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 undefined 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Fake Names - Instrumental" not only celebrates undefined'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)