Lyrical Breakdown of Gat Damn - Instrumental - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Gat Damn - 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 "Gat Damn - 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 "Gat Damn - 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!

Yeah, pour some liquor, yeah, yeah, yeah

Free my niggas, yeah, yeah, yeah

Pour some liquor, yeah, yeah, yeah

(This shit, nigga, for real though), yeah

Man, I miss my nigga Greg, pour some liquor, yeah, yeah

I got homies in the feds, free my niggas, yeah, yeah

I just wrapped a hundred cash, zipped it in the air, yeah

I'ma go fuck up a bag, know that ho can't stand that

Yeah, I got shooters but I'm duckin' shooters

Pop 'em up, they hit the homie sister, guess we both the loser

Po-po pull me over with a half a kilo and a Ruger

I can't move the same, I gotta readjust how I maneuver

I reminisce that feeling when I think about it

A million in the bank, I used to dream about it

No heat up in the whip, I used to sleep up out it

Up in the morning whippin' cocaina 'bout it, yeah, yeah

I got bags, ho, is you fuckin' with me? Yeah, yeah

Time to blast, ho, is you fuckin' with me? Yeah, yeah

Let that yayo dry on the table, droppin' fat slabs

Porsche Spyder look like a spaceship, they like, "Goddamn"

Ah, goddamn, I'm callin' Lam'

MoneyGram, go send the bail, I'm in a jam

In the jail, I'm in the cell, can't see the fam

Say my prayers, alhamdulillah, no bacon ham

Bacon ham, and cold salami, that's all they serve us

Stomach hurtin', the devil working, but I ain't nervous

Beat the verdict, but lost a milli', guess life ain't perfect

Whippin' birdies, the devil working, but I ain't nervous

I reminisce that feeling when I think about it

A million in the bank, I used to dream about it

No heat up in the whip, I used to sleep up out it

I take the pot and whip a Cuban link up out it, yeah, yeah

I got bags, ho, is you fuckin' with me? Yeah, yeah

We can blast, ho, is you fuckin' with me? Yeah, yeah

Let that yayo dry on the table, droppin' fat slabs

Porsche Spyder look like a spaceship, they like, "Goddamn"

Yeah, pour some liquor, yeah, yeah, yeah

Free my niggas, yeah, yeah, yeah

Pour some liquor, yeah, yeah, yeah

Free my niggas, yeah, yeah, yeah

See, man, free that nigga, yeah, yeah

Hot dog, uh

Free my nigga, yeah, yeah

I know how it be, man

You know, pent down in that motherfucker, yeah

I remember I was on, on bail and shit, you know what I'm sayin'?

This, this, damn, the beat ran out

Fuck it, that's enough right there

Fuck it, I ain't even gotta talk no shit