Lyrical Breakdown of 409 - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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 Ice-T 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 Ice-T 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-T's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "409" not only celebrates Ice-T'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