Lyrical Breakdown of Grown Ups (feat. Da$H) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Grown Ups (feat. Da$H)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Earl Sweatshirt feat. Dash weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Grown Ups (feat. Da$H)" 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. Dash 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. Dash's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Grown Ups (feat. Da$H)" not only celebrates Earl Sweatshirt feat. Dash'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!

So why'd they evict you, bro? Feel this cage when that acid fade Face the same, but your mind has changed You desire a stable home I acquire fame at naming hoes Contemplating ways of getting dome (Plotting on my neighbors Asking God for favors, guess he isn't home) Probably 'cause that fucking faith I didn't show (Skippin church, flip the work) Hit the dirt like Tommy run it bitch Grew up in a home that papa wasn't in Came up off of work that my conscience wasn't in Either way it goes, a lot is getting hit And if it wasn't hoes, then it probably was a lick Got burners on my soul, and my posse on my skin Sweaty D-A dollar top lotto picks Promise that I am not the one to fucking plot against Love him, but my father ain't my motherfucking friend Trying to figure out how to start a motherfucking end Trend dodging, keep a bitch by me, back roll (Garbage bag full of xans Place myself to rap still, nigga Cash is in hand Packs get vac sealed like the Tin Man Cardiac still missing, is it past real? Get it, work make Guinness) Don't know where I'm going, don't know where I been Never trust these hoes, can't even trust my friends Tell that bitch to roll up, fucking with some grown ups My mama wonder why I never seem to reach See my daddy in the way I'm acting And my facial features Just trying to put you on Dog, I came from teachers Take the plate and clean it Nigga, I'm a dog Tell her hit or miss me with the fucking monologue (Lord, I can't fight it, know I'm tryna brawl Get a copper hauled off Shit, I'm the type of nigga that you cop your raw off Popping hoes off) Grab the board and these niggas call charge (Chain switches jerseys like it's all star Press the OnStar, think it's all lost)