Lyrical Breakdown of Another Late Night - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Another Late Night" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Drake weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Another Late Night" 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 Drake 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 Drake's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Another Late Night" not only celebrates Drake'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!
(Grow up, nigga)
Grrah, grrah, ayy
This lil' Drizzy reppin' 'Crete, ayy
My brother Capo from the way, he from the street, ayy
Wanna fuck with me? Well, baby, I'm discreet, ayy
Ayy, thinkin' 'bout this pill I took, pillow talkin'
Shawty rinsin' Dillon Brooks, can't believe this nigga talkin', damn
My bank account is magnolia, Milly rockin', ayy
Weirdos in my comments talkin' 'bout some Millie Bobby, look
Bring them jokes up to the gang, we get to really flockin'
Or send a finger to your mama in some FedEx boxes
Open up that shit, it's jaw droppin', really shockin', ayy
I ain't pretty flacko, bitch, this shit get really rocky, ayy, what?
Damn, what?
Dirty how I did him in the Wraith, what? Say
She actin' Hollywood, this ain't L.A., no way
She a pretty little lie like she Shay, but that's bae
Long as she don't lie to me, then it's okay
It's just another late night with my bitch, ayy
Just another late night with my bitch, ayy (with my bitch)
And I hate to even call her ass my bitch, ayy (yeah, my bitch)
'Cause I love that ho, don't even make no sense, right, yeah (pssh, pssh)
Just another late night with my dawg (pssh, with my dawg)
Just another late night with my bitch (pssh, with my bitch)
And we ridin' 'round tryna make sense (make sense)
Of whatever comes first, it comes next (yeah, blatt)
Hm, hm (grrah, pssh), hm (yeah, pssh), hm (yeah, pssh)
Hm, hm (pssh), hm (Concrete), hm
Huh, yeah (pssh), yeah, yeah, huh (pssh)
It's Lil Boat, I'm practically now from the 6ix (pssh, I'm from the 6ix, pssh)
My doggy Luxxy ignorant, he from the bricks (from the bricks)
Thinkin' 'bout this styrocup, really Wockin'
Let her fuck on one my opps, let's see who really poppin'
Demolition gang, pop out, yeah, we get it knockin'
Boost a white bitch up and now she think she really poppin'
Fuck my bitch new body, sadly, I got demoitis
My bitch know it's us without openin' either of her eyelids (us)
It be so pure I don't even fuck, ain't tryna raise her mileage
You take G6s knowin' you'll never take one with pilot ('kay)
I let her go, she fine as hell but baby wasn't stylish (yeah)
She had big tits like Billie Eilish but she couldn't sing (drip)
We catch the opps, don't want no apologies, just kiss the ring (mwah)
(Brrt) yeah, ring, (brrt, damn), yeah, ring
(Brrt) mwah, ring, (brrt), yeah, ring
I'll support the opps before I support sippin' green ('kay)
We up in Turks with twenty bitches, just me and my team (us)
It's just another late night with my bitch, ayy
Just another late night with my bitch, ayy (with my bitch)
And I hate to even call her ass my bitch, ayy (yeah, my bitch)
'Cause I love that ho, don't even make no sense, right, yeah (pssh, pssh)
Just another late night with my dawg (pssh, with my dawg)
Just another late night with my bitch (pssh, with my bitch)
And we ridin' 'round tryna make sense (make sense)
Of whatever comes first, it comes next (yeah, blatt)