Lyrical Breakdown of Ensalada - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Ensalada" 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 "Ensalada" 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 "Ensalada" 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!

Check, uh Right, uh It's a lotta, uh It's a lotta, uh It's a lotta, it's a lotta It's a lotta cold nights, hunger pains in this bitch Water whippin' on some 'caine in this bitch Robbin' when ain't shit to slang in this bitch It's a lotta, it's a lotta cold tears, hard times in this bitch Murder can't stay off my mind in this bitch Ain't no love, she don't reside in this bitch Wakin' up to cold sweats, I'm soakin' wet Ain't got the stomach or the mind for this shit You ever had to work the dope line, see your homie mom stand in the line for this shit? It's a lotta, it's a lotta choppas, lotta dirty guns in this bitch It's all fun and games 'til a nigga need to bail out and ain't got the funds in this bitch Fuck-ass nigga, only comin' 'round me when you're down on your luck-ass nigga Ask who the fuck I trust? Bitch, I trust me, I could never trust nan' nigga Poppin' in another clip and if they catch me slippin', least I never ducked nan' nigga Ask who the fuck I trust? Bitch, I trust me, I could never trust nan' nigga Get the switches, got the bitches mixin' up the fent' and dirtied up the dishes Customary, obituary, put your ass inside a homicide edition Suck me in the drop on 26's, fuck a phone or video, some bitches Ask who the fuck I trust? Bitch, I trust me, I could never trust these bitches, yeah Help me get away from this godforsaken place I'm in (ooh, yeah-yeah) You should run away if you ain't really ready for the way I live (ooh, yeah-yeah) It makes my heart break when I see gangstas turn to angels (ooh, yeah-yeah) Yet, I'm still grateful, and I would never ever want to trade it (ooh, yeah-yeah) It's a lotta, it's a lotta niggas I would probably love to take in (ooh, yeah-yeah) It's a lotta, it's a lotta bitches, but, I wanna see my babies (ooh, yeah-yeah) Help me get away from this godforsaken place I'm in (ooh, yeah-yeah) No flatter, pay the driver to go the opposite way to Vegas (ooh, yeah-yeah) Shit is scary, obituary, put your ass inside a homicide edition Dippin' in a dunk on 26's, mixin' up the fent', we dirtied up the dishes It's a lot of, it's a lot of stab wounds, scars, stitches on my body Niggas wanna take the spirit out my body, took the hit, but I ain't snitchin' on nobody Fuck-ass nigga, I done whipped across the map to get a nigga whacked I crossed a couple time zones Diary confessions of a killer, I see dead faces with my eyes closed Feel like niggas never really met a plug, all imaginary Pablos Diary confessions of a killer, I see dead faces with my eyes closed It's a lot of fuck niggas false-flaggin' on the gang, steady duckin' calls Hope them niggas changed, on the 'Gram, cloutin' off a nigga's name It's a lotta, it's a lotta, said it's a lot of niggas fightin' versus one of me Before I run off, they gon' have to murder me I reminisce on what this shit did done to me A lotta white sheet, yellow tape dreams When your life a nightmare, you can't dream So instead of runnin', tryna chase dreams, I was makin' sure the safe clean It's a lotta, niggas on the state team Givin' white sheet, yellow tape dreams Tie a nigga up, 'cause I don't chase dreams I was makin' sure the safe clean, it's a lot Help me get away from this godforsaken place I'm in (ooh, yeah-yeah) You should run away if you ain't really ready for the way I live (ooh, yeah-yeah) It makes my heart break when I see gangstas turn to angels (ooh, yeah-yeah) Yet, I'm still grateful, and I would never ever want to trade it (ooh, yeah-yeah) It's a lotta, it's a lotta niggas I would probably love to take in (ooh, yeah-yeah) It's a lotta, it's a lotta bitches, but, I wanna see my babies (ooh, yeah-yeah) Help me get away from this godforsaken place I'm in (ooh, yeah-yeah) No flatter, pay the driver to go the opposite way to Vegas (ooh, yeah-yeah)