Lyrical Breakdown of Baby $hit - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

  • Lyric Overview: Witness how Freddie Gibbs feat. The Alchemist weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Baby $hit" 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 Freddie Gibbs feat. The Alchemist 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 Freddie Gibbs feat. The Alchemist's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Baby $hit" not only celebrates Freddie Gibbs feat. The Alchemist'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!

The world is uncivilized, and these are our works

Champ (What's up? What's up?)

James Brown, nicotine (Yo, yo)

Cocaine (Okay, there we go, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Ayy, man, don't never fuck with a nigga that—

That don't get girls (Yeah, yeah)

The nigga always gon' be jealous of you (Yeah)

I swear to God, on my mama, nigga

Yeah, yeah

Yeah, ain't nobody ever gave me shit,

I had to take this shit, go get your paper, bitch

Rappin', potty trainin' every mornin',

Ho, I'm cookin' dope and cleanin' baby shit

Versace robe drapin' like a nigga

Got a cape, but I can never save a bitch

Fuckin' ball player baby mamas hit me

When them niggas play the Lakers, bitch

We don't do no postin' or no name taggin'

California blow, she got a 'caine habit

I don't want the pussy if the gang had it

Was a ho before she got the same habit

Hold on, do no postin' or no name taggin'

Dope and cocaina got my name brackin'

I don't sell a whip, I let the gang have it

Got a pocket full of dead slave masters (Yeah)

Get that white and I beat it up like I'm Mike

Drop a broke man, a nigga can't be like Mike

Share the dick, man, a bitch gotta sacrifice

Diamonds in my shit look like some flashin' lights

Presidential, I flooded that bitch with ice

Cougar pussy, I fuck a rich nigga wife

Doja Cat let me hit from the byke, byke

Porsche engine, that bitch in the byke, byke

Louie luggage, that sit in the front trunk

Uncle threw Forgiato on Dodge trucks

Throw VL out the window, I'm mobbed up

Hit that proper until that bitch locked up

Dinner plate, my shit porcelain, rocked up

R.I.P Robert Davis, we chopped up

Screw a bitch in the drop with the top up (With the top up)

Yeah, ain't nobody ever gave me shit, I had to take this shit

Go get your paper, bitch

Flew a ho like 20 hours just to have a

Threesome with my new Australian bitch

Versace robe drapin' like a nigga

Got a cape, but I can never save a bitch

Everyday I get an internet threat, boy, these niggas soft as baby shit

Give them 36's to my side piece

40 millimeter on the timepiece

Take a ho to brunch and get mimosa drunk

She give me sloppy toppy on massage seats

Keep them yucky bitches from around me

Feel like Usher, ho, 'cause you remind me

Of a bitch I used to fuck with when I was

Broke but now my 750 got massage seats, uh

Get that white and I beat it up, like I'm Mike

Drop a broke man, a nigga can't be like Mike

Share the dick, man, a bitch gotta sacrifice

Diamonds in my shit look like some flashin' lights

Presidential, I flooded that bitch with ice

Cougar pussy, I fuck a rich nigga wife

Doja Cat let me hit from the byke, byke

I'll be right back

Yeah, ain't nobody ever gave me shit, I had to take this shit

Go get your paper, bitch

Rappin', potty trainin' every mornin', ho

I'm cookin' dope, be cleanin' baby shit

Versace robe drapin' like a nigga

Got a cape, but I can never save a bitch

The streets is tryna judge a niggas music

Tell the pussy niggas suck a baby dick, bitch

Yeah, yeah yeah

(Nothin' else to say, bitch, gang)

(Yeah, yeah)

You know why I love to sell a ton of drugs in Harlem, Bumpy?

It's not 'cause of the money, why?

'Cause every miserable street junkie

Every skinny who goes to bed hungry

Because his momma is workin' for a fix

Every nigga baby born with a "habit"

Makes me happy, makes my heart sing