Lyrical Breakdown of Crack Spot - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Crack Spot" 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 "Crack Spot" 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 "Crack Spot" 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!

Henny bottles everywhere, smelling like 'yac

Bagging crack, sitting in the kitchen, wearing my mask

Robe on, tailored made in Italy, new Gucci denim

One slipper on, Brookstone, cushion

In the barn, number seven, hugging my neck, yo, Kiss, yo, Rae

Tell that yellow bitch I got next

She fucking with robbers, don't wanna hear

Her pussy sore like Tasha's, this is Starkers

Crumbs hitting the floor, fiends clicking they big lighters

With Garfield eyeballs, pulling them all nighters

Give me fifty push ups, give ya'll a little piece

Faggots did a dime, niggas too weak

For fun, shove a Suzy Q in they face

Let 'em smoke a rock with cake on they head in the gate

He might die with a stem on him

Who give a fuck, I'm the reigns, hate on him

Crack spot stories, he put a kilo in the pan

I was about to break his hand until it came back tan

He dancing around the stove, Starks chilling in his rob

My hard knock life, I could of wrote that for Hov'

Shorty, give me a ginger ale and dutch masters

Matter fact, hand me the phone I'm bout to order Casper's

Fiends at the door, I'm too lazy to let 'em in

Turkey sandwich, barbecue chips, ESPN

Sitting on the couch, I'm just trynna do the match

She got ten polo shirts, all she asking for is half

Today was a good day, no one got shot

No police or none of that, that's how it is in our spot, yeah

Pyrex boys fronting in Rolls Royce's

I'm on the iPhone, leg back, examining choices

Two types of coke, we in the bathroom, voting

We like 'take it', helicopter waiting, we boating, yo

Gangstas to the death of it, humbling villains

A good hand chemist in twenty minutes, cake up and finish

This for the hallways, the long days, me and my whore, bagging up

Shorty more razors and bring out the four aces

Sit back, laughing with a stack and a clapper

She spray up everything, we paying Pataki

Drug house with no work there, the worst fear is never the thirst, yea

But set up for to the first of the thirty first, disperse, yeah

Beef, what, bring me a burger, ya

The flame broilers jump out, one to your first beer

So take that, over there

Everything, everything, just stay out of max clear

We got the trays up in 6E, that's usually where the God be

Me, Kay and J-Bop, Cali J, and Rod Lee

Bread clocking, all night, the heads knocking

No feds, just Kevin Tie or west watching

Bagging up at the table, while we chit chat

Past the Phillie, wash your hands 'fore you hit that

Young niggas getting it, everybody G'd up

Other niggas only made sales when we re'd up

Motorola flip, burn out in the beeper

White Katie and Rhonda, Stacey and Shaniqua

Yeah, cocaine, weed and forties

That's when I was a shorty, crack spot stories

To Allah be the glory