Lyrical Breakdown of Make The Loot Loop - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Make The Loot Loop" 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 "Make The Loot Loop" 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 "Make The Loot Loop" 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!
Yeah (get down, get down)
This is going out to all those motherfuckers
That like to use the word gangsta (get down, get down)
Although I am the O.G., I'm representing that hustling thing
To the end nigga, I'm trying to make the loot loop
I ain't no motherfucking gangsta, wish you'd quit calling me that
Although I still pack straps, I roll in Benzes and 'Lacs
Best believe the gats in my promo shots ain't props
I hang out sunroof tops and pop Glocks at cops
(Yo, how ya livin'?) On the mellow, cooling with my fellow
Hustlers, players, super bitch layers
Macaronis on the true DL, hell
Most fucking with my niggas, you could end up ghost (gone)
I made a million, got my shit out pawned
Bailed out the homies, now the shit's back on
Moved out the ghetto 'cause I hate it
But I roll through your fucking hood and regulate it
'Cause I wasn't born to be broke, I let the fo'-fifth smoke
Before I let my baby boy go under
No wonder I'm addicted to the cash flow, stacks of green
Flash back, I'm nudging weights down the triple beam
I'ma make the loot loop (get down, get down)
As fast as I spend it, I'm trying to get back in it
I make the loot loop (get down, get down)
It's copping blow, nigga, that's all I know
I make the loot loop (get down, get down)
As fast as I spend it, I'm trying to get back in it
I make my loot loop (get down, get down)
Nigga, I'm trying to make my bankroll bigger
I must admit, I got a lust for loot
Quick to shoot, ostrich boots and Aston Martin Coupes
Fill my dreams with cream, I got wet sheets
I'm busting nuts over currency, kid, fuck freaks
We be the niggas in the back of the club with the Moet
Bitches, shrimps, macking like pimps
Wearing fly shit you never seen before (raw)
I turn an angel to a whore, now need I say more?
My perm got bounce, fuck a 40 ounce
I'm sipping Cristal, pal, and represent I shall
To the end of the game (that nigga Ice got fame)
I'm just not over these beats, but on the fo' real streets
I make the loot loop (get down, get down)
As fast as I spend it, I'm trying to get back in it
I make the loot loop (get down, get down)
It's copping blow, nigga, that's all I know
I make the loot loop (get down, get down)
As fast as I spend it, I'm trying to get back in it
I make the loot loop (get down, get down)
Nigga, I'm trying to make my bankroll bigger
Say what you will, I'm the fool on the hill
With the pool, jacuzzi, laser beam Uzi
Niggas in L.A. know that Ice don't play
I'm just a savage for the cabbage and the pimp parlay
I rock a million worth of jewels in the park (don't start)
'Cause my niggas ain't the big ones, just big guns
Pushing the limits of this game till I gets my piece
And put my true queen Darlene in a white Corniche
So say broke if you wanna, hang out on your corner
Step back from the curb when we roll up on ya
Twenty black cars, all tinted, we Memphis
Syndicate forever, posse of the clever
Rubber bands strapped to fat green knots
We're strictly hustlers, not gangstas, but we still lick shots
For the gold (get down, get down)
Peace, I'm out like Nicole (get down, get down)
Nigga, the bank's getting bigger (get down, get down)
Yeah, I'm making the loot loop (get down, get down)
Straight player for life (get down, get down)
Yeah, hustle style