Lyrical Breakdown of FYM (feat. Mystikal) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "FYM (feat. Mystikal)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Joyner Lucas feat. Mystikal weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "FYM (feat. Mystikal)" 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 Joyner Lucas feat. Mystikal 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 Joyner Lucas feat. Mystikal's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "FYM (feat. Mystikal)" not only celebrates Joyner Lucas feat. Mystikal'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!

Picture me putting my city all over the map They wasn't believers, I had to get even at math We coming, I'm pulling and jumping all over your grass So tell all my bitches I got a new girl Tell the police that I'm robbing the bank And I want all of my fifty's in cash Bitch, I'm tired of living check the cheque I need twenty models and some extra sex Smiling in my grave, bitch I'm fresh to death I've been drinking Wu-Tang with Inspectah Deck (getting drunk) Yeah, I got some shit that I gotta just get off my chest I can admit I got lots on my list and you next Take it how you want it, I ain't famous like I want it But I think I might just skrrt off, blow the speakers and turn up Pop a bottle of Smirnoff, go to church with my shirt off Tell the Lord that I'm here now, I've been waiting for so long I've been patient for so long, breaking rules like there's no laws And I did it for a long time If you don't like me, take a ticket, there's a long line Nice to meet me, hoe, I think the pleasure's all mine Shit, they've been clocking me so long, I think they lost time Ooh you lost your mind, nigga, fuck you mean Hol' on, goddamn it, nigga fuck you mean And I don't trust a muthafucking soul What the fuck you mean? Hol' up, whoa whoa whoa whoa What the fuck you mean? Don't know what you think, compare me to niggas is nothing Adrenaline pumping, and blood will be leaking and running Shit, I do what I do, I don't care if you like it or love it Tell all of my bitches I got a new girl Yo tell the police that I'm robbing the bank And I want all my money in hundreds Bitch, I'm tired of living on the edge I wanna sell drugs but they gon' call the feds I just bought a brick and that shit cost an arm and leg My momma told me take it back and get a job instead (Where's your common sense, nigga?) Me and the devil got too much in common, I swear Born in the ghetto I never had nothing to fear Take it how you want it, I ain't famous like I want it So, I might just throw a hissy fit Call up Cassie, ask her if she broke up with Diddy yet I said shawty, if she's talking I ain't hitting it 'Cause she gon' call her friends up and brag about the shit we did Whoa, I ain't into pillow talking, go chop off your lips If I ain't in your top ten, go dive off a bridge My block boys got Glock fours that'll knock off your lid I doubt you gon' pop off, so hop off my dick Whoo! Nigga, fuck you mean, woo! Goddamn it, I said fuck you mean?! Listen, I don't trust a muthafucking soul Nigga, no, nigga, fuck you mean?! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa What the fuck you mean?! You thought I was finished, you thought it was over You thought I retired, you thought I went fishing with Kobe Nigga, I'm still as the illest considered as one of the coldest Still-a put a part in a rapper head like Moses I'm throwback like I'm Motorola But hoe, I'm cooler than a cup of yogurt Black flag Crip boy truck soldier I'm cool with drug lords and Ayatollah's Rap god cyclops and all the Bitch I'm King Kong ain't no body told ya? Fuck you think throats still smooth Aww fuck it I'm Bobby Brown, I'm bout to go get loaded Retarded Paul McCartney bitch I'm rich I'm Muhammad Ali I talk shit I'm James Brown bout to tear down this bitch I'm Michael Jackson bitch I'm bad as bad gone get Fuck you Mean? Yo wassup, this is Joyner I'm unable to take your call right now Leave me a brief message and I'll get back to you, peace Yo, this is the third time this week that you failed to pick up your son And I'm just so confused Like I find it funny that you stay in the studio laying something down Slanging mixtapes but you have yet to bring home diapers And lay your kid down and go to sleep On Snapchat talking 'bout, "Where's the plug?" Like I'm sure you got national grid tryna cut my lights back on Like "a dollar and a dream" ass career And you can't even come home and give us a dollar for some fuckin' milk I'm not doing this with you Keep it a 100 my nigga