Lyrical Breakdown of Mob Sh*t - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Mob Sh*t" 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 "Mob Sh*t" 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 "Mob Sh*t" 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!

Mob shit bitch What you know about this mob shit? What you know about this mob shit? Sit down, stop talking that mob shit If you ain't really from the mob bitch You was born with a silver spoon in your mouth, (what kind you have) I was born with a rusty one, I had to get out there and help my momma out (real nigga shit) Been a hustler since a younging (since a younging) keeping it lit like a cigarette camels humps Plotting on me, better chill like goose bumps You wanna tuck em homie, better pack your lunch like a multi task do two or three things at once Get my dick sucked dropping it funky And smoke a blunt, in the streets I'll never flump I say it in your face when I sober I ain't gotta be drunk Dramatics over badges MOB Got a lot on that leaning the brocoli Beverge site you 23 for a certain we get you gone Sing at home when you belong with the mag and living your learning return the wood its on fire so let it burn Respect that giving the gift is our You rappers need to quit it with that mob shit You wasn't in the kitchen tryna' lock shit You wasn't on the block busting hot shit You really need to stop you are not it B he a boss he kept the block buzing 40 got a distorded shotty got it fludding Niggas getting down thugging in the public Hunnids on the old school hoes love it Pardon me baby but I get around And they dont make a sound all for the rounds And I dont make a sound when they ask me Rule number one stay task free Masterd baby, but im so loyal I fuck around with it when im on the loyal And you dont fuck around know your own soyal It made a real nigga wanna bounce for fun I've been A1 since day one Prolly sold more coke than ronald regean Still in the kitchen with the bulletproof apron With your bitch on her knees, begging What you suposed to do? never poodle up to a man nigga Never whip out if you ain't planning on squeezing the fucking trigga Money dont make me I make money What do I look like flumping over to broke? Nigga ima mack around g Now I done got mine for the A-low Got em back to the hood and they didn't go Its panic mechanic, and im for sho' But never on the flow could I pound the dough Trap fam hoodrat got em strapped Swearing over mama never heard of that Tryna' murder me I will murder back Find me with them niggas talking bout another sack