Lyrical Breakdown of Whoa (feat. Tyler, The Creator) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Whoa (feat. Tyler, The Creator)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Earl Sweatshirt feat. Tyler, the Creator weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Whoa (feat. Tyler, The Creator)" 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. Tyler, the Creator 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. Tyler, the Creator's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Whoa (feat. Tyler, The Creator)" not only celebrates Earl Sweatshirt feat. Tyler, the Creator'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!

Nah, no, fuck- nah, nah, fuck that Niggas think cause you fuckin' made Chum and got all personal That niggas won't go back to that old fuckin' 2010 shit About talkin' 'bout fuckin' all that No, fuck that, nigga, I got you Fuck that Grab mittens who have to spit blizzardous Actually flick cigarette ash at bitch niggas Harassment, eight nickels of hash, delay quick, and then dash To Saint Nicholas pad to taste venison Still in the business of smacking up little rappers with Racquets you play tennis with, hated for bank lifting and Spraying that hotter wind in the shade of his maimed innocence Suitcase scented with haze and fileted sentences Advanced apathy, smashing the man cameras up Tan khakis and antagonists Dan-dappered up Vagabond, had it since a Padawan Rapping hot as fuck in cattle brands, wearing flannel thongs Grab a bong, momma and some food, beer, tag along Get a nice spanking, new Sears catalog Send them nettled critics to the bezzle stop, dead and wrong Get 'em higher than the pitch of metal tea kettle songs Four deep in a Rover cannon Riding dirty through a Saugus canyon, niggas know that it's the G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G 50 K for the last check But the Dollar Menu still be on deck Nigga it's the mutherfuckin' G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G Yeah, the Misadventures of a shit talker Pissed as Rick Ross's fifth sip off his sixth lager Known to sit and wash the sins off at the pitch alter Hat never backwards like the print off legit manga Get it? Like a blue pill, make ya stick longer Or a swift fist off your chin from his wrist launcher Chick, chronic thrift shopper, thick like the Knicks roster Stormed off and came straight back like pigs' posture Pen? Naw, probably written with some used syringes From out the rubh bin at your local loony clinic Watching movies in a room full of goons he rented On the hunt for clues, more food, and some floozy women Bruising gimmicks with the broom he usually use for Quidditch Gooey writtens, scoot 'em to a ditch, chewed and booty scented Too pretentious, do pretend like he could lose to spitting Steaming tubes of poop and twisted doobies full of euphemisms Stupid, thought it up, jot it quick Thought out, toss it right back like a vodka fifth Spot him on a rocket swapping dollars in for pocket lint Then lob a wad of chicken at a copper on some Flocka shit Posing nigga try to disrespect Get a fucking thunder to his neck, shout out to Nak, cause it's the G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G Looking bummy, posted on the block, looking like I ain't make A quarter million off of socks, nigga, cause it's the G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G G-O-L-F-dub-A-N-G Bitch niggas, Wolf Gang (motherfuckers) Golf Wang nigga Trash Wang, motor squad. Yeah, stay off the block niggas You not welcome (motherfucker) Bitch, O-F nigga (yeah)