Lyrical Breakdown of Yall Don't Hear Me - Remix - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Yall Don't Hear Me - Remix" 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 "Yall Don't Hear Me - Remix" 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 "Yall Don't Hear Me - Remix" 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!
Yeah, Philly in this bitch
Loso waddup?
I'm from a city where the skinny niggas ride
With a Semi .45, make the biggest niggas fold up, roll up
I dunn seen the realest niggas froze up
When that Mac squeezing hollows leave your back, leaking that
Decent if you want to, everytime I come through
Everybody whispering, talking what they gon' do
Hundred grand in straight cash don't make me put it on you
And have your own homies trying to swarm you, I'm sworn to
Riding with this Glock .40 and I got it on, too
They tell me to put it down, but they don't know what I'm going through
Niggas playing checkers, and this is chess
So what's a pawn to a king that nigga got his money right
You niggas on a hunger strike
When I was dead-broke, man I used to grind a hundred a night
A hundred days selling white, I tell you it ain't nothing nice
I be going so hard, I don't see my son at night
Baby mama bitching, I'm just trying to get my young'un right
Started with a dollar, to a half a ticket
And I just signed my deal today for all you rapping niggas
Money ain't a joke, you see me laughing niggas?
All my goonies they ain't talking, they just clapping niggas
You gonna think my dog a roofer, brought a ladder with him
My other homie a mechanic, got his ratchet with him
And they shootin' for real, they shooting to kill
I got some homies up state, they doing the will
I remember niggas shooting for dear life
30 years on us, cops pull at the red lights
We riding with them hammers
Know a couple youngins that died before their grandma
Trying to play with hammers
A lot of niggas fronted back when I was in the slammer
But, now I got that paper in, and I be going bananas
Like Tony the Montana, Nino and the Carter
Got me leaning even harder with this Nina in my cargoes
I can't meet 'em any farther if the niggas want the work
Tell 'em meet me out North, 20 something and Berks
Used to be with 50 niggas, 20 of em got murked
20 of them turned pussy, the other 10 put in work
Yeah! I'm screaming "this is the life"
If you ain't hoopin' then you whipping the white
Or either hitting the white
I talked to 'em try to give them advice
Niggas get left, they wasn't living too right
Yeah, Uh, niggas get left, they wasn't living too right
Y'all don't really y'all don't really, Y'all don't really hear me though
Y'all don't really y'all don't really, Y'all don't really hear me though