Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Guild (feat. Mac Miller)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Guild (feat. Mac Miller)" 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Guild (feat. Mac Miller)" not only celebrates undefined'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!
Uh, said this a hit of liquid heroin
Marilyn Manson channeling, panicking, spar with Anakin
'Til one of us leave in an ambulance
Blow the smoke of the spliff in your eyes
You ain't gon' live 'til you die
Intelligent bitch on my side
She bitching, I'm spitting habitual lies
I hit her up when my jet land (call her)
Got a Swisher tucked in my headband (baller)
Front page news, I'm young Jesus
Eating bagels with no cable on (let's go)
Been fucking hoes since when Mase was on (okay)
I hope the Based God hears my prayers (pray)
One day you're here, the next day you're gone
So me and Earl smoking weed on Jay-Z's lawn
Some dope rap on your hoe ass, Tony Womack
Don't hold back, no, feed your girl Cognac (woah)
Meet a bitch, sleepin' wit' her, feverish, diva chick
Met her off Twitter, even Schindler keep a list (okay)
Pittsburgh, broke down somewhere in a Fisker (uh-huh)
I could pull your bitch with a whisper (uh-huh) then diss her (woah)
Dumbass hoe (hoe)
She only dumb 'cause she love that dough (okay)
Somewhere getting high reading, Juxtapoz
Hit her up, she come through, watch Adjustment Bureau (that's a good movie)
Moms love me 'cause I'm so commercial ('mercial)
I fuck 'em raw 'cause I know they fertile (fertile)
In Myrtle Beach with a purple fleece (fleece)
Hotel lobbies playin' Für Elise (yeah)
I'm Ron Burgundy mixed with Hercules
Slap a bitch in the mouth if she curse at me (ow)
Said Josh beard is like Paul Revere
When he walk in the room it's like God is here
I'm at a prop shop in Montauk throwing tomahawks at civilians
I'm chillin', yeah
I'm on the monitor nigga
She taking it like a champ
And I'm proud of her nigga
I'm on the couch where that loud is burning
I'm shouting, "I don't fuck with you"
'Cause I don't, never love a hoe
But we could play doctor, ma
Open wide for the thermometer
Your cowgirl is crotch riding (nigga)
With a clean, faded fro, lopsided (uh)
Tell the label that I want a white driver (uh)
And tell him give me space, I don't know that nigga (nigga)
Bold-ass little fuckin' low-class villian (willain)
Whole van tinted (tinted), nope, can't kill him (no)
It's the Trashwang nigga (nigga), that's what's up (nigga)
Half pint of hope in that plastic cup (come on)
Real nigga from the start 'til the casket shut (uh)
Present his own case, he's a basket one (one)
Present-day based nigga, smack the judge (judge)
Riding with them same niggas ashin' blunts
While that bass make his face like he mad or somethin' (uh)
Slide in the safe, take the cash and run
Know that if he fake I'm harrassin' him
Took the big toe so they tagged the tongue
Out here stuntin' like I'm supposed to, dog (dog)
Blowing more smoke than a broke exhaust
Pipe, only spirit that I hold menthol (uh)
It's Wolf Gang bitch like you know these paws
Living like it's '62 (uh)
Spit and grip my genitals (uh)
My bitch just split the Swisher
My niggas split the residuals
Aye, it's marijuana fields
Pot growing, blaring Gil Scott
Heron while we pill pop
Errand run and kill cop
Niggas know I feel not
For 'em, stop bitching, bruh
Stare and get that grill knocked open
Aye, it's marijuana fields
Pot growing, blaring Gil Scott
Heron while we pill pop
Errand run and kill cop
Niggas know I feel not
For 'em, stop bitching, bruh
Stare and get that grill knocked open (nigga)