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