Lyrical Breakdown of Surround Sound - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Surround Sound" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how JID weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Surround Sound" 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 JID 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 JID's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Surround Sound" not only celebrates JID'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!

I know I can't afford to stop For one moment That it's too soon to for- Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down (uh, uh, wow) Puttin' rap on my back and I'm black and, snatchin' crowns (uh, whoa) I done came back around like a nigga sellin' crack and pounds I got a bag now but it's nothin' to brag 'bout Gun blast in the background (doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-dot-soot) I'm a black man with the blood hounds MAC-10 makin' love sounds to a bad chick, she from Uptown I'm from down South, not a loud mouth We could fuck around (whoa, shit, whoa) Hit the music, baby, cut it down (whoa, shit, whoa) Hit a doobie while you do me indubitably (whoa, whoa, whoa, shit, whoa) I feel like I'ma bust now I feel like a buss down (whoa, shit) When I shine bright, blind niggas is up now (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit) In the cut big black truck (whoa, shit, whoa, shit) Pack sacked up, you can pick it up now (whoa, shit, oh) Nigga, fuck it, okay (ayy) Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down Puttin' rap on my back and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns I know I can't afford to stop For one moment That it's too soon to for- Me and my money attached emotionally I get to clutchin' if you get too close to me I'm at the top where I'm 'posed to be Jumped in the game, niggas act like they coachin' me Four hundred racks ain't shit but a show to me I'm on the road and I bet that yo' ho with me When I'm in traffic it's always a pole with me Pillsbury, man, I keep dough with me Hit from the back, she givin' me slurp and I ain't even pull my pants down Jump in the box and slide to the other side, it's always a man down Draw down, hands in the air, nigga, make one move, get gunned down Givin' out smoke so long, they don't even wanna talk no more, they just run now No lock doors, I serve with a chop, bitch got spent, she was hangin' with a opp We call him Mickey, he talk to the cops, I was on Pinedale, glass in the sock Back in the day, I invest in the block, fast forward now I'm investin' in stocks I put a drum on a Heckler & Koch, don't play 'cause I'm very invested in shots Push the fuckin' pack off of the porch or break a pound down Get the strap, if it happen to blow, it make surround sounds Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town, down Puttin' rap on my back and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns I put the pussycat in his face 'cause he stay off Cheshire Bridge Then I took it back, now he say that he shakin' and he shiverin' Like the way it taste and he ain't ate it in a minute They call me Yung Baby, but I still got hella ch- Oh, shit, run that motherfuckin' crown, you bitch You motherfuckin' bitch (oh, shit) Uh, shit Sorry in advance for my bros, they'll whoop a nigga ass What you whippin' up? (Whoa) JID in the back, if you lookin' for the dope Niggas got it in the bag 'cause we trappin' on the low And I'm the shit with the flow, huh, give me a joke Heard a nigga say that you the next? No, no, no, I'm the best Tell them bitches stop the mothafuckin' press Press stop, fuck a top five list Get 'em a vest, he get lopsided Fuck the cops we was runnin' from Rottweilers Most of my partnas ain't have poppa just a popped condom Couple kids with Alzheimer's, .40 on his side, boy, you Mike Alstott He on the block violent Robbin' niggas in the hood and then swap genres Green light, line a nigga up, stop sign him Keep drivin', you will not find him I'ma, I'ma, I'ma anom-anomaly I turned into a rapper ironically I ran the bag up, back up, niggas is on to me (whoa, shit, whoa, shit) Niggas should honor me, if you think I'm a wannabe (whoa, shit, whoa, shit) It's pretty comedy, I'm melancholy and cool, so calmly (whoa, shit) Bussin' moves, my truths carry velocity (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit) Same posse since OshPosh B'gosh, pussyclot Treat the rappin' like I'm pushin' rock (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit) On the stove with the Pyrex pot The door stay locked, it don't say knock We on they block, we own they block (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit) It's Monopoly games, we stole they properties Smooth talkin' and moonwalkin' The same lil' niggas, small pond but a pool shark (whoa, shit, whoa, shit, whoa, shit) I aim big stick, knock chalk off cue balls (whoa, shit) Bang this shit (bang, bang, bang) (Bang, bang, bang)