Lyrical Breakdown of Jordan Rules - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Jordan Rules" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how JPEGMAFIA weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Jordan Rules" 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 JPEGMAFIA 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 JPEGMAFIA's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Jordan Rules" not only celebrates JPEGMAFIA'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!
Uh
You ain't gotta be white for this Kimber to give you a tan
Uh, bid on the boss, double the cost, bam
They sucking dick when you poppin', I know they gon' stop
I want my advance
Got these bitches jumpin' through the hoops to get closer to the PEG
I'm fucking a fan
Yeah, I fired my PR, that bitch was a loser
More leather than money in hand
Uh, I did not grow up with baby videos
My mama could not afford cams
These niggas be whiter than snow and they grow up
That's why they relate to they fans
Keep a hand in they face, when they shoot
This Tiananmen Square, niggas tankin' the plans
I was wrong when I said Dillon Brooks
I'm a Billy Laimbeer kind of man
Hoe, square up when you step in my lane
I got Jordan rules to put you in the pan
I be fuckin' my bitch to the side
My side bitch bump Joey Valence
At the Boiler Room, you could've died
All these fuckers do not got no hands
What you not—
What you not gonna do is step up to my face with that playing
Uh, out of my mind, I'm not out of thots
Out of the pan, I'm whipping the pots
Brain over pussy, thought out of the box
All of you niggas is tender and soft
AND1, point the foul out
Shook that motherfucker right up out of his socks
.45 to his lightbulb, Teddy Pendergrass
We just turned that bitch off
Fuck nigga
I was born in the '80s, nigga
I don't give a fuck about nothing you stupid ass niggas is doing
Fuck y'all
I got more choppas than crackers that don't trust the government
Look what I'm— (Totin')
We aim at your head
You voted for Jill
You a fed (Totin')
Higher than healthcare
Do some cardio
Shot your boss like my brother was Mario (Murder)
Choppers and pistols with automatics attached
Next to katana like Joker (I'm ready to laugh)
The Kimber a freak, band geek
Keep the drum in her butt
I know you niggas be jockin', the bitches be barkin'
I'm ready to muzzle a mutt (Totin')
Higher than healthcare
Do some cardio
Shot your boss like my brother was Mario
Choppers and pistols with automatics attached
Next to katana like Joker (I'm ready to murder)
I was born in the '80s, nigga
I don't give a fuck about none of you
Twisted Tea sippin' punk bitch-ass niggas be doin'
Y'all niggas is pie
All of y'all
Hahaha
Born in the '80s
Look
I ain't gon' front, got that shit in my Pelican
I break it down when I'm checkin' my ticket
Eskimo bros with some niggas I'm better than
Industry niggas all estrogen bitches
White people copyin' culture
I wanna be Trump since y'all wanna be niggas
And how come your bitches be hittin' me up on the side
'cause she want her a nigga?
How come they get so defensive when you call 'em out
They don't wanna be—
How much you hate that nigga?
I hate him so much, I hope they die
How much you hate this nigga?
His daddy dead and his brother is pie
How much you hate that nigga?
I'm fucking his main, I'm working his sides
Where's your patience, nigga?
I ran out when he started runnin' up the lies
How did you break this nigga?
I took all my enemies names, I don't beef, I mime
Your bitch, your house, your clout
That's mine
Them cars, them clothes, them hoes
All mine
I got these beats doing cardio
El Generico, mask up and body hoes
Don't flinch, don't move, don't breathe
He dyin' for clout, press his funeral tee