Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Frank Lucas (feat. Benny the Butcher)" 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 "Frank Lucas (feat. Benny the Butcher)" 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 "Frank Lucas (feat. Benny the Butcher)" 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!
Might just spill over on you
Okay, I'm trying baby
Nigga, my name is cocaine
Yeah, uh, uh
You niggas snitchin' gettin' time shaved
Sold the book on my boost mobile, I boost the crime rate
Tellin' all my hoes that I love 'em, I'm playin' mind games
And bitches after your last dollar, they take your last name
I'm married to this shit
I jumped off the porch then I jumped the room
Bunny Rabbit gang, we be robbin' shit like like the Romper Room
Catch your Uber or lyzift, I sent the rezith
The feds wanna turn the witness, I plead the fizith
Been smokin' since 13, I fried my brain, so I ain't never stressin'
I can't hold no grudges, Michael Thomas, bitch, I'm catchin' blessings
Police tryna catch me, ain't gon' catch me ridin' without my weapon
Panoramic roof off of on that coupe
I look like George Jetson Space Ghost
Fentanyl, got a gas mask when I make dope
I done seen a lot of OG's at this table havin' you taste dope
I just got another case though, call me lawyer, hit him with the pesos
Gotta cook a bird where the J's stay, got a play play for the yayo
Been thuggin' since a youngin', I'm too legit to quit
I keep this bitch in like my kinship, bustin' shots at the bitch
I had the strap, she took the charge, I took that bitch on the trip
Flew in her friends, jumped on the boat, I fucked them both
Shit was lit, shit was lit
Pray my soul keep dead low or lay me down
The SWAT team might machine gun or grenade me down
And if they do tear my people, just hold my babies down
Nigga we need to go back the pages like it's the '80s now
Yeah, fuck rap, bitch, I'm poppin' off of poppy seed
My name cocaine ain't got put me in the nominees
Since gangsta gears rolled back the bars, I see a lot of me
Niggas is my sons, I wish they mommas would have swallowed these
Nigga, cappin' ass nigga
Jeezy used to say, "Boy, you one rappin' ass nigga"
I said I'm shippin' packs, I don't need no advance, nigga
Niggas thought I took a loss, but I jumped off
And I got richer, shit is funny when you think about it
Rolex too big, I took a link up out it
Frank Lucas I hit the closet, pulled the mink up out it
Livin' this life, pussy dream about it, nigga
Bury me with ratchets, let the feds tell it, apparently a magnum
Gucci hoodie smell like kerosene and ashes
Don't get carried away, I been up and look how carefully I stack it
Got your advance check buried in the mattress
We the Yankees on the pennant run
You in need of soldiers, heard you rented some
Tellin' war stories and you ain't been in none
But look what I converted to from
Lettin' burners loose out convertibles
My bitch gon' be the driver for a purse or two
Nah, my finger never gon' point
You know pussy best when it's moist
Got a hammer and a brick from a plug I met in a joint
Miami, Superbowl weekend, I got head in a Royce
We chasin' cheddar of course, I wouldn't care if it's Deutsch
It was either law school or dog food
If I was makin' y'all moves, we all lose
Make these sucker niggas pay, those was our rules
You gon' need more guns and lucky horse shoes
I never took an L, but a few loss to mind
New loft downtown and this view was hard to find
Sold lines to abusers, now I'ma abuse y'all with lines
I'm in this black thing, he ain't just a few cars behind
I bought two of everything, they said, "Dude lost his mind"
Two gold Cubans, like I'm tryin' too hard to shine
Two whips, one a coupe that's too small to drive
Two-car garage, two broad massage, yeah
Niggas think I be frontin'
But I just be talkin' that real shit
I don't expect anybody to feel it though
'Cause y'all niggas not like that
(Nobody talk that shit like I talk that shit nigga, let's go)
With this .9 I got from the district, I'm shoppin' for Christian
I'm in Vegas drippin' in jewelry I got from the district
They say hustlin' like a disease, I'ma die with the symptoms
Put 300 grams on a brick, cut the pie into sixes
The Butcher comin', nigga