Lyrical Breakdown of Broccoli - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

• Lyric Overview: Witness how E-40 weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Broccoli" 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 E-40 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 E-40's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Broccoli" not only celebrates E-40'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!

Let's get sick wid it, baby Sick wid it, baby, yeah Let's get sick wid it, baby Said, I'm gonna get so sick wid it, yeah Said I'm gonna get high I don't need no doctor, I don't need no shrink All I need is broccoli and a 40-oz to drink Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out While I was bullshittin' Bitch tried to hit me upside the head with her shoe Talin' 'bout, "Who the fuck you been doin' it to? Comin' home always smellin' like tuna fish and brew" I said "Bitch, if you don't get up outta my talkin' face I'ma slap you real tough-like And I can almost rest assure you That it ain't gon' be no pretty sight" 24-7 3 sixty fin I pull out my dick and spell my name in my piss Shoot the hundred fool, let's play for pink slips, whatchu slammin' That there shit across the street? That ugly ass gremlin' Buy some sticky, you got the pillow Here go some Black 'n' Mild style, split it down the middle What's that? That Oakland Crip? Nah it's that white widow I was about to say cause they'd botha have your ass Up in the hospital, check it out I don't need no doctor, I don't need no shrink All I need is broccoli and a 40-oz to drink Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out Smell me on this one, check it out Hit up for five and hold it for ten, I'm true lung Let's see who got the most wind, get 'em sprung Make 'em wanna come back and spend, Afghani bomb From juice and Seagram's Gin Fuck all of that Cristal-poppin', drinkin' Moet shit, I'm from the block Wheaties, Thunderbird, gorilla milk and Aftershock Boom square wide country?, Wild Irish Rose Smugglin' Hennessey and scotch, Jagermeister and Tequila shots Drinkin' forty ounces was how I first got my figure Then I graduated to straight malt liquor So hah, let me take a swig of that Crown Royal What you puttin' on that blunt huh? Hash oil My Panamanian saha from south San Francisco On some marijuana farm down in San Luis Obisbo Wake yo' ass up Charlie Hustle, wake yo' ass up, why you asleep? 'Cause, nigga that shit got my twaskin' my life nigga, shit Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out I don't need no doctor, I don't need no shrink All I need is broccoli and a 40-oz to drink Seein' two's and three's Highly intoxicated while I'm slidin' on a brim Set of Z's and V's, spit Long Range Pimpin' L-R P sophisticated wannabe's, stuck up H O E's Disease-infested back-polluted pussy hoochie mamas, ooh ooh Give a damn, make that 2 8 9, think I had a V8 Highly carburetor, four-barrel engine scram Get gas, go in sideways, figured up like a philly Ready, get that motherfucker hop up away Everybody got the munchies and they ain't tryin' ta miss We ride around the corner, nigga, there go Emmitt Smith Webulation Bust a U-ey folker, oh as I'm hoppin' out Damn that's my beeper, I got dinner at the house The rules and regulations of the game up in the yay Just slap a bitch, silly if she gets off in my way She's open to all the brothers, forgive me grandma yay Three or four different bitches, five or six different times a day I don't need no doctor, I don't need no shrink All I need is broccoli and a 40-oz to drink Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out Let's get sick wid it, baby Let's get sick wid it, baby