Lyrical Breakdown of Saturday Nite - US Album Edit - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Saturday Nite - US Album Edit" 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 "Saturday Nite - US Album Edit" 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 "Saturday Nite - US Album Edit" 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!

[Ghostface] Yo. Saturday night, Uptown Ridin past Kansas Fried Chicken What's poppin kid? We in the mix It's chilly 40 below Gate's closed gotta catch Dr. J's Blowin my hand, rub on my nose Tap the glass, stop frontin Duke, fresh pair of jeans Look I got loot, eleven in the Bass boots Heard a screech pull up, these Jakes flashed me 5 pictures One had my man's mug, Semi stepped brother hugs You asked the wrong guy son I'm from Melina, yeah we know Mr. Coles Flew in two days ago to see his fam' But we been watchin you, crazily The whole Staten Island shittin on you Wisdom Bird's pregnant out in Baisley Hold up snow in your ear, fresh baldie tried to change up Not trunk today, still lookin fly, still slammed up hung Your mom pop in your trunk, slow your pace Starks fixed your face, copped out the 6, five years probat' You dealin with a lot of science, motherfucker we're watchin you Make me wanna lick shots at you You disgust me, screwin me down, grab my gun Go 'head bust me, heard you hate Jake that's what it must be Hands behind your back, spread your legs Just found a roach in your tray It's not mine fucker, what I said You met the 13th nigga A multimillion dollar operation is based upon it yo Where in the Hell's the RZA? He's sellin mics, wildest joints Special made to go up in your hand and which went out on point Switched to the next scene, I'm at the crib buggin out On how po' live, hatin plus harassin the kid Park the truck in the double face garage Dial 1-900-Raekwon, tell the God shit's mega Reel flashin me on BET, Planet Groove, Rap City News NAACP committees. {*abruptly ends*}