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