Welcome to the detailed analysis of "The Set Up (feat. Havoc)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "The Set Up (feat. Havoc)" 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "The Set Up (feat. Havoc)" not only celebrates undefined'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!
Nas
Uhh. (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Q.B. since 1933 (no doubt)
To nine-six (nine-six motherfucker)
Check the shit
Nine-six, Escobar 600
Check the shit
My mind's set, son got wet, I'm vexed really
They snatched off his Rolex, smacked his bitch silly
Why niggas actin' illy? Word to Will, he 'bout to feel it
I feel it, he shoulda been dealt with it
Them niggas sour, they put to much flour in their coke
And got the nerve to wonder WHY THEY'RE BROKE
While we was gleamin', niggas was schemin'
Seen the ill Beamers beamin'
Triple-beam and doublin' cream had 'em fiendin'
To get they fingers on the dosa, I called Sosa
"Sosa, these niggas hit the God, bring the toaster
Meet me in the Bridge, I'm bout to go loca"
Left my rat beggin' me to stay and stroke her
He came through with two fly bitches, Venus and Vicious
With two MACs inside the Volvo, what up God, I'm still sober
I need some Henn to bend me over, my nigga Hav gotta soldier
It's gettin' down, it's goin' down kid (I got this, I got this)
I heard he might not live, I'm holdin' back tears
Told these broads to put it in gear
With two females that don't smile, diggin' they style, yo
What up son? These niggas done started somethin' wild
You know the clique well, Rhamel with the gold in his grill
Tried to get a name, holding the steel
I paid attention to the females
Maintained bitches when it get real
Sos' pulled me close and told me the deal
He said both hoes'll peel
Spray shots and reload and still handle the wheel
Point 'em out, smoke a Phil' then chill
I laid back, Escobar status
Knowin' The Firm got it cornered, we on it, shit we was born with
Spark the lye, Q.B.C. yo it's do or die
In this, business of trifeness
I finesse this, Boyardee, we chef shit
Perfect shit, Albert Einstein minds connect wit'
Dangerous sons, step back let the TEC lift
Lift you up, bless you with a shorty then we set you up
Spark the lye, Q.B.C. yo it's do or die
In this, business of trifeness
We finesse this, Boyardee, we chef shit
Perfect shit, Albert Einstein minds connect wit'
Dangerous sons, step back let the TEC lift
Lift you up, bless you with a shorty then we set you up
Hold it right there, pull over
That nigga right there inside the Rover
I knew he'd be right here, I told you
Let's get him now, look at him smile, ice Bulova
Polo pullover, big links and rockin' boulders
He's stuntin', after he left my man like that
Without a fair chance to fight back, but I'll be right back
He never seen us, Sos' gave the MAC to Venus
And Vicious, lookin' delicious, handle yo' business
And step to him, shake your ass, try to screw him
Do what ya gotta do to get to him
A tight Parasuco with young faces
Can turn niggas Buttafuoco, of all ages
They was amused by the way they walked, way they talked
Only if they knew these girls had sprayed New York
If they had to, heard him ask Venus, "Could I have you?"
He jumped out a Jeep, heard her tell him "Don't grab, boo"
They started chattin', was only bout a minute, flat when
They jumped in the back of the Jeep laughin'
We followed them pollyin', he thought the hoes were Somalian
Probably when they hit the Holiday Inn
I grabbed the phone and called the Mobb and them
We laid low about a hour or so, these bitches movin' too slow
We both holdin', what if them wild hoes started foldin'?
Sosa said "Say no more", we started rollin'
Before we got in they must have shot him, security wildin'
There the girls go, hurry up we out
In the 940, me, Sosa and two shorties
The punk niggas got murdered in the orgy
Spark the lye, Q.B.C. yo it's do or die
In this, business of trifeness
I finesse this, Boyardee, we chef shit
Perfect shit, Albert Einstein minds connect wit'
Dangerous sons, step back let the TEC lift
Lift you up, bless you with a shorty then we set you up
Q.B.C., Queensbridge motherfucker
Roping niggas up
Cause our clique is thick
Another day, another dollar
More money, more murder
Fuck this shit, Q.B. up in the house