Lyrical Breakdown of Return Of The Crooklyn Dodgers (feat. Chubb Rock & O.C.) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Return Of The Crooklyn Dodgers (feat. Chubb Rock & O.C.)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Jeru the Damaja weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Return Of The Crooklyn Dodgers (feat. Chubb Rock & O.C.)" 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 Jeru the Damaja 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 Jeru the Damaja's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Return Of The Crooklyn Dodgers (feat. Chubb Rock & O.C.)" not only celebrates Jeru the Damaja'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!
We did it like that and now we do it like this
We did it like that and now we do it like this
Now clock kids, who got the cocaine?
Don't tell me it's the little kids on Soul Train
The metaphor sent from my brain to my jaw
It comes from other places, not the tinted faces
Journalistic values are yellow and then, of course, falters
You'll watch Channel Zero with that bitch Barbara Walters
She'll have you believe black invented crack
When President Lyndon had the formula way back
In '63 with Kennedy, yes, the double cross
Remember that's when they blow his fucking head off
Vietnam vets come back looking like
One-armed pets, Nixon bounced pure checks
No picket fence, no job, no 8-cylinder car
Blue collar turns to bourgeois
Depressed in your chest, Demerol
For sess, no dough, crack in vials much less
Whitey can sell on the corners of Bushwick
Whitey can sell on the corners of Flatbush
Whiteys can sell on the corners of Bed-Stuy
Pass the torch to that nigga guy
So just die, nigga, die, nigga
You're too black, you can't handle, you're too strong
Get high, fly, clock, next boost your steel
In '95, we take back Ebbets Field
Brooklyn, traveling distance to party
Brooklyn, absent at functions? not hardly
Brooklyn, the name alone holds Godly
You don't know? you better ask somebody
Crack filled streets since '85
The beast getting paid to not bust
Hookers' drawers got crust
Claps clapping regular, hardcore niggas with
Fat gold chains on the corner maintaining
Gold teeth flashing, stickup kids playing in front of
Latin Quarters, keep home your daughters
'Cause if bullets fly, watch the flaming
Ignorant ducks are shooting, wiling, they're not aiming
One Easter, now, to think about it, what a pity
Five people died in front of Skate City
Senseless, back then you was ill if you had a gun
People gash you and flash you, damn, no fun
Albee Square, you couldn't shop too much 'cause
Fort Greene would hem you, wreck the fuck on up
You had do or die, East New York, mad hell
Fellas cutting school, trooping to all go Maxwell
So many memories I can't manifest
Yo, 'Ru, start where I finish and, to Brooklyn, God bless
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Represent the Brooklyn all-nighter
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Because it is, survival of the fittest
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Represent the Brooklyn all-nighter
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Because it is, survival of the fittest
Listen 'cause, for your mind, I got the right nutrition
We keep shit hard like fat asses and cases of Heineken
Here in Brooklyn, home of the warrior and villain
Trife type chicks, "Top Billin'"s the anthem
Rastas smoke marijuana
Enterprising businessmen shoot dice on the corner
Excuse me while I light my spliff but some choose to sip
So bullets hit brains when bottles hit lips
Clips, whatever happened to 38 Special?
Now it's Desert Eagles, government issue
Probably the same one that killed Noriega
Chips that power nuclear bombs power my Sega
Subliminal hypnotism and colonialism
Leave most niggas dead or in prison
In Crookland, right hand cuts off the left hand
To spite the hand, jealous of the next man
So violent crimes black-on-black, plus mad crack to boot
Everybody can't rap, so most hustle and shoot
Make money money, get money, take money
I can't understand that concept 'cause Jah rules everything around me
Fire burns the unjust like arson, larceny
Melt emcees with mental telepathy
With precision, we're slicing and dicing
Peace to the East New York, Perverted Monks, and Mike Tyson
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Represent the Brooklyn all-nighter
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Because it is, survival of the fittest
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Represent the Brooklyn all-nighter
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Because it is, survival of the fittest
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Represent the Brooklyn all-nighter
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Because it is, survival of the fittest
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Represent the Brooklyn all-nighter
Crazy ass Crooklyn kids
Because it is, survival of the fittest
Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn...
Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn...