Lyrical Breakdown of Sleepin' On Jersey - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Sleepin' On Jersey" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Naughty by Nature weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Sleepin' On Jersey" 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 Naughty by Nature 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 Naughty by Nature's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Sleepin' On Jersey" not only celebrates Naughty by Nature'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!

Naughty Naughty (yeah!) Word up Naughty (yeah!) Word up Naughty (yeah!) Word up Naughty (yeah!) Word up I'm takin' tricky routes in a Dickies suit, tougher than a trucker Harder as a bucko plus a ashy knuckle motherfucker 19 Naughty 1 through Naughty 9, I'm housin' Plus the year Treach Thousand Back trigger hap, did you figure that? With a bigger bat, with a rap tough as a nigga nap Tell him to drop through, hookers gettin' dropped too What do I think about you? Pac too And put it on a box and stamp it So I can FedEx your ass to Kansas I put a few blows in cargo So you could tongue twist your ass back to Chicago I'm servin' force, fightin' mighty hard I did too much to get real hip hop back to give it back y'all Took it to your face, took it to your chest Go and kiss your cutie with my nuts on her breath, yup! Listen up, the money is the lawn You're not just the man with damn money money Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control So here we go-oh A lot of ho's heard of me, won't murder me I had surgery, quick I had a doctor stitch a condom to my shit And it won't slay no bug spray, break, or bust If 5-O trouble, like a bubble, than I just double up Stare me up and down, try your luck around You could put your dick through a hula-hoop trope and couldn't fuck around Come try me on a slow day like no day A ho day like yo' day, ho hay take us nowhere I love you too, give me some loot Vin pushes an Ac, Kay pushes a van And Treach still pushes boots Just when you thought you wasn't bought I smack your ass with your court Then dump you in north Newark You's a motherfuckin' good sport Your own pain you bought, you did before you thought No one can act like they ain't heard of me, have mercy Now motherfuckers might stop sleepin' on Jersey Listen up the money is the lawn You're not just the man with damn money money Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control So here we go-oh We own the money funky style 20 drunken style gettin' fuckin' wild Some monkeys diss, talk shit, speak, and smile Sometimes I diss, sometimes I break Talk behind my motherfuckin' back, I'm takin' off your fuckin' face Roughneck, god you rudeboy You got jacked for ya ass get stuffed like a Cactus Now act like an actress Someone throws a show so they play musical mattress Never turn Charlie Good, turn burn Hollywood, burn Who the hell is concerned what the blacks earn? Not a motherfuckin' soul unless you sell your soul Or your record sales blow I ain't your everyday Tom or Tommy I ain't your boy, don't play me pac, don't play me boy The bad does dirt, the good gets hurt You could get murked, the hood comes first Waxin' that ass, fuck a car wash Turnin' your ass like a doorknob No one can act like they ain't heard of me Now motherfuckers might stop sleepin' on Jersey Listen up the money is the lawn You're not just the man with damm money money Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control So here we go-oh Yeah Naughty (word up)