Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Labels" 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 "Labels" 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 "Labels" 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!
Lot of people, you know what I'm saying
That be getting misinformed, thinking everything is everything
You could just get yourself a little deal, whatever
You know what I'm saying
You gonna get on, you gonna get rich
And all these labels be trying to lure us in like spiders
Into the web, you know what I'm saying
So sometimes people gotta come out and speak up
And let people understand
That you know you gotta read the label
You gotta read the label
If you don't read the Label you might get poisoned
Bomb these niggas God!
Tommy ain't my motherfuckin' boy
When you fake moves on a nigga you employ
We'll all emerge off your set, now you know God damn
I show living large niggas how to flip a def jam
And rough up the motherfuckin' house cause I smother
You cold chillin' motherfuckers, I still warn a brother
I'm ruthless my clan don't have to act wild
That shit is jive, an old sleeping bag profile
The soft comedian rap shit ain't the rough witty
On the reel to reel it wasn't from a tough city
Niggas be game, thinking that they lyrical surgeons
They know they microphone's a virgin
And if you ain't boned a mic you couldn't hurt a bee
That's like going to Venus driving a mercury
The capitol of this rugged slang is Wu-Tang
Witty unpredictable talent and natural game
I death row an mc with mic cables
The epic is that I rush associated labels
From east west to atco, I bring it to a next plateau
But I keep it phat though, yo
I'm hitting batters up with the wild pitch style
I even show an Uptown MC a style
Who thought he saw me on 4th & Broadway
But I was out on the island, bombing MC's all day
My priority is that I'm first priority
I bone the secret out a bitch in a sorority
So look out for A&M, the Abbot and the Master
Breaking down your pendulum
As I fiend MC's out with a blow that'll numb the a-
-Ppendix, I'm holding more more weight than Colombia
Index Interscope, we RCA, clan
That's coming with a plan to free a
Slave of a mental death MC don't panic
Throw that A&R nigga off the boat in the Atlantic
Now who's the bad boy character, not from Arista
But firing weapons released on Geffen
So duck as I struck with the soul of Motown
My central broadcasting systems is low down
And dirty, like that bastard
It's getting drastic
Read the label and say it loud
Another Wu banger
Thirty-six chambers, through your area
(Yeah, the RZA, phat tracks on a disc)
RZA razor RZA razor sharp
(Another Wu-Tang production kid, coming at ya)