Lyrical Breakdown of Slammin - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Slammin" 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 "Slammin" 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 "Slammin" 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!
Can you picture a nigga out here clocking cash and
Pulling stick ups, I guess I had to Glock and mask it
Nine zippers, let's bust that open, cut and bag it
Water whipper, I'm in the kitchen Str8 Slammin'
Thug niggas, and drug dealers, that's all I hang with
Puffing Swishers, and fucking hoes, we on the same shit
In the kitchen, gon' whip my weight up to a mansion
Eight figures, that's what I call Str8 Slammin
G.I. thuggin
Yes picture this Midwest nigga rollin
Hardrock hustling
Bitches stick to the dick cause you know a nigga holding
Living on some pimp shit
I'm a let y'all chase hoes, I'm a get chosen
Keep a bitch dick whipped
Got a whole lotta broads that'll bust that open
Fresh up off a straight dope stain
I know my clothes still smell like cocaine
The real niggas understand
I ain't trying to be the man
If you put it in my hands, it'll go mayne
I keep a whole thing or better pushed to the side
Got like 32 bells of bubba kush in the ride
If you wanna get high, all drugs I provide
Getting my thug on where I preside
Nigga been bust at, still I survive
Push packs and I live to tell it in my raps
Lost a couple homies, I can never get em back
Life got me stressed, so I'm twisting up a sack
I'm street certified, nigga - check my stats
Back up to the wall cause I'm coming up to bat
And these little niggas said they got racks on racks
So the stick up man had to put the tax on the tax
Got damn
Fuck what I'm worth
Still out here on the grind
Trying to stack racks
Racks on racks, never caught slipping
Nigga get wrong, it's a toe tag
Fucks with the hood
Still eat good
Hanging with the killers with the black masks
They will kidnap your wife and kids
You niggas don't want that
Do what we gotta do to make it
Hope them jackers won't take it
If a nigga violate me I heard my young nigga's gon erase em
I don't fight over no bitches but I kill for bread
And I don't hang out with no niggas that sleep with Feds
Ride down on your block with that chopper, let that bitch go
If you try to open shop up, that shit closed
Money and the power
What we hustle for?
We already run ya house, ain't no kicking doors