Welcome to the detailed analysis of "B.O.B. - Bombs Over Baghdad" 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 "B.O.B. - Bombs Over Baghdad" 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 "B.O.B. - Bombs Over Baghdad" 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!
One, two, one, two, three
Yeah, inslumnational underground
Thunder pounds, when I stomp the ground (woo)
Like a million elephants or silverback orangutans
You can't stop a train
Who wants some? Don't come unprepared
I'll be there, but when I leave there
Better be a household name
Weatherman tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
So now we sittin' in a droptop, soakin' wet
In a silk suit tryin' not to sweat
Hittin' somersaults without the net
But this'll be the year that we won't forget, the 1-9-9-9
Anno Domini, anything goes
Be what you want to be, long as you know
Consequences are given for living the fence is
Too high to jump in jail, too low to dig
I might just touch hell, hot
Get a life, now they on sale
Then I might cast you a spell
Look at what came in the mail
A scale and some Arm & Hammer
Soul gold grill, and a baby mamma
Black Cadillac and a pack of pampers
Stack of questions with no answers
Cure for cancer, cure for AIDS
Make a nigga want to stay on tour for days
Get back home, thangs are wrong
Well, not really, it was bad all along
Before your left, adds up to a ball of power
Thoughts at a thousand miles per hour
Hello, ghetto, let yo' brain breathe
Believe there's always mo', ow
Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang
(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) yeah, ha, ha, yeah
Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) yeah, ah
Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang
(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) ha, ha, ha, yeah
Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah)
Uno, dos, tres, it's on
Did you ever think a pimp rock a microphone?
Like that there, boy and we still stay street
Big things happen every time we meet
Like a track team, crack fiend, dyin' to geek
Outkast bumpin' up and down the street
Slant back Cadillac, 'bout five niggas deep
75 MC's freestylin' to the beat
'Cause we get crunk, stay drunk at the club
Should've bought an ounce, but you copped a dub
Should've held back, but you throwed a punch
'Posed to meet your girl, but you packed a lunch
No D to the U to the G for you
Got a son on the way, by the name of Bamboo
Got a little baby girl, four year Jordan
Never turned my back on my kids for them
Should've hit it, quit it, rag top
Before you re-up, get a laptop
Make a b'ness for yourself, boy set some goals
Make a fat diamond out of dusty coals
Record number four, but we on the road
Hold up, slow up, stop, control
Like Janet, planet Stankonia's on ya
Movin' like Floyd, comin' straight to Florida
Lock all your windows, then block the corridors
Pullin' off my belt, 'cause a whipping's in order
Like a three piece fish, 'fore I cut your daughter
Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border
Pitty-pat rappers tryin' to get the five
I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to stay alive
When you come A-T-L, boy, you better not hide
'Cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, ha-ha
Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang
(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) ah, yeah
Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) ah, yeah
Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang
(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) y'all over, yeah
Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah)
Bombs over Baghdad, yeah
Bombs over Baghdad, yeah
Bombs over Baghdad, yeah
Bombs over Baghdad, yeah
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Bob your head, rag top
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival
Power music, electric revival