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)