Lyrical Breakdown of Pardon My Ego - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Pardon My Ego" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Logic weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Pardon My Ego" 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 Logic 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 Logic's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Pardon My Ego" not only celebrates Logic'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!
Five hundred thousand for a one-off
Hit the stage, I rage, and then I run off (Uh)
It don't matter where we at, it's poppin' like a gun off (Uh)
Bumping N.W.A. on the one o one-uh (Uh, ah, uh, uh)
Five hundred thousand for a one-off
Hit the stage, I rage, and then I run off (Uh)
It don't matter where we at, it's poppin' like a gun off (Uh)
Bumping N.W.A. on the one o one-uh (Uh)
Skinny Nikki geeky, gettin' brain dead, uh
I don't give a fuck what the lames say, uh
Old girl wanna give the boy head
How 'bout a little bitty self-love instead?
I can't fuck a ho, I'd rather self-love instead
Can't save a ho, no S on my chest, or gun to my head (Ah)
Get the bread (Ah), get the bread (Ah)
Count this fucking money, boy, now get the bread, uh
I ain't just tryna get a nut off
Bobby Boy be quick to leave a bad bitch cut off
Like when you in the studio and the vocal get cut
Five hundred thousand for a one-off
Hit the stage, I rage, and then I run off (Uh)
It don't matter where we at, it's poppin' like a gun off (Uh)
Bumping N.W.A. on the one o one-uh (Uh, woo, uh, uh)
Five hundred thousand for a one-off
Hit the stage, I rage, and then I run off (Uh)
It don't matter where we at, it's poppin' like a gun off (Uh)
Bumping N.W.A. on the one o one-uh (Uh)
Like (Ah)
Get the bread (Ah), get the bread (Ah)
Count this fucking money, boy, now get the bread
I'm feelin' like Kid Cudi
A little crazy, but tell me, what genius ain't a little nutty?
Everybody be like that sometimes
You can hear it in me in some rhymes
I ain't bipolar, Kanye make me wish I was
Cause that level of genius the meanest
Nobody fuckin' around with that flow
When I spit it, you know it's the cleanest, uh
All my haters can suck my penis
Went from five hundred a show to sellin' out arenas
From SOB's in NYC
To smokin' trees at the motherfuckin' Garden
Pardon my ego, uh
Maybe it's the weed smoke
Maybe it's the beat though
If I draw it in the sand
Better not cross the line like a free throw, uh
Five hundred thousand for a one-off
Hit the stage, I rage, and then I run off (Uh)
It don't matter where we at, it's poppin' like a gun off (Uh)
Bumping N.W.A. on the one o one-uh (Uh, woo, uh)
Five hundred thousand for a one-off
Hit the stage, I rage, and then I run off (Uh)
It don't matter where we at, it's poppin' like a gun off (Uh)
Bumping N.W.A. on the one o one-uh (Uh)
Like (Ah)
Get the bread (Ah), get the bread (Ah)
Count this fucking money, boy, now get the bread