Lyrical Breakdown of So Far... - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "So Far..." on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Eminem weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "So Far..." 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 Eminem 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 Eminem's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "So Far..." not only celebrates Eminem'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!

I own a mansion, but live in a house A king-size bed, but I sleep on the couch I'm Mr.Brightside, glass is half full But my tank is half empty, gasket just blew This always happens, thirty minutes from home Gotta lay a log cabin and only option I have is McDonald's bathroom In a public stall dropping a football So every time someone walks in the john I get Madden "Shady, what up?"- What? Come on, man, I'm crapping And you're asking me for my got damn autograph on a napkin? Oh, that's odd, I just happened to run out of tissue Yeah, hand me that, on second thought I'd be glad then "Thanks, dawg, name's Todd, a big fan" I wiped my ass with it, crumbled it up in a wad and threw it back and Told him "Todd, you're the shit" when does all of this crap end? Can't park my ass without causing an accident Puff my gas, cut my grass, can't take out the fucking trash Without someone passing through my sub harassing I'd count my blessings, but I suck at math I'd rather wallow then bass suffering from succotash But the antacid is my stomach gas When I mix my corn with my fucking mash Potato, so what, ho, kiss my country bumpkin ass Missouri Southern roots, what the fuck is upperclass Call lunch dinner, call dinner supper Tupperware in a covered plastic wear up the ass Stuck in the past, iPod, what the fuck is that? B-boy to the core, mule, I'm a stubborn ass Maybe that's why I feel so strange Got it all, but I still won't change Maybe that's why I can't leave Detroit It's the motivation that keeps me going This is the inspiration I need I can never turn my back on a city that made me (Life's been good to me so far) They call me classless, I heard that, I second and third that Don't know what the fuck I would doing if it weren't rap Probably be a giant turd-sack But I blew, never turned back Turned forty and still sag Teenagers act more fucking mature, Jack Fuck you gonna say to me? I leave on my own terms, asshole, I'm going berzerk My nerves are bad, but I love the perks my work has I get to meet famous people, look at her, dag Her nylons ran, her skirt snag And I heard she drag-races, *burp* swag Fucking my Hanes shirt tag You're Danica Patrick (yeah) work, skag We'd be the perfect match 'Cause you're a vacuum, I'm a dirtbag My apologies, no disrespect to technology But what the heck is all of these buttons? You expect me to sit here and learn that? Fuck I gotta do to hear this new song from Luda? Be an expert at computers? I'd rather be an encyclopedia Britannica, hell with a Playstation I'm still on my first manual from Zelda Nintendo, bitch, run, jump, punch, stab and I melt the Mozzarella on my spaghetti, put in on bread Make a sandwich with welch's and belch They say this spray butter is bad for my health, but I think there's more white trash from the trailer Jed Clampett, Redd Sanford welfare mentality helps to Keep me grounded, that's why I never take full advantage of wealth, I Managed to dwell within these parameters Still cramming the shelves full of hamburger helper I can't even help it, this is the hand I was dealt to Creature of habit, feel like I'm trapped in an animal shelter With all these pet peeves God dammit to hell I can't stand all these kids with their camera cellphones I can't go anywhere, I get so mad I can yell, the Other day someone got little elaborate And stuck a fucking dead cat in my mailbox Went to Burger King, they spit on my onion rings I think my karma is catching up with me Maybe that's why I feel so strange Got it all, but I still won't change Maybe that's why I can't leave Detroit It's the motivation that keeps me going This is the inspiration I need I can never turn my back on a city that made me (Life's been good to me so far) Got friends on Facebook, all over the world Not sure what that means, they tell me it's good So I'm artist of the decade, I even got a plaque I'd hang it up, but the frame is all cracked I'm trying to be lowkey, hopefully nobody notices me In produce hunched over, giant nosebleed Over stop as I mosey over to the frozen aisle By the frozen yogurt this guy approached me Embarrassed, I just did Comerica with Hova Show's over, I'm hiding in Kroeger buying groceries He just had front row seats, told me to sign this poster Then insults me "wow, up close didn't know you had crow's feet" I'm at a crossroad lost till shopping at Costco Sloppy Joe's, buck waffles Got caught picking my nose, ah Look over see these two hot hoes Finger still up in one of my nostrils Right next to 'em stuck at the light This fucking shit is taking forever to change I'm stuck, these bitches are loving it rubbing it in Chuckling, couldn't do nothing, play it off "What you bumping? Trunk Muzik? Yelawolf's better", fucking bitch They want me to flip at the label, but I won't succumb to it The pressure They want me to follow up with another one after Recovery Was so highly coveted But what good is a fucking recovery if I fumble it? 'Cause I'mma drop the ball if I don't get a grip Hopping on shrubbery on you sons of bitches Wrong subdivison to fuck with, bitch Quit snapping fucking pictures of my kids I love my city, but you push me to my limit, what a pity The shit I complain about It's like there ain't a cloud in the sky and it's raining out Kool Aid stain on the couch, I'd never get it out Bitch, I got an elevator in my house Ants and a mouse, I'm living the dream Maybe that's why I feel so strange Got it all, but I still won't change Maybe that's why I can't leave Detroit It's the motivation that keeps me going This is the inspiration I need I can never turn my back on a city that made me (Life's been good to me so far)