Lyrical Breakdown of Azucar - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Azucar" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Earl Sweatshirt weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Azucar" 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 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's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Azucar" not only celebrates Earl Sweatshirt'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!
Petal to the metal
Lost foot and it was sugar in my gas tank
My cushion was a bosom on bad days
There's not a black woman I can't thank
You called crying when I told you these the last days
It's all mine, could've split the last plate
Niggas didn't have faith, so I stopped tryin'
Apologize, and we outta time
Please get ya alibis straight, you ain't gotta lie
It's a tradition did it my way
No sense of looking in the sky
Trace elements meddle with minds
Mind-state live fizzes and fires
Niggas with live ammunitions in the stick on the highway
I only get better with time
That's what my mom say, the doc' say, he to kill him this time
Well here I go, foot on the line
What's mine, what good is it if it's not, you sick of it
Sicky, sicky, niggas wasn't shit
Face looking like I stumbled out of bed, hundred dollar jet
I piss problems out the bottom
Empty mama said she used to see my father in me
Said I was not offended
Press, King, Navy, Med, Mike on the bench
Living life like a nigga put a price on my head
Bless, this how we on it
If you need it and I want it better come prepared
Going through it like prayers in the night sky
You look like the chair when you folding up
Hands on like a goalie with the puck, don't need any luck
See the ghost of where I was, lonesome as I was