Lyrical Breakdown of Go - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Go" 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 "Go" 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 "Go" 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!
All I need is my family and dividends
Stick with what I got, don't need no new friends
Because the truth of the matter, now that I think about it
People that I thought was solid turned out to be salad
Tipsy while I'm servin, smokin' urban
Sippin' Kuiper Belt, that's E-40's new bourbon
I'm whiskied, I'm burnt, and I don't care
Everybody on the soil know I ain't all the way there
I like to hear myself talk, no shuttin' up
Triple fitted, triple shots in my cup
Ready to squabble and knuckle up
Prepare for altercations when confrontations about to erupt
Anybody can get it, ain't nothin' changed
All it take is some little itty-bitty chump change
It's triflin', it's scandalous, shit can get sour
At 4 A.M. in the morning, the murder hours
Go, run (run)
Go, run (run)
Go, run (run)
Go, run (run)
Do the crime, do the time like I never left
Back me up in the corner, never confess
I like to drink like the midget from Game of Thrones
Gamma for push-ups when I slap bones
Wrist doin' VVS's, them certified stones
Never know who been listening when you're talking on them phones
Gotta stay polished and crispy and buttoned-up
Keep 1911 Camper Michael nine on the tuck
Gotta watch your whereabouts, be on the hush
They'll sneak you, they'll dirt you, shoot up your truck
Laptop thieves, grab-and-go theft
Cherk parties and vandalism
It come with the package, it's not an option
Sucka shit is in the air like a toxin
I'm having chalupa, gettin' my gouda
You don't want smoke, you not a hookah
Go, run (run)
Go, run (run)
Go, run (run)
Go, run (run)
Droop-E on the beat