Lyrical Breakdown of 10A - 87.1 - Sombody Done Fucked Up - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "10A - 87.1 - Sombody Done Fucked Up" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Method Man weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "10A - 87.1 - Sombody Done Fucked Up" 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 Method Man 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 Method Man's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "10A - 87.1 - Sombody Done Fucked Up" not only celebrates Method Man'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... one-two, one-two, it's Big M-E-F
The phenom from Vietnam, fresh out of rehab, yo
On my way the weedspot, haha, what's good?
Fuck that, what's hood? Staten Island Advance
Big up to my man Magic down in MIA, what up cuzo?
Knock-knock, who is it, ah shitted
Hot peas and butter, come and get it
Somebody done fucked up, now
Meth spit it, I comes with it
Quick to tell these critics, eat a did-ick
Somebody done fucked up, now
Y'all done did it, done stepped in it
Now run and tell them niggas who the realest
Somebody done fucked up, now
Can you dig it, you'll never stop the kid up in the fitted
Live with it, somebody done fucked up
Look, I'm cutting corners on these clowns, marijuana and pounds
Found with Staten Island niggas that run up on you with rounds
Take a drag, pass it around, guess who back in your town
And the crowd vict', with Officer Brown patting him down
Shit's thick, thick as harmony grits, cuz with some thugs
Ain't no, harmony bitch, them niggas probably snitch
Y'all be the judge, look what happened to Cocheese
What happens when your co-d's is talking to police, you dig?
Half a cig, let me fuck with ya wig, although you loving the style
They're ain't a pedophile could fuck with the kid
Now that I'm back up on my, feet, take it back to the streets
In the GM with your BM, in the passenger seat
Riding hood, by my hood, ain't no hike in the wood
Life is good, it's so good, live it twice if I could
Man, it's me, once again it's that Wu-Tang
Crushing the shit that you bring, you know how we do things
Yo, pulling my shoes up, scuffing my Timbs, back to when?
Puffing again, who stunting, cops fucking with them
Feeling the blow, goosebumping the skin, and on the scale
Of nothing to ten, a ten, man, it's nothing to him
See you can tell by how I'm clutching
My pen, like Mae Weather touching her chin
She stunting, going up in her friend
Tell the label give me something to spin, and every light got a price
You want a slice, but we ain't cutting you in
Man, these fiends know my past work,
Held a monkey until they back hurt
Money talking, wonder what that's worth
And MCF, mean Cash First shit, picture the kid
On the beach in Hawaii, minus the grass skirt
Blast first, ask questions last
Black herse, nigga, stretch yo ass, y'all niggas know what this is
It's New Yitty, this ain't just a fad
It's M-E-F, and I ain't Biggie, but I'm just as Bad, Boy
Yeah, Big M-E-F, Staten Island Advance, motherfuckers
Word up, don't ever count me out, just count me the fuck in
I'll be back for more...