Lyrical Breakdown of Death Row - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Death Row" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Freddie Gibbs weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Death Row" 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 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's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Death Row" not only celebrates Freddie Gibbs'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, Kane season
Twinkle on the beat, yeah
Twinkle on the beat, yeah
Whoa Kenny
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Smoking with a package then the package get you fucked off
When they sent the po-po to my door but y'all was ducked off
Fuckin' up a plate of sushi wontons with the duck sauce
Sent the pack of doggy to me, walkin' fuckin' buff soft
Pick your phone up, I just touched down with the bow wow
Pick your phone up, I just touched down with the puppy chow
Puttin' zones up, got a brick
I'm 'bout to bust it down, pick your phone up
Bet that rat ho wanna fuck me now, fuck me now
Busy button down, bust it down
Fuck the month, throw some hundreds down
Hundred pack, 50 pack, shippin' 20-piece
Chicken bucket, chicken nugget, bitch, I feed the streets
Chopper block, mix that dope up with that Fetty Wap (1738)
Watch it drop, bitch I started sellin' ready rock, fuck a pot
You don't make a G a day you can't sit in the spot
Ho keep lookin' at me, you gon' suck this dick or not?
Take a bag, bust a lick, and run a check ho, a check ho
Bet them VV's in my neck glow
I just might go throw a Rollie on my next ho
Beat the pussy in the studio like Death Row, Death Row
Chopper give a nigga Death Row, Death Row
Fuck a rookie, need a vet ho
I just might go throw a Rollie on my next ho
Hundred kilos in my trunk, I might get Death Row
Cruisin' through the city in my oh-eighteen (skrrt)
Sendin' the bitches, servin' the fiends (ooh)
Ridin' through the street, just caught a lick (yeah)
Take that flip and I caught my first brick (ayy)
I'm a Baby Loc cri-ni-nip, role model ni-ni-nip
I ain't got the swag and got the sauce, I got the dri-ni-nip
I can do a feature, do a show, and hit the dealership
Ask Channel 7, people say I'm really dealin' shit
Brrrt my ad-lib, Drummer Gang, we generous
We gon' give your ass the blues 'cause we ain't never givin' shit
Everybody generals 'cause everybody militant
Drummer Gang the Army, the Navy, we killin' shit, ooh
Take a bag, bust a lick, and run a check ho, a check ho
Bet them VV's in my neck glow
I just might go throw a Rollie on my next ho
Beat the pussy in the studio like Death Row, Death Row
Chopper give a nigga Death Row, Death Row
Fuck a rookie, need a vet ho
I just might go throw a Rollie on my next ho
Hundred kilos in my trunk, I might get Death Row