Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Stay True (feat. 60 Second Assassin)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Stay True (feat. 60 Second Assassin)" 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Stay True (feat. 60 Second Assassin)" not only celebrates undefined'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 Killah]
Oh yeah, motherfucker
It's real
Y'all niggas hold your guns
Throw your guns down, put 'em down
Yo, we in the fields with heat
You fake niggas eat kid meals to meat
We street referees, we rock
Jean jackets, thick shirts over turtlenecks
Certified doctors in hoods'll steal all your techs
But wait, roll cameras, Babyface money blowin like beach nut
Call off the mutts, it's me again
Ghost, your host this evenin
(Ladies and gents I'd like to thank you all for comin out tonite)
Tucks tight, all sharp, light up a bark, let's mingle
Fetch me a Remy Martin on Diamonds
Flair-laided Gucci joints, I never wore
I might give 'em to my brother-in-law
Fitzpatrick, ribs battered, worth more than Egyptian marrows
Borrow the God jewels, Gucci goggles
That's how the God do, Motown twenty-five
My office like Smokey's voice, little moist, but choice
We guzzle Dom's, smoke the scratchy throats
Live on the edge, bracelets, shades and classy coats
Jungle in the club, we play Colombo
Frost eat a snowman, frozen as the milky way
Ice on the floor, El-Producto in the sleeve
In the seam of his mink, he said "Don't drink"
Think before he talked, he walked like he ordered
Champ room down in Vegas, vendin machines
I sip Alize' compliments of E&J
[Chorus: 60 Second Assassin *singing* (Ghostface) x2]
The streets is rough out here
Crack game came and had us years
What is a man to do? (Brother)
(Stay true, stay true)