Lyrical Breakdown of Clipse of Doom - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Clipse of Doom" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Ghostface Killah weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Clipse of Doom" 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 Ghostface Killah 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 Ghostface Killah's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Clipse of Doom" not only celebrates Ghostface Killah'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!

Aiyyo, turn those lights down while I'm recording! Matter 'fact y'all niggaz get the fuck out the room, G! Straight up! Sipping on that bullshit Budweiser! Nah'mean yo. what? Fuck you too nigga! 'Kind of pants you got on motherfucker, Capris?! Bitch ass nigga, go get ya feet done! Eat a dick nigga! Catch me in the 80's drop Old school Mercedes with a brand new baby glock Right from my Lady's sock with two bodies on it Capricorn, Aquarius Lost so much blood, these bitch niggaz in they periods They say I be living the role, like 'Pac in Juice And only fuck with fly bitches that get fly and boost And they ears be chandelliers, lit up like a lamp, Who cares?! They cooch is fierce, the only thing loose is hairs Thats right y'all, if a rap nigga say my name I'm a fight y'all Fuck a state, light charge My predicate status, irrelevant My man got the big rap sheet that's outweighing two elephants Jumbo shits from New Orleans Players and Pimps that bit off Fiends Quick, switch with the hands, Powder blue wally's is dyed, Vanilla bally's is mean Kid, none of y'all motherfuckers fuck with my team, Uh! Aiyyo we the live niggaz holdin heat on the street corners Sic the beasts on you, turning mothers to morners Money launderers, neighborhood coroners, place bodies in bags Tango with dirty Cash, Cocaine jacks "Kings of the Hill", out to blow like propane gas Package the raw, Theodore, We got the game on smash 'Cause we cut from the same cloth Big guns ready to bang off Slide off the cables and take the rings off! We hold the weight of four Synagogues Jelly'd uptown in them beat down rented cars Going mad wetting 'em Milk cash, heavy tecks, hood rats, sexin 'em Paris crew, little dudes, please!, I was reppin 'em Niggaz couldn't come through (word) Thats when the block was like wallpaper, loved sticking niggaz like crazy glue Blackouts happened, God forbid don't be around! The Bag Lady will murk you and let off in the next town! She struck two times, get caught, good luck blood, it ain't no heines Blow a hockey puck hole in the back of your spine She put two cut up mirrors in the place of your eyes So when the cops look they see theyselves, they all gonna die Its the tale of the crips and bloods, pimps and thugs Get your face bashed in on the concrete rug On that note I'm a say peace! Theodore! Word to Darryl Mack's teeth! Yo, Ayo I'll break every bone in your wrist Smack you in the back of your head on the block while you holding your dick My semi, they call it the crouching tiger A hundred bowls of Total is trash, because my lead eat through fibers Peel your potato like Arriada On the day of your death people had candles but couldnt find no lighter Fuck your marrow! fuck your hood! You ain't a street legend like me! Blake Carrington holding the Dynasty I muffle motherfuckers up like meineke And write a thousand bar verse that all rhymes with "eat" Jewel theif, Shizzam bangles, in the vault deep And cruisin desserts mad heavy into salt treats Im the taste in Bush's mouth, nasty Afghanistan missions, gun training in the grassy fatigues Picking niggaz off by the Red Sea And did it all for Ghost, sniffin on caffeine!