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