Lyrical Breakdown of Wat U On - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Wat U On" 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 "Wat U On" 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 "Wat U On" 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!

Tay Keith Run that back, Turbo Now I pull up in a foreign, foreign Javar said, "pick up that bag", right? If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Got some racks and keep a loaded gun Gunna Gunna, I'm a young Don Too many losses, yeah a nigga won She take that molly, drink that Sean Don Fly that private jet to Hong Kong I'm rocking BAPE and they like King Kong's Stack them racks up every day of the month If you ain't getting money, leave me 'lone, 'lone Make it rain, make it storm, storm Half a brick for the charm, charm Flooded AP on my arm, arm If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Half a million just to ride foreign If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Revenue touching my palms I hit up Moneybagg, we gotta go up I made a mansion, move my my niggas they stuff I balanced down and now I'm flying above I might hit Magic and go throw me a dub Pour some mud up, now I'm filled up with suds Locked with them and finally got me a buzz Golden child, niggas don't wanna touch You might can drip, but you don't drip it like us Designer down when I walk in the club So many blue hunnids, they thought I was cuz I'm balling, bitch Fuck [?] Blunt stuffed, looking just like a nub Don't try to come around when you get squeaked, can't fuck with no leech Me and Gunna on the way to yo city, two first class seats If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Got some racks and keep a loaded gun Gunna Gunna, I'm a young Don Too many losses, yeah a nigga won She take that molly, drink that Sean Don Fly that private jet to Hong Kong I'm rocking BAPE and they like King Kong's Stack them racks up every day of the month If you ain't getting money, leave me 'lone, 'lone Make it rain, make it storm, storm Half a brick for the charm, charm Flooded AP on my arm, arm If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Half a million just to ride foreign If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Revenue touching my palms I know some hittas that's ready to eat, right now as I speak (right now, right now) I'm dripping, I'm leaking, I'm flashing my teeth, right now as I speak (I'm iced out by Johnny) I used to trap off the back porch (backyard) Now I got stamps on my passport (global) I used to walk in the front door (then what?) Finesse 'em and run out the back door (gone) We the bosses, you can't boss over us Get put in coffin, no more losses for us Too many foreigns, nothing but options for us The Spyder white with the pecan guts I'ma ride, I'm the one you can trust Homicide niggas stay in the cut I came a long way from serving that dust Too many shows, a young nigga booked up If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Got some racks and keep a loaded gun Gunna Gunna, I'm a young Don Too many losses, yeah a nigga won She take that molly, drink that Sean Don Fly that private jet to Hong Kong I'm rocking BAPE and they like King Kong's Stack them racks up every day of the month If you ain't getting money, leave me 'lone, 'lone Make it rain, make it storm, storm Half a brick for the charm, charm Flooded AP on my arm, arm If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Half a million just to ride foreign If you ain't getting money, what you on, on? Revenue touching my palms Damn, Denaro