Lyrical Breakdown of Funeral - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Funeral" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Lil Wayne weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Funeral" 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 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 Lil Wayne's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Funeral" not only celebrates 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!
Welcome to the funeral, yeah
Closed casket as usual
Yeah, welcome to the funeral
The choir's singin' musicals
Kumbaya, it's beautiful
I bust in with that Uzi, though
And they look like they saw Lucifer
Rrr
Welcome to the funeral
We not welcome, we intruded, though
You wanted smoke until you blew the smoke
(Phew)
That's just unexcusable
Welcome to the funeral, where we from, we ruin them
We been to quite a few of 'em
The reverend talk, we booin' him
We throw up the Piru at him
Welcome to the funeral, closed casket as usual
Soul snatching, that's usual
Amen, hallelujah though
Whole family delusional
Niggas cryin' like two-year-olds
Bullet holes come through the doors
I just crossed my heart, then I threw a rose
Damn, welcome to your funeral
Everybody knew you, bro
Ain't nobody shootin', though
Gotta die to see who you know
Damn, welcome to the funeral
Where we from, we ruin them
The preacher preach, we shootin' him
Now we need one for you and him
That's why they should cremate ya
Hope when you die they commemorate you
Life is a movie and it's in theaters
Some of y'alls already went to cable
Get shot from afar, you can get a facial
Black gun, chrome gun, interracial
Weed so strong, need ventilation
Funeral home need renovation
I got your mom's teary-eyed, that's precipitation
Nigga, when you died, did your bitch a favor
Nigga, we gon' mob like the Genoveses
Nigga, fat mob, I'ma Jenny Craig 'em
Drive-bys in a Winnebago
Snipers never hit a baby, crib or cradle
Sit tomatoes on your head and split tomatoes
From a hundred feet away, now it's a halo
That's tomato sauce, Heinz 57
Catch up, nigga, you behind, where I left you
I hate your bitch, your mom, and your fellas, kids, cousins
Uncles, aunts, and your nephew (Pfft)
Shoot a pussy nigga in the face, closed casket
Look his pretty kid in the face, poor bastard
Tears runnin' down his bitch face, romantic
Two straps on me like the old Bo Jacksons (Bah)
In his face, closed casket
Send him on the highway to heaven, no traffic
My lil' nigga just caught a body, he ecstatic
He cried tears of joy, then he got 'em tatted
Welcome to the funeral, closed casket as usual
Whole family delusional
Amen, hallelujah though
Singing musicals, Kumbaya, it's beautiful
I bust in with the Uzi though
They look like they saw Lucifer
Yeah, welcome to the funeral
Everybody knew you, bro
Ain't nobody shootin' though
That's just unexcusable
Damn, welcome to the funeral
Where we from, we ruin 'em
I've been to quite a few of them
My nigga, got immune to them
Damn, shoot a pussy nigga in the face, closed casket
Huh, huh, bop
Look his pretty kids in the face, poor bastards, goddamn
Drive-bys in a Winnebago
Snipers never hit a baby, crib or cradle
Sit tomatoes on your head then split tomatoes
From a hundred feet away, now it's a halo
In other words, the nigga dead