Lyrical Breakdown of Two Words - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Two Words" not only celebrates Kanye West'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 in the streets, playa, get ya mail It's only two places you end up, either dead or in jail Still nowhere to go Still nowhere to go Now throw your hands up hustlers, busters, boosters, hoes Everybody, fuck that Still nowhere to go Still nowhere to go Two words, United States, no love, no breaks Low brow, high stakes, crack smoke, black folks Big Macs, fat folks, ecstasy capsules Presidential scandals, everybody move Two words, Mos Def, K. West, hot shit Calm down, get back, ghetto people, got this Game 'pon lock shit, gun 'pon cock shit We won't stop shit, everybody move Two words, BK, NY, Bed Stuy Too harsh, too hungry, too many, that's why These streets know game, can't ball, don't play Heavy traffic, one lane, everybody move Two words, Mos Def, Black Jack, hot shit Calm down, get back, ghetto people, got this Game 'pon lock, gun 'pon cock We won't stop, everybody move Now throw your hands up hustlers, busters, boosters, hoes Everybody, fuck that Still nowhere to go Still nowhere to go And keep your hands up hustlers, busters, boosters, hoes ('til they reach the sky) Everybody, fuck that Still nowhere to go Still nowhere to go Two words, Chi-town, South Side, worldwide 'Cause I rep that 'til I fuckin' die One neck two chains, one waist two gats One wall, 20 plaques, dues paid, gimme that I am limelight, Blueprint, five mics Go-Getters rhyme like should've been signed twice Most imitated, Grammy nominated Hotel accommodated, cheerleader prom-dated Barbershop player-hated, mom-and-pop bootlegged it Felt like it rained 'til the roof caved in Two words, Chi-town raised me crazy So I live by two words, "Fuck you, pay me" Screamin', "Jesus save me" You know how the game be, I can't let 'em change me 'Cause on judgment day, you gon' blame me Look, God, it's the same me And I basically know now, we get racially profiled Cuffed up and hosed down, pimped up and ho'd down Plus I got a whole city to hold down From the bottom, so the top's the only place to go now Now throw ya hands up hustlers, busters, boosters, hoes Everybody, fuck that Still nowhere to go Still nowhere to go Two words, freeway, two letters, A-R Turn y'all rap niggas to two words, fast runners Like Jackie Joyner, you better sleep with your burner The heat skeet, blow a reef through your car, my God Two words, no guns, break arms Break necks, break backs, Steven Seagal Free, young boss, freshman of the Roc With the beef in the pot, Jay sent for his dogs to brawl Forget your squad, better fend for yourself Have you screamin' out four words, "Send for the law", uh Two words, Freeway, slightly retarded Fuck around, throw a clip in your artist, leave with his broad Red, white, blue, black (throw your hands up) Calm down, move back Motherfuckers askin', "Who is that?" You know it's the almighty Black Jack Mos Def, K. West Ghetto people, get this shit off your chest North to the south, to the east, to the west Black Jack Johnson, it's no contest (High) and show it to 'em like