Lyrical Breakdown of What They Hittin' Foe? - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "What They Hittin' Foe?" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Ice Cube weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "What They Hittin' Foe?" 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 Ice Cube 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 Ice Cube's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "What They Hittin' Foe?" not only celebrates Ice Cube'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!

Gettin' down in a crap game Fools think I'm soft, cause now I'm in the rap game And I don't hang out as much, bang out dope cuts Standin' on stage and I'm grabbin' my nuts But when it comes to gettin' in a circle I'm hittin' sevens turnin' broke niggas purple Looking fo' Little Joe and the dumb fools scream and choke When deuce-deuce hit the floor, yo Now which of ya wanna fade the twenty? I'm turnin' your fat pockets skinny Aww yeah I'm shaking the ivory And boom, it's like they die for me Fool you can get loud, get mad, hit the joint But don't forget my point, there it is yo I put my Nike on the bet so it won't slide Money gone cause I'm never hittin' deuce-five I'm never hittin' four-trey, no way You wanna leave but come on bro stay Yeah, fever that'll work Poppa need brand-new shoes and a sweatshirt Fool, you can't even get wit' that And now that I'm winnin', I gots to get my gat Cause I see, your homies starting to look And broke little punks, they make the best crooks And I'm feelin' like a baller Buckin' fools, now the circle's getting smaller Now you wanna go and scheme Little suckas like you just love to triple-team So I pick up my money and start walkin' 'Cause now I let the gat start talkin' Now, since y'all lost, you wanna go out like the others Take that ya' little suckas