Lyrical Breakdown of Home - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Home" 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 "Home" 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 "Home" 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!
Uh, Lebron number nine
I guess whenever she ain't on this dick, I'm on her mind
It's quite cliche to just say that I'm on my grind
And phone conversations ain't substitution for time in another city
Reminisce on days when I ain't have a fucking penny
These groupie bitches in this game wasn't fucking with me
Couldn't get a dollar for a rap show
Got a gun, a ski mask and a half an ounce of crack, though
Slammin', in the pizza shop with Jacque
Last dollar on a slice, this contraband in my sock, wish you knew the feeling
We're both so different, but our situations so appealing
Now I can't make it without you girl, you my new religion
And every hustler need a main thing
Baby, once I get it I'mma make your last name change
Uh, said every hustler needs a main thing
Baby, once I get it I'mma make your last name change
Gibbs, uh
We still socking
Glock is still popping
Paper still dropping
Lord, it ain't stopping
Girl, I'm coming home, as soon as I get this paper
Yeah, the blocks still cracking, and girl, know what I'm packing
And if you pop off, you gon' know what I'm jacking
But I'm coming home, as soon as I get this paper
Ayo, summertime, 105
Getting mine, the smoke line
They want the Kush, the Cali kind
I smoke wit' her, I choke wit' it, get dosed wit' her
A go-getter, helped me come up from a broke nigga
The home team
And she ain't just in my pocket, she got her own cream
Sometimes I slip at the mouth, I might say the wrong thing
And once we fight, it's back to fucking
My polos and my Timbos out the window, but its nothin', what
Uh, said once we fight, it's back to fucking
I bend that ass right over on the sofa, like it's nothing
So bust it open for a player, nose to your fucking toes
I'm coming home, don't be tripping on them other hoes