Lyrical Breakdown of 100 Hunit - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "100 Hunit" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Meek Mill weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "100 Hunit" 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 Meek Mill 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 Meek Mill's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "100 Hunit" not only celebrates Meek Mill'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!
I promised Ricky and Milly that I'ma kill it
Running throw up them digits on Dallas, homie I'm Emmitt
I'm running I'm so 100 with every nigga I run with
Tell them niggas we coming, we fucking it up this summer
And I'm stunting like it ain't nothing, most of these niggas fronting
I pull this Rolly from Travi, and I got this Beamer from nothing
If they ain't talking bout paper, just tell them end of discussion
And now that I'm getting money, my neighbors turn to my cousins
Gold bottles, lot of bitches
Didn't think I'm sorry I'm such a shallow nigga
The mind on me just shine on them, you shadow women
Went out with rats you niggas should be in glass slippers
Ha, and I don't ever ask the price on it
Married to the money hater, throw some rice on it
I told my jeweler get my Mueller, throw some mimes on it
I treat that pussy like its Tina, I go Ike on it
Beat it up, I'm getting heated up
When I say I'm high, I ain't talking weed it up
Bitch I'm talking G5, Titobero, feet is up,
Beaters on my sneakers, even though I never be with Dex
B and me, train hi up
He lying I'm on papers
But when I beat this shit off, Ima go and buy some Lakers
Yea I'm talking bout that Cali kush, We can work in bolly push
Two bad bitches in the back, they prettier than ratty look
Bitch I'm hot as Wasabi in Abu Dhabi
In a sauna with some models who treat it like edamame
I ain't thugging, I ain't robbing, I'm puffing on my broccoli
Doing 100 in a bucket, be like 20 in a 'rari
And I'm back on this shit again, Pressie blue like Michigan
I put on for my city I should ball with Vick and them
When I get my D12 I'ma be a Sixer then
Riding round with Looney and your sister and your sister's friend
Hold up
Got the fridgedest temperature on my wrist again
Trying to shit the niggas is like giving children ritalin
Bobo sitting in the front, see you in a minute yo
And them haters went away as soon as I left Interscope
Big money, I'm talking bad hoes
You niggas full of shit, fucking assholes
I'm in this presidential suite, I'm in my bathrobe
Counting 100 grand I pulled in from my last show
Shitting on them, something I ain't mean to do
These hoes do anything, our wish is like a genie do
A nigga by a point, here take the nina too
I get a chick to come and serve you like Serena do
I think its genius when Lena do you in a group
Stunting, I'm in the sixth, I call that shit middle school
High as shit, I'm in a booth
Never nag them, Ima choose
And I don't gotta front, I play these niggas like I wish 'em to
This is where the Wizards play, this is where them bitches play
Weed a have you falling, and now you scraping up that Kemba shape
The day a hater treat a nigga like he fake,
That be the day his label treat him like his signal fade
And I'm balling bitch, I'm balling bitch
Me Wale, so hard, this shit
Get your money budget back, fire all your artists-ess
We be burning everything, they label us as arsonists
If I ain't middle of the trap, I'm 106 and parkin' it