Lyrical Breakdown of Stylin - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Stylin" not only celebrates Foxy Brown'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!

(-intro-) Fever baby Ok, alright Brooklyn, Uh-oh uh-oh Yeah uh huh Bitches throw ya drinks up, style when we be comin' in Niggas throw ya guns up, whyle when we be runnin in And all that ain't nothin, we at the bar frontin Its necessary, we stays in burburry (whooooo) (-verse 1-) You know how it go, fox and gav In a navy blue rov, stuttin in halo On the i-95, keepin it live In the hood, in the 5, front of kennedy fried (whooooo) Then slide off with a nba jump-off Or a nice lil' rapper, whoever money stack up Duke, cop a little h-tod shoe And them little boxer dudes, get a watch or two (whoa) It aint greed, yall got kids to feed Fuck it, all he wanna do is kill it and leave So, lay low and throw the pussy like the free throw Brooklyn broad and bet I keep the heat low (-hook-) Its necessary, we styles in burburry And our walk is mean in them frankie b. jeans bwoy Its necessary, we stays in burburry And a mark jacob bag and a h-tod shoe (whoo) (2x) (-verse 2-) When we walk up in the club, niggas be like, "oh!" They aint got no dough? bet we be like, "no!" We bout our paper and all that fam Rollin through planet hollywood knockin that killa cam (whoa) Up in v.i.p. with f.b. With a nice throw back, right below a good g Now, dude is ill, I'm lovin his boys I'm all, seing he's gangsta, I'm watching him swift now They wanna see us, bitches they wanna be us Fox and althea in a powder blue two seater We the truth in our juicy sweat suits When we come through ya town, every'ting shut down (-hook 2x-) (-verse 3-) 20's with the rims, b-custom kitted bently And everything we do, they assist like jamaal tinsley Cocky bastard, I only spits acid Slept on broken silence, fever bout to smash it This here's a classic, we keeps it drastic I'm all engaged engaged to dough and married to plastic And you know how we do, fresh pair air force 2's With the toaster, kobe pull over (whoo) (-hook 2x-)