Lyrical Breakdown of Huey - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Huey" 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 "Huey" 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 "Huey" 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!

Foot and hand on the gates We was jumping 'em, fuck, I'm like quicksand in my ways Was always stuck in 'em, stuck it in and an ambulance came The first time, which ain't fast if you Los Angeles-raised (nigga) My bitch say the spliff take the soul from me (ayy) And the clique tight-knit, it's like the 'lo rugby Beat the fuckin' beat like it stole from me You can talk to Clancy, you need a feature, or quote from me (bitch) I'm off Delancey, I reek of reefer and show money It's Early running with niggas who cold running shit The wins like lotion He get 'em, he gon' rub 'em in Critics pretend they get it, and bitches just don't fuck with him I spent the day drinking and missing my grandmother Just grab a glass and pour up some cold white wine in it Or Colt .45 in it, you know how I get it I'm toasting myself, and a toast to all my niggas And ain't no time limit, I'm toasted as hell And I gotta jot it quick 'cause I can't focus so well And now, a formal introduction