Lyrical Breakdown of Stroke of Death - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Stroke of Death" 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 "Stroke of Death" 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 "Stroke of Death" 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!

Yeah, Soloman marked for life, a million to life Thug for life, forever eyein' the kid '89 stick-up kid, King of New York Regulation party, daddy hard body Rowdy Brighton God-body Smooth like a leather bop, '83 hip-hop Top of the world, get it rizzight big to your wizzife Murder cats for the right prizzice Four-hundred and fifty-six on the dizzice This is real lizzife, ain't nothin' sweet God Sit down and think it through God, God 'Cuz comin' all outta ya face'll get ya clap, God You are now listening to the sounds of Supreme Clientele Step in to the party, it's me God Almighty, Ghost still holdin' that shotty Dustin Alize', three-quarter Timbs, Terry-cloth robes Crisp hundreds in the envelope, duke it on the globe Thank God for my Wallabee shoes, they done saved me Up three-nothin' and Salt Lake City Burgundy minks, whips with sinks in 'em Brocolli blown, illa disease breath, elephant skin Meet the black Boy George, dusted on my honeymoon Bitch like my wife, she popped my Ghostface balloon Bitches think that I'm Dominican, slap-hash Indian Milk on my mustache, drop to my chiny-chin Dive into dangerous parts, buildin' with thirsty mammals White man scream, "Swim Starks sharks" Smack the girl, bailbonds man stripped of eighteen bronz man Tall like Carl Malone "Mailman", framed on Larry Johnson Tony Montana blow, creamy white Havana Joe's Old Suzanna hoe, pussy sweet, banana flow David Banner, gamma ray shots, beast will marinate Bones splitted fatal Wu swords, sour amputate Duck Savanna wait, we splashed the glass, ice rocks Our cash high right stock, our logo's on your rice box Plus your dice box, on the side upon your white socks Bobby got the mic cocked, buck, buck, nice shot