Lyrical Breakdown of Xplosion (feat. B-Real) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Xplosion (feat. B-Real)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how OutKast feat. B-Real weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Xplosion (feat. B-Real)" 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 OutKast feat. B-Real 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 OutKast feat. B-Real's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Xplosion (feat. B-Real)" not only celebrates OutKast feat. B-Real'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!

Hello Lord, it's me again I just wanna make love to the whole globe And all her girlfriends Now don't that make ya mind move Like smoke patterns, me on my way to Saturn wit' a bomb Nam-viet, Viet or Saudi Shawty I figure before the first gun blast, they know who gon' win Now won't that make us all fools, like class clowns Praying Private Ryan comes 'round Sound travels at one-thousand-one-thirty feet per second Niggas in the street they want it, hurry When niggas stop biting, that's when 3000 starts to worry A little knowledge from the college of wizard Ray Murray Answer quick, "Do you know what desire is?" (Huh?) Apparently not, that's why you get what you got Now answer this, "Do you know what fire is?" (Yeah!) The body of hot, the motivator of pots Snot, spit, shit are characteristics of release Ask your niece or nephew, you think we left you What the future holds in its sweaty palms Think I'm finna vom'? You move it like you mean it, she'll come Prom night might excite a down right fight like White blood cells to the common cold rebel Night gets jealous of day, play is no longer The feelin' gets stronger than ammonia sticks inhale We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed And we some home-made bombs Finna blow right up in your face Look at the way you look at me, I see it on your face All your hate emanates, but you still hesitate 'Cause you want inside of my head, but don't know how To brainwash me to be a commercial clown Fuck that, I see the way you were See the way you smirk I'm catching you where you work God only knows all the trouble that grows Deep beneath my soul dealing with you assholes Can I blast those who point the finger at me Who criticize and talk shit so freely Fuck XXL, you're a size too small I should hire Eminem so we can kill you all Whether you live to talk shit about the Real Then kiss my ass in person how much you love the Hill I'm the outcast coming to blaze the grass Outlaw due to my life that's come to pass Dré, pass me the glass of wine So I can pour it over my homies grave and mine For all those who fallen and answered when God was calling Jump into my ragtop and get all in I'm the bomb, planted in your car, why you frozen? Pop the tape in ignite the explosion The world is mine, the world is yours, the world is ours The world is lost, the world is tossed We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed And we some home-made bombs Finna blow right up in your face With a one-two punch, B-Real and André drop they verses Your homeboy Daddy Fat Sax playin' clean-up, so it worsens People and persons on the opposite teams, oh, yes, its curtains No bullets burpin', oh, just lyrically twerking, oh Making a statement when you freestyle and your mind is in a free state It's kinda hard to execute when you ain't feeling it that day Jumpin' the gun and rushing your flow Babbling on the mikie like auctioneer Got the public's ears fucked up, can't hear Atlanta, Georgia, where y'all at? (Right here) OutKast this Dirty South to death the Dungeon Family Camp Got this thang licked like stamps and nine-volt battery end caps Making that music that make your neck hurt And the beats that bother your back in my Cadillac Six woofers and four amps Lo pro vogues on swole, with the carriage lamps Diamond tucked velour pistol in my lap Come in peace, but then explode like boobie traps We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed Even if you pull the pin from your hand grenade We just can't be amazed And we some home-made bombs Finna blow right up in your face Do-do-do, do, do-do-do Do-do-do, do, do-do-do Do-do-do, do, do-do-do Do-do-do, do, do-do-do