and Slauson Take a walk through the hood when we up to no good Slangin them things like a real O.G. should I'm stackin and mackin and packin a ten so When you're slippin, I slip the clip in But ain't no set tripppin Cause it's Death Row, rollin like the mafia Think about whoopin some ass, but what the fuck stoppin ya Ain't nathin but a buster I'm Stranded on Death Row for pumpin slugs in motherfuckers Now you know you're outdone Feel the shotgun, Kurupt - inmate, cell block one No prevention from this mention of sorts Your're a victim, from my driveby of thoughts No extensions, all attempts are to fail Blinded by the light, it's time you learn braile From the lunatic, I death like arsenic When I kick up wicked raps Dr. Dre will kick the scratch With treachery, my literary form will blast And totally surpass the norm Not a storm, plural, make it, many storms When I'm vexed, I fly leg necks and arms In this dimension, I'm the presenter And the inventor, and the tormentor Deranged, like the hillside strangler MC mangler, tough like Wrangler I write a rhyme, hard as concrete Step to the heat and get burned like mesquite So what you wanna do The narrator RBX, cell block two Rage, lyrical murderer Stranded on Death Row And now I'm servin a lifetime sentence There'll be no repentence Since it's the life that I choose to lead I plead guilty On all counts let the ball bounce where it may It's just another clip into my AK Buck em down with my underground tactics Facts and stacks of clips on my mattress Bed frame there's another dead pain Layin lain with the shame, who's to blame Me, the lady of Rage On when I'm comin from the D-E-A-T-H in R-O-W takin, no shit So flip and you're bound to get dropped It's 187 on motherfuckers don't stop Handcuffed as I bust there'll be no debate It's Rage, from cell block eight And yo steppin through the fog And creepin through the smog It's the number one nigga from the hood, Doggy Dogg Makin videos, now I stay in Hollywood Bustin raps for my snaps now they call me Eastwood Dre is the doctor and my homey little nigga Warren G is my hand and my hand's on the trigga Shootin at the hoes with the game that I got Sent to death row cause I wanted to make a grip from servin my rocks And I'm still, servin for mines, peace To my motherfuckin homies doin time In the pen and the county jail Mobbin with your blues on, mad as hell And you say yeah fuck the police And all the homies on the streets is all about peace And it's drivin the cops crazy But ain't nuttin but a black thing bay-bee, uhhh No I'm not flaggin, but I'm just saggin I betcha don't wanna see the D-O double G And you can't see, the D-R to the E Or my motherfuckin homey D.O.C. You know you can't fuck with my motherfuckin DJ That's my homey and we call him Warren G Yeah, and you don't stop Doggy Dogg break em down with the motherfuckin Dogg Pound That's the only way we'll beat em man We gotta smoke em, then choke em Like the motherfuckin peter man It's like three and to the two