Lyrical Breakdown of Black Folks - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Black Folks" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Nas weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Black Folks" 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 Nas 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 Nas's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Black Folks" not only celebrates Nas'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!
Wha', wha', yeah!
I ain't seen as much death, nor seen as much crime
Since the blackout in Queensbridge in '79
Everybody's a killer now; pimps, players, and dons
Shorties on the block push drops and carry on
Niggas look through our window wherever we drove
Through the tint, to see if the Benz is matching the clothes
We the queens kings, I used to view the cats that are old
Seeing things that made me real from my skin to my soul
Girls who turned hoes, friends who turned foes
Bad luck niggas who bring death wherever they go
Never sleep, it feels better to know
It's all real though
Everything is real
Where we headed now?
Up to more money, would be more fun
Leave with more bitches, carry more guns
Where we headed now? Where we going, yo?
It's getting real, son, we gon' let it flow
Where we more bitches, it be more dough
It be more fun, holding more
How the hell are we supposed to excel from the street
Where the Jake's crew face young kids who wanna eat?
Quantum Leap to this black world, hustlers and ghettos
Self-made millionaires who tussle with the devil
Bust a little metal lead, wrestle you, to the pebbles
On the hard ground, that's if your guard down
It's a struggle, brothers jump bail
To come chill with they niggas on the block, with them rocks for sale
On the horn with the god Shapelle, my queen's comrade
Yo, run and come in with the dime bag
Ayo, I need that, I got to smoke dat
Send me some Chunky Black, so I could smoke away the pain
Try to find my brain, but the thought still remain
Yo, it's on again once the death stunts these chains
'Cause I been through it; the drug game, I thought I knew it
I got knocked, took it to trial, but I blew it
25, but only lived 20 years of my life
Took five from me; got me wrapped up like a mummy
Now I'm in the system, a.k.a. the devil's home
Where they tell you where to eat, sleep, shit, and use the phone
Now I'm living with, drug dealers, and chain stealers
Bitch niggas who got knocked and turned squealers
Imagine, sharing a cell with a rehabilitated addict
Who love fucking with faggots, but I civilized the savage
I sat him down and made him study mathematics
Now I'm sitting in the cell thinking
About this reefer I'ma get this weekend
On the V.I, I rather be, uhm, damn, damn!