Lyrical Breakdown of We Got - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Ludacris feat. Chingy, I-20 & 2 Chainz weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "We Got" 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 Ludacris feat. Chingy, I-20 & 2 Chainz 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 Ludacris feat. Chingy, I-20 & 2 Chainz's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "We Got" not only celebrates Ludacris feat. Chingy, I-20 & 2 Chainz'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!

DTP we got them guns that go Yea I'm all about that pistol playa, cold blooded killa Niggaz recognize my name, I dub the young dealer You better tell ya man that with the gages I'm nice I'll shoot up y'all white shirts until y'all look like dice But I'm through with all the talking time to show all you niggaz I 2-0, I'm like J-Lo going through niggaz DTP we ain't plying if you try to get our payin' A.K's get ta spraying like Bottom line that mean I'm 'bout it, any nigga want it, doubt it Bust you in the broad day on the street that's fully crowded Find our hole and inside your chest, just for thinking it's rap And tell that pretty bitch thug we got some pretty big gats Chaka say I'm shot out and I tend to agree So you should watch what you saying if it's intended for me So be careful what you starting, let my fingers do the walking And that oozy get to talking like Hammers, jam 'em, snatch 'em, grab 'em Can the an and fuck 'em, damn 'em Press him, man him, scarin' him, teared him, heat him up Bake him, take him, beat him up, I hate I hate, I eat him up A B C D E F shawty is you a G or what? Now it's just me and my nuts, that's all I got in this world I'm pulling pistols out my stomach And throwing them bitches up like Earl Serving the club, head shot, scattered, covered, run, scram 'em I'm 38, hot with a pearl handle And I'm throwing text like a NBA ref I got all gold guns like they came from IRAQ Artillery, could it be I got all kinds of these pistols I point my gun at ya homeboy make ya own folks hit ya And ain't taking no more pictures, if you snap I'ma click Anyway, plus I got bullets in the clip the size of Lil' Fate And I'm wavin' choppers like helicopters You gon' need hella doctors when the glock go Say on the set bitch, better watch your lip that text be quick 20 over thurr, Tity over thurr, Luda over thurr, ain't no exit trick Us you don't mess with, we got them guns like action flicks Reload with the next clip, I'm the wrong nigga to flex with bitch Come on and test this, my gun I'm having sex with shit Put a bullet in shoot it out, got them long horns like Texas bitch Look at my necklace, maybe hit a nigga disrespect this click My pistol grip sound like this Now what, who want they day fucked When I cock and load the cake, bust bust? Y'all cowards play tough, and my peeps we come to spray stuff up Y'all lives made up, like ugly hoes with make-up bra We'll shoot you up then toss yo ass in the lake tough nut My wrist rocky like Sylvester Stallone So thurr for you should invest in a vest for ya dome 'Cause I know you marks planning on getting me when I'm landing Peace to nick but my cannon go Fuck a medic, we gon' call yo ass a taxi cab Bleedin' so hard you'll need a life size maxi pad So flip the script and tell your woman it's your time on the month A.K. 47 for the niggaz Who's really looking for Heaven and a 9 for you chumps Got killaz in my squad and I'm the nicest one in my group But I got bananas for you niggaz and I ain't talking 'bout fruit I'll pay your cab back with the black mack Till your back crack, got the gat back like Clak clak clak Swallow a hallow make 'em digest with a 50 caliber Yo futures not looking so good, tomorrow's not on your calendar I, do away with the amateurs, they breathing too long I'll leave 'em coughing like the sound effects you hear in this song My shotguns are cold and hard, but my desert is easy And my triggers are always talking about Some squeeze me, squeeze me And for these fakers talking greezy, I'm starting the show My oozy got a drum roll, it goes They got no nerve They got no nerve They got no nerve ...