Lyrical Breakdown of John - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

  • Lyric Overview: Witness how Rick Ross feat. Lil Wayne weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "John" 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 Rick Ross feat. Lil Wayne 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 Rick Ross feat. Lil Wayne's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "John" not only celebrates Rick Ross feat. Lil Wayne'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!

Wuh

Yeah

Hooh

Fo' fo' bulldog, my muthafucking pet

I point it at you and tell that muthafucker fetch

I'm fucking her good, she got her legs on my neck

I get pussy, mouth and ass, call that bitch triple threat

When I was in jail she let me call her collect

But if she get greedy, I'ma starve her to death

Top down, it's upset

Been fucking the world and nigga I aint cum yet

You fuck with me wrong, I knock your head off your neck

The flight too long, I got a bed on the jet

The guns are drawn and I aint talking 'bout a sketch

I pay these niggas with a reality check

Prepare for the worst but still praying for the best

This game is a bitch I got my hand up her dress

The money don't sleep so Weezy can't rest

An AK47 is my fucking address, huh

I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a

Chopper in the car

I got a chopper in the car

I got a chopper in the car

Yeah

Load up the choppers like it's December

31st

Roll up and cock it and hit them niggas

Where it hurts

If I die today, remember me like John Lennon

Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh

Big black nigga, in an icey watch

Shoes on the coupe, bitch I got a Nike shop

Counts the profits you could bring 'em in a Nike box

Grinding in my Jordans kick em off they

Might high, swish!

I'm swimming in the yellow bitch, boss

In a red 911 looking devilish

Red beam make a bitch nigga sit down

Thought it were bullet proof till he got hit the fifth time

Drop Palmolive in a nigga dope

Make it come back even harder than before

Baby I'm the only one that paid your car

Notes

Well connected, got killers off in Chicago

I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car

I got a chopper in the car

I got a chopper in the car

Load up the choppers like it's December

31st

Roll up and cock it and hit them niggas

Where it hurts

If I die today, remember me like John Lennon

Buried in Louis, I'm talking all brown linen, huh

Talk stupid get ya head popped

I got that Esther, bitch I'm red fox

Big bee's, Red Sox

I get money to kill time, dead clocks

Your f-cking with a n-gga who don't give a fuck

Empty the clip than roll the window up

Pussy niggas sweet, you niggas center bun

I'm in a red bitch, she said she finna cum

200 thou on a chain, I don't need a piece

That banana clip, let Chiquita speak

Dark shades, Eazy E

Five letters, YMCMB

Bitch ass nigga, pussy ass nigga

I see ya looking, what ya looking ass nigga?

You know the rules, kill em all and keep

Moving

If I died today it'd be a holiday

I'm not a star, somebody lied I got a chopper in the car

So don't make it come alive

Rip yo ass apart than I put myself together

YMCMB, double M, we rich forever

The bigger the bullet the more that bitch gon bang

Red on the wall, Basquiat when I paint

Red Lamborghini till I gave it to my bitch

My first home invasion, pocket gain and 40 bricks

Son of a bitch, then I made a great escape

Ain't it funny momma, only son be baking cakes

Pull up in the sleigh, hop out like I'm santa claus

Niggas gather round, got gifts for all of y'all

Take it home and let it bubble that's the

Double up

If you get in trouble that just mean you fucking up, nigga

It's a cold World I need a burt to call a

Wood, I call the place mutherfucker hooliwood

I'm not a star, somebody lied, I got a

Chopper in the car

Yeah