Lyrical Breakdown of On The Real - Clean Album Version - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "On The Real - Clean Album Version" 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 "On The Real - Clean Album Version" 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 "On The Real - Clean Album Version" 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!
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) let's pay homage to Illmatic
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) let's put the crown where it's at
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) ten years never been done this real by nobody
To my seed, may I lead you into no greed or evil
In the categories of stories I breed my sequel
You know the money, blues, broken
Monkey see, monkey do, shorty sipping sunny dew
Now it's V.S.O.P. in a Phantom, mad smoky
Murder trees, cruising stash so it won't poke me
Up in the Trump Plaza, Suite 3010
Don't make no noise 'cause we dirty, tell 'em hurry in
We got the room lit up with perfume and mad boom
And there's video taping blooming on the zooming lens
Rollin' on you nondescript, you're marked for death
Like Colombians with bad that gyp
Tilt the, twisted up the uwee if you're skilled enough
In Will we trust, salute the dead mili busts
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) that verse is ten years old, nine and half years old
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) Street's Disciple
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) the rebirth comin' at you this year baby
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) it's on baby, yeah
To the hood, may this be the day that we pop them bottles
This is mandatory, what if there's not tomorrow?
You know the murder rate, jealousy, you heard 'em say
He say, she say, I'm 'bout cheddar, he don't deserve to make
Sipping clear liquor with, that talk sideways
Listening close, to every word in case they violate
Up in the projects Apartment 5D
Spark a lea' it's 'bout the reed, counting everything the block see
We 'bout to need to take the corners from them cowards
Get it on so y'all can move more coke powder, by the hour
Hold in case we gotta rip, loaded
Teflon coated projectiles'll flip
From ninth grade to lightweight to grams to my mans with in hand
Police vans, they missed the summers again
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
Yeah, power to the people, death to the phonies
This beast to the mic one two check, y'all fed-e-rallies on me
And they look like you approachin' me like how you, homie?
The F.B.I. see only one problem, they try to slump me
After the young black male 'cause he makes a lot of money
So hustlers make sales 'cause they deprived and hungry
My country hates that I could run free state to state with hunnies
While making cake with real golded plate rims on Humvees
The bush stroker, the smoker
Just when you thought it was over look over your shoulders
I'm 30 now, baby sip drinks and sip 'em slow
Motto no stress, smoking less than I did befo'
You see the kid was broke 'til I spitted vivid expressions
Of hard living ghetto children, of a lesser God
Religion was fast women, expensive cars
Y'all witnessin' over ten years, the best of Nas
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) yeah, Braveheart
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) yeah, IllWill wadup, yeah
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal) still here, it's crazy this year, y'all, my nigga
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)
(On the real, all you crab-crab know the deal)