Lyrical Breakdown of Break 'Em Off Somethin' - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Break 'Em Off Somethin'" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Master P weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Break 'Em Off Somethin'" 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 Master P 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 Master P's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Break 'Em Off Somethin'" not only celebrates Master P'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!
(Master p)
Boy, we about to fill they motherf**king head up with this ghetto dope
Time to break these hoes off somethin'
Got my niggas bun b., pimp c, I mean u.g.k
Done hooked up with master p
We about to bring this shit across the border
Ya heard me, from texas to new orleans
Hustler, baller, gangsta, cap-pealer
Who I be, your neighborhood drug dealer
A young nigga thats bout it, I mean these no limit soldiers
We get rowdy
I got something for y'all haters (something for y'all hater)
Y'all can't fade us
Ghetto cheese and drug deals thats what's made us
Now I'm space-aged pimping but not eightball
Don't make me get stupid and leave your f**king blood on the wall
Bout' to go physco, and load this rifle
I'm from the projects where we all think alike though
And killing ain't nothing but a hobby
Don't me do a f**king 187 robbery
And like some brand new jordans, you tied up
You sound like a chicken so it's time to get plucked
By a gangsta, keep one up in the chamber
Don't make me wear your ass like some 85 wranglers
Now you all screwed up like dj skrew
Don't have my money, nigga f**k you and your boo
Got amphetamines for them dope fiends
Where I'm from a little town called new orleans
But blowing up like b-12
Niggas don't give a f**k cause they quick to send your ass to hell
The murder capital of the world
Where niggas don't give a f**k about you, your boy, or your girl
And if you come stunting on them gold thangs
I'm a have to break you off somethin'
(Hook)
Break you off somethin'
Don't make me break you off somethin' (x3)
(Pimp c)
Let me set the shit straight, let me lay down the rules
If a bitch is talking shit, then that bitch gonna have to snooze
Pimp c bitch now what the f**k you said
Ak hit the wall tore the stuffing out the f**king bed
I'm looking at dead, I'm fully auto
Tommorow I got court, I ain't gonna go
Nigga owe me money, thinking it's funny, bought a 64'
I'm bout to pull a kickdoe
I need mo money money mo money money
Took the keys, took the cheese, and f**ked his main hunny, hunny
Now the game is escalted, cause ain't no witnesses
To go back and tell the po-po's all the shit we did
I'm looking at rape, I'm looking at kidnap
But when them bitches get here you gonna be full of hot caps
I'm breaking them bitches off, putting 'em in the trunk
Riding around p.a bout-it hostages blowing skunk
Cause getting rid of enemies to me ain't really nothin' nothin'
Pimp c bitch 14-96'll break you off somethin'
Hook
(Bun b.)
We coming down like a sail, in that goddamn rover
Just when you thought it was the beginning
You bitch, now it's over
You can call on the calvary, reinforcements, and your local p-d
They getting somewhere if they see me
My nigga thats how these g's be we three, me c and master p
Sipping on gin and kiwi
F**k popping in your cd, bitch we popping in them clips
And now we all up in your grill live in 3-d
With drama, disaster, and death when you make me have to blast ya'
Y'all has to recognize you f**king with murder masters
Who plaster your ass and make your momma call a pastor
Dying faster than you thought, now that's your ass bro
It's the class of 9 scrilla on the for real'a
Direct from the villa of killas, now who thinking they trilla'
Watch me fill a wanna be cap pealer with them slugs
Probably for jaw jacking and jumping
Bitch don't make me break you off somethin' nigga