Lyrical Breakdown of AM // Radio (feat. Wiki) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "AM // Radio (feat. Wiki)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Earl Sweatshirt feat. Wiki weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "AM // Radio (feat. Wiki)" 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 Earl Sweatshirt feat. Wiki 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 Earl Sweatshirt feat. Wiki's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "AM // Radio (feat. Wiki)" not only celebrates Earl Sweatshirt feat. Wiki'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!
19, still gettin' kicked out the crib
Ripped off my bib, spit out my food, hiccup and piss
Urine burnin', I could smell the liquor in this
Cats always tryna' pick up the fist
"Duff this dude out"
Rappers stoop just to get to your crib
Now, it's like bruised face, loose walk, too sauced
Distraught thoughts on my corpse on the asphalt
Back when I'd slack off, rock my slacks of my ass half-off
Every time I rap I blast-off
Back when I catch court I always had sports
Dippin' on cops in my track shorts
So tell my mom I had to make it right
I lie every night about the lime-light, so I could lie at night
And tell my pops I gotta take advice
Keep my head screwed on tight, abuse these mics
See me, I'm the contusion type
A cat to smack the mic against my fuckin' head when I'm losing hype
RATKING, never losing hype, no
Smack king, and I do it right, no
RATKING, yeah, I do it nice, woah
Bitch, I skated before I rapped
If you take me before your captain
Bet 20 hots on your daddy
That someone could Noila Clap em'
Probably cold and passive
'Cause pops was the one that got to me
Feeling down like he passed it
And when I'm cornered, it's action
I was kinda out the game
Mama put the quarter right back in the slot
In 09', we took the 7 to the Dussy 17 to the block
Bitch, if yo' nigga had Supreme, we was the reason he copped it
And nowadays, I'm on the hunt for mirrors to box with
And some pretty bitches that ain't trip if it's a hit and run
I got the gold 'cause I don't do the crying, bro
She Mario, I'm tryna' keep the whining to a minimum
Piggies come, bet I'm splittin' quicker than I finish rum
Find me some Indica
Nuggets on my fingers and my shirt like they was chicken crumbs
The room spinnin', finna yak if I don't hit the blunt
Got the chin wagging, slim chances of me getting up after this
Mind in the trash next to where my fuckin' passion went
Dodge fanatics, half a Xanax when I'm traveling six hours or more
Brick out on the tour, got kicked out of the morgue
Spit cattle manure shit, shit, rally the Horsemen
Tally the corpses