Lyrical Breakdown of Fake Names - Instrumental - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

  • Lyric Overview: Witness how Freddie Gibbs & Madlib weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Fake Names - Instrumental" 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 & Madlib 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 & Madlib's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Fake Names - Instrumental" not only celebrates Freddie Gibbs & Madlib'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!

Uh

Yeah, yeah

Yeah-yeah

Mic check check check

Uh, yeah, yeah, uh

Survival of the fittest, my nigga (check, check, check)

I need a check, check, check

Bitch, uh, yeah, uh

Shit's so real, gotta use fake names

Every time I sleep, dead faces, they occupy my brain (my brain)

Erica said I never changed (never changed)

Lifestyles of the insane

You was like a brother to me, no other to me

Swear I would trade my life for yours, I knew you was fucking with me

Found out some niggas fucked your wife and we put them bitches to sleep

Ain't going to say your government, I'ma call him by Ricky G

Now Ricky G, he had a cousin named Yella with bricks of yola

Had a Mexican that came 'cross the border to Arizona

They was getting shit for 17

Tossin' shit to me for 28

Bitch go for 31, I barely ate

Seen them niggas frown when I started breaking that shit down

Said I need more time with them chickens, I'm out here making rounds

Jealous niggas want they 28 up front now

I bought all the damn clientele, we could have ran the town

But fuck it, you cut the price, then I fly to Phoenix

Said if you ain't copping like 20, then, cocksucker, beat it

They put Yella Boy on the evening news

Devil on my shoulder said, "Fuck friends 'cause cash rules"

Shit's so real, gotta use fake names

Every time I sleep, dead faces, they occupy my brain, uh

Christina said I never changed (never changed)

Lifestyles of the insane

I done walked through hell in these size 12's

Speak it from my own mouth before I let the time tell

Dream team legal, I never take an L

Courtroom, funeral fresh, Givenchy my lapel

Pouring up, foreigned up, three bricks, I'm a hundred up

Jack a pussy, blow his pack, that's how you fuck the summer up

Fuck it up, bottled up, your hoes fuck for followers

Vanessas, Carries, tiger lilies, bitch, I'm super modeled up

Well pimp that

My hoes twist it fat, she roll ten Backwoods out the zip, yeah

Pasadena Rena, came to Vegas, it was lit, yeah

Crystal Lynn came all the way to Denver for the dick, yeah

Had to cancel my Miami trip, that bitch was sick, yeah

Put me on, always put me on

Then labor 16 hours, need to put me on

Drop a zone, dope ain't locking up, this shit done took too long

Shout out to BO and Charlie Mack, man, bring them niggas home

Most my dawgs got life in jail from conversations on the phone

I bought my first mansion, told my mama, "Leave that dope alone"

Forget that, used to get ten bricks Dominicano off the lip, yeah

Put that on my nephew Luciano, we the shit, yeah (Lucci)

Bitch, I put your pussy in the mail, I need to see it, yeah

Abby used to follow me on tour, that shit was lit, yeah

"Put me on, Freddie, put me on" (she was like)

"Put me on, Otis, put me on" (yeah)

I used to love that bitch though

Yeah, Kane

Yeah, yeah, remain

Yeah, yeah, put me on, put me on

Put me on, Lambo, put me on

Put me on, Egon, put me on, uh, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah

Hahaha, hello

All my niggas, man, they ready

It is time once again for that motherfucker

Madlib the Beat Konducta, straight from California

So light the motherfucking weed up, bitch

Turn the sound up, let us go

And as usual, no fuck boys

Real niggas only (Kane baby)