Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Hood Politics" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Hood Politics" 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Hood Politics" not only celebrates undefined'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!
K-Dot, pick up the phone, nigga
Every time I call, it's going to voicemail
Don't tell me they got you on some weirdo rap shit, nigga
No socks and skinny jeans and shit, ha
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Call me on Shaniqua's phone
I been A-1 since day one, you niggas boo-boo
Your homeboy, your block that you're from, boo-boo
Lil' hoes you went to school with, boo-boo
Baby mama and your new bitch, boo-boo
We was in the hood, 14 with the deuce-deuce
14 years later going hard, like we used to on the dead homies
On the dead homies
I don't give a fuck about no politics in rap, my nigga
My lil' homie Stunna Deuce ain't never comin' back, my nigga
So you better go hard every time you jump on wax, my nigga
Fuck what they talkin' bout, your shit is where it's at, my nigga
Came in this game, you stuck your fangs in this game
You wore no chain in this game, your hood your name in this game
Now you double up, time to bubble up the bread and huddle up
Stickin' to the scripts, now here if them Benjamins go cuddle up
Skip, hop, drip, drop, flip, flop with the white tube sock
It goes "Sherm Sticks, burn this"
That's what the product smell like when the chemicals mix
50 nigga salute, out the Compton zoo, with the extras
El Co's, Monte Carlos, Road Kings and dressers
Rip Ridaz, P-Funkers, Mexicans, they fuck with you
Asians, they fuck with you, nobody can fuck with you
I been A-1 since day one, you niggas boo-boo
Your homeboy, your block that you're from, boo-boo
Lil' hoes you went to school with, boo-boo
Baby mama and your new bitch, boo-boo
We was in the hood, 14 with the deuce-deuce
14 years later going hard, like we used to on the dead homies
On the dead homies
Hopped out the caddy, just got my dick sucked
The little homies called and said, "The enemies done cliqued up"
Oh, yeah? Puto want to squabble with mi barrio?
Oh, yeah? Tell 'em they can run it for the cardio
Oh, yeah? Everything is everything, it's scandalous
Slow motion for the ambulance, the project filled with cameras
The LAPD gamblin', scramblin', football numbers slanderin'
Niggas names on paper, you snitched all summer
Streets don't fail me now, they tell me it's a new gang in town
From Compton to Congress, set trippin' all around
Ain't nothin' new, but a flu of new Demo-Crips and Re-Blood-licans
Red state versus a blue state, which one you governin'?
They give us guns and drugs, call us thugs
Make it they promise to fuck with you
No condom, they fuck with you, Obama say, "What it do?"
Obama say, "What it do?"
Obama say, "What it do?"
I been A-1 since day one, you niggas boo-boo
Your homeboy, your block that you're from, boo-boo
Lil' hoes you went to school with, boo-boo
Baby mama and your new bitch, boo-boo
We was in the hood, 14 with the deuce-deuce
14 years later going hard, like we used to on the dead homies
On the dead homies
Everybody want to talk about who this and who that
Who the realest and who wack, or who white or who black
Critics want to mention that they miss when hip hop was rappin'
Motherfucker, if you did, then Killer Mike'd be platinum
Y'all priorities fucked up, put energy in wrong shit
Hennessy and Crown Vic, my memory been gone since
Don't ask me 'bout no camera blocking at award shows
No, don't ask about my bitch, no, don't ask about my Vogues
'Less you askin' me about power, yeah, I got a lot of it
I'm the only nigga next to Snoop that can push the button
Had the Coast on standby
"K. Dot, what up? I heard they opened up Pandora's box"
I box 'em all in, by a landslide
Nah homie we too sensitive, it spill out to the streets
I make the call and get the coast involved then history repeats
But I resolved inside that private hall while sitting down with Jay
He said, "It's funny how one verse could fuck up the game"
I been A-1 since day one, you niggas boo-boo
I remember you was conflicted
Misusing your influence
Sometimes I did the same
Abusing my power full of resentment
Resentment that turned into a deep depression
Found myself screaming in a hotel room
I didn't want to self-destruct
The evils of Lucy was all around me
So I went running for answers
Until I came home
But that didn't stop survivors guilt
Going back and forth
Trying to convince myself the stripes I earned
Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was
But while my loved ones was fighting a continuous war back in the city
I was entering a new one