Welcome to the detailed analysis of "409" 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 "409" 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 "409" 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!
It's time to start the party if y'all don't mind
Me and E clean our Adidas with 409
He rocks the highs, I dog the bass
You wanna hear us rock? Here's a taste!
Every day I make a sandwich with ham and cheese
Use miracle whip, I don't like mayonnaise
I eat a can of beans, good for my heart
About 1 PM, I always
Far from me to bite another's rhyme
They're just too easy to write
I do 'em two at a time
Like doggin' the wax and ya don't quit
And if you didn't like that then suck my
Dictations how I write my raps
Just maxin' with two freaks upon my lap
Chillin' on the phone, bookin' more def shows
And if the freaks get illy, I smack the
Whole days of my life are spent inside my bed
Just maxin' and relaxin' like I'm at Club Med
Ya say you like this record, you think it's fun?
Party people get stupid, we just begun
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
You're get, get, gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Break!
You're get, get, gettin' real stupid
As the beat hits your body (get ill)
You ain't dumb, you paid your dollars to party (go off)
The girl you're dancin' with has got great hips (bug out)
Go on, homeboy, and grab her
Tape recorder, turn up the bass
No time to waste, just dog the place
Rocket like a missile in space
Evil E keeps his 1200s in an anvil case
We fly TWA., Pan Am, PSA
To places close to home, far away
L.A., New York, Detroit, Miami
If I see a girl and like her then I let her see my
Ha ha ha!
Jam rockin's how I got my fame
Ice capital T, Evil E's his name
If you can't see who's rockin', you must be blind
You better clean your gazelles with some 409
Ooh ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh
Go, Ice, get busy
Go, Ice, get busy
Ooh ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh
Go, Evil, get busy
Go, Evil, get busy
Turn up your stereo, equalize treble
Bass be kickin' stupid hard as metal
On the mic tonight, you're right, your rhyme opponent
MC Ice-T just microphonin'
33 and a third revolutions per minute
This record is def 'cause my heart is in it
Vocals laid by the Ice, tempos tight and precise
Special effects will be created by an editor's splice
The funk is in it, ya dig it, so stop that frontin'
Bust a move to my groove, work your body, do somethin'
No way in the world that you can deny my method
As my record rotates, my words get more impressive
I'm an MC, Evil's my DJ
On Sire Records, not MCA
CBS, Capitol, 'cause they move too slow
Now Sire-Warner Brothers clocks all the dough
As the record revolves money's gettin' made
Ascap pays me every time it's played
I chill in def leathers, pure silks and suede
And the gold around my neck will never fade
Down with my Syndicate, organized rhyme
Kickin' def tempos that I design
And if you can't hear 'em, that's such a crime
You better wash your dirty ears with some 409
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Stupid, stupid, stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
I always rhyme elite, stay on beat
I travel in a posse when I walk the street
I loved to say my rhymes when I used to max
Now I don't speak much, I save my words for wax
I just wanna make a little point in this song
With a little nonsense we can all get along
And on and on till the break'a break of dawn
This jam will never play out because the groove's too strong
Guys grab a girl, girls grab a guy
If a guy wants a guy (please take it outside)
I wanna make ya enjoy yourself
On the mic tonight (Ice-T) Who else?
Evil's on the cut, Henry Gee's shotgun
Islam's my producer, Bambaataa's son
Bronx Style Bob's cold watchin' my back
Melle Mel's just layin' for some punks to act wack
Grandmaster Caz and Donald D
Scott La Rock, Red Alert, Chuck Chill Out
If you're down with my crew, you will be fine
But if you ill we'll get dirty, bring your 409!
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Gettin' real stupid
Break!
409