Lyrical Breakdown of Tampering With Evidence - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Tampering With Evidence" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Moneybagg Yo weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Tampering With Evidence" 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 Moneybagg Yo 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 Moneybagg Yo's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Tampering With Evidence" not only celebrates Moneybagg Yo'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!

(Dubba-AA) (DJ Swift on the track) Police lock us up 'cause they don't understand the way we live Interrogating us all for hours, we ain't telling what we did I was way up in New York when they broke in Montana crib Somebody told them we was gone, yeah, I know what it is Some nigga 'round me tryna snake me, probably tryna get me killed Shooters trilling on my real nigga, this the way we live Seem like they started hating when they heard I got a deal Momma told me that my cousin died, I ain't shed a tear If it wasn't for Montana, I'd have juvenile life Shackled down in Paris prison, I was fightin' for my life Smoking weed and toting guns, Willie and Ben every night Now the judge don't want me 'round him, I know it's gon' be alright Step on a nigga for that talkin' Now the police buildin' cases on me They know we 'bout it If you a gangsta, keep that shit in the streets Strapped with that .40, I heard a nigga want it with me I'll put a nigga straight to sleep, he think he fuckin' with me They say that they want smoke Where them poles? We gon' ride nigga Steppin' with my bros, right or wrong, you gon' die nigga I put that on my soul, we ain't hidin' nigga I just wanna know, who got a problem nigga? When my grandma died, made me wonder, who gon' do for me? I don't trust nobody, make me wonder, who gon' shoot for me? I ain't got no nigga with me, just my girl and this coupe with me Sincerely from my heart, I'ma tell you 'bout it truthfully I know I'm gon' die, no, I do not have that long on earth Swear I need a blessin', man I need to take my ass to church Put your pistol in the sky when you see me passin' in my hearse I really don't feel love, man I swear to God this shit hurt And I know they gon' cry the same day I go Tell my son, come to my casket and leave me a rose Call on Ben and Three, promise me you'll never fold Stand on all ten and don't never put your trust in hoes Whoa-oh They don't understand the way we live, whoa-oh They don't understand the way we live, whoa-oh