Lyrical Breakdown of Wrist to Work - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Wrist to Work" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Kevin Gates weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Wrist to Work" 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 Kevin Gates 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 Kevin Gates's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Wrist to Work" not only celebrates Kevin Gates'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!
Wrist to Work
KEVIN GATES
(AND 1 MORE)
I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
You think I'm slippin', try to rip me, bet my pistol work!
Red bone in the back seat and I'm being chauffeured by a junkie
On the movie reel it's "A Time to Kill"but I'm steady stroking her monkey
And I swear to God, I'll kick her out the car if I smell my hand and it's funky
My trap house sits on the street, you could come and see if it's bumpin'
I can hit the mall for Adidas sneaks, take a bitch to eat and then dump her
Hit Wal-Mart, buy house slippers, come back - the bitch still jumpin' (Boing)
I'm talking goin' PoGo --hold on, I don't do no Pogo
I'm too fresh to be jumpin' up and down rockin' all of this Polo
Women playing Marco Polo, I ain't even work the mojo
Ask 'em why they goin' loco, fine and sexy when I'm solo
I'mma [?] sell in Gardere, in the duplex to the right
She can whip around her neck, go get me some shit to light!(Gates!)
I don't give a fuck and I think Nook would do the same
Clique house on flame, but it ain't in my name
A couple grand that's pocket change, I put that on your brain
My swag like cocaine, put that in your vein
Your girl on my dick, say she wanna be for me now
But I got a girl that I love, her name Nina
Every time I dream of, buku cocaína
A bitch calls my phone, wake me up and fucks my dream up
Wait, it's a sale, calling on my cell
My shit be blowing up
It be too hard to tell
And we be smoking purple
It ain't too hard to smell
My dope be coming in bricks, it ain't too hard to sell
White tail, red nose, she a Reindeer (What that is?)
(Sniiiiiiiifffffff) Powder sniffer, still a reindeer
I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
I Swear to God, I'm in the kitchen puttin' my wrist to work (Weight)
I just fell back in my section with a Mexican supply
Take a good look at this counter, all this white shit 'bout to fly
Fresh up out the pot with lock up, probably go before it dry
Niggas stoppin' by to buy, got Port Allen on my line
In the middle of December block be clickin' like July (Brrrracka)
They say my shit killin' people and I'm helpin' people die
Those who choose to use it, use it, I just happen to supply
Don't encourage marijuana-- I just happen to get high
My daddy Sam, very smart, he made me sharp before he died
"Stay away if they feet ugly, sucking, fucking entertainers"
Seeing nothing as in payment all she want was entertainment
Grind infinity will make the wrist whip a Mercedes
You already know
You ole bitch ass niggas need to hide y'all?
My lil son fuckin' these house outchea mane
My lil son go to school you know and, yeah
Michael Kors you know, everything Adidas, everything
My youngin' retawdid', he ain't nothin' but sixteen
Out his mind, out his mind, out his mind, out his mind
I'mma grind, I'mma grind, gettin money, I'mma grind
I just got the big face on my arm like my nigga Stroke
You can believe that
Mane i was bout' to run out and ran that bitch
Big-face Roley on me