Lyrical Breakdown of Try Me - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Try Me" 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 "Try Me" 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 "Try Me" 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!

Damn Forgot to do something Fuck was it Talked about the trust fund kids, [?], cops Fake Starbucks activist motherfuckers, (did I say it?) Yo, did I diss- did I say fuck Eminem? I said fuck Eminem Damn, what'd I forget to do? Oh yeah, it ain't over motherfuckers I hate you motherfuckers, I hate you motherfuckers I hate you motherfuckers, I hate you motherfuckers I hate you motherfuckers Niggas wanna be gods I'm in it One time for the little line baby girl I'm in that thing like what R.I.P. to my haters out in the D.R Tryin' to live they life gettin' killed by fucking latinas If it was up to me, I'd end they fuckin' history Deport 'em if they got no papers, oof, the irony But see, this shit was never new to me Warned you niggas about that black-brown unity This racism shit is too deep for any philosophy I don't know why you dumb crackers had a monopoly I don't know why y'all fraternizin' with enemies Don't know they race so them fuckboys pretend to be Anything they wanna be Got some fuckin wannabes Zoe Saldana and Sammy Sosa, y'all extra weak Black to the core bitch my skin on extra fleek Y'all been piggybackin' off a niggas since slavery But that shit stops here I rose to the pulpit And brought extra bullets for that "hola papi" bullshit I swear on James Brown if you try me Red hooks on 'em like Spike Lee, yuh, huh I said I swear on James Brown if you try me Red hooks on 'em like Spike Lee Uh, us Five one six, seven one eight Yeah, and everything in between One time, I hold nothin' back, check it Before I get to the business I haven't spit a punchline since Christmas Amazon guns get clipped with the quickness Ya must want death on your wishlist, bombaclot This that headshot, close proxy Gotta question for you bitches in the hot seat What would G.G. Allen do? Let's dig up the body Put that cracker on his knees and let him pray to my shotty This is, young thotty, Benghazi, I catch bodies No leader mask gone somebody stop me The real marxist harmonist I'm a nobody Black Jesus, dark Casear I rep commies I wish a fuckin officer would try to run up on me Second amendment, bitch I got the Glock on me Hot steppin', who's fuckin' with the young Devon? Send yo' ass to heaven, go to 7-Eleven I said I swear on James Brown, if you try me Red hooks on 'em like Spike Lee I swear on James Brown if you try me Red hooks on 'em like Spike Lee, huh! Uh, huh Uh! Red, Spike, rock, yah Set 'em up, set 'em up! [?] nigga, yo Niggas be talking 'bout what they wanna do to the prophet Bitch stop it, I'm John Hopkins, I close coffins Straight stalkin'. I get to walkin', your purse is falling The fellas marchin' Tryin' your best to be cautious This is coins over paper, I'll pay the bill for your wake I kill a coppa and bake 'em and ship 'em off to Jamaica Brake a dread with the vapor, I never been in the paper But when I do, City of God, Z in the makin' Bitch know I never trust a preacher or a rabbi Compress me or check me bitch I'm a motherfuckin' landmine Young black landline, password is these cans flyin' All up in your cubicle, bitch I work on my own time Kill a cop for full time and take him out as old time I don't give a fuck about a nigga talkin' gun rhymes Peg more than showtime, I spit fuckin' coke lines Flash a nigga to blam him and make him give me a cosign