Lyrical Breakdown of Pray For Em - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Pray For Em" 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 "Pray For Em" 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 "Pray For Em" 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!
DC, unos, dos, tres, cuatro
Free El Chapo!
Fuck your bitch, get a bag from her, then I never call her
Now she trippin', goin' crazy, nigga tell her let up off us
OGs see me comin' through and they say, "That's a baller"
That's that nigga really started from the bottom really in that order
Make a call, bring them plans down
Smokin' loud like surround sound
Niggas wanna come around now
'Cause they know that Meek Milly got the crown now
Put my mask on, put the crown down
Tell 'em turn up
When it come to action, niggas ride with me
Screamin' murder
Niggas fallin' off, bitches fallin' through
Callin' plays like an audible
Get that money, what you oughta do
Need a plug? I can make a call or two
Put you on, nigga, put you on, I can put you on
What you doin', nigga, what you doin', nigga, what you doin'?
Get the bag but I'm way triller
You around 'cause you paid niggas
In the dark really spray niggas
When we run into you, we ain't playin' with you
Meek put a rapper on CNN
Niggas said I wouldn't eat again
I just counted 5 mil' in cash
I'm a real nigga they won't see again
Pray to my God we don't go to the feds
We don't go to the feds
I pray all that money don't go to my head
Don't go to my head
I pray on my Glock when I'm goin' to bed
When I'm goin' to bed
Now pray for the suckas that wanted me dead
'Cause all of 'em dead! Fuck 'em
People locked me, put them chains on me
Wonder why I got these chains on me
Audemars, I got a Range on me
Shit a hundred thousand ain't a thing to me
What's your range, homie? This another level
Flood the Rollie, get another bezel
She don't dig me, get another shovel
Go and get the money, we don't ever settle
Went to jail, came back home, then I got rich, damn
Went to jail again, then I came home then I got Nick, damn
Niggas prayin' that I go to jail again so they can pop shit, damn
Only trap nigga doin' real numbers spittin' hot shit
Niggas hatin' 'cause my numbers down, what'd you do, 50?
20 somethin', I did 250
MAC 11 hit you 20 times, now you Harlem Shaking like you Diddy
Pop niggas spittin' melodies when it's really nothin' they can do with me
Ballin' on 'em ain't new to me, fuckin' bitches ain't new to me
Summers, summers
10 summers I've been at the tempo like I'm Mustard
At the Grammys with the hustlers
With the trappers, you a busta
Spillin' lean on the red carpet
Phone tapped, I hear the feds talkin'
Still trappin' out the bando
Moonwalkin' on that damn marble
Ballin', ballin', ballin', ballin', ballin'
Ballin' on 'em like I'm James Harden
I don't drive it if it ain't foreign
I don't fuck it if it ain't foreign
Still eatin' and I ain't tourin', nigga gettin' it
Got that ladder with me with the 33, I'm Scottie Pippen it
Pray to my God we don't go to the feds
We don't go to the feds
I pray all that money don't go to my head
Don't go to my head
I pray on my Glock when I'm goin' to bed
When I'm goin' to bed
Now pray for the suckas that wanted me dead
'Cause all of 'em dead! Fuck 'em
Ballin', ballin', ballin', ballin', ballin'
Ballin' on 'em like I'm James Harden
I don't drive it if it ain't foreign
I don't fuck it if it ain't foreign
Still eatin' and I ain't tourin', nigga gettin' it
Got that ladder with me with the 33, I'm Scottie Pippen it