Lyrical Breakdown of Simon Says - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Pharoahe Monch weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Simon Says" 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 Pharoahe Monch 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 Pharoahe Monch's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Simon Says" not only celebrates Pharoahe Monch'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!

Get the fuck up, Simon says get the fuck up Throw your hands in the sky Queens is in the back sippin' Yak y'all what's up? Girls, rub on your titties Yeah, I said it, rub on your titties New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that Act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty Y'all know the name Pharoahe-fuckin'-Monch, ain't a damn thang changed You all up in the Range, then your shit's inebriated Phased from your original plan, you deviated I alleviated the pain with a long-term goal Took my underground loot without the gold You sold platinum round the world, I sold wood in the hood But when I'm in the street, then shit it's all good I'm soon to motivate the room, control the game like Tomb Raider Roc-clock dollars flip, tips like a waiter Style's greater, let my lyrics anoint If you holdin' up the wall, then you missin' the point Get the fuck up Simon says get the fuck up Put your hands to the sky Brooklyn in the back shootin' craps now what's up? Girlies, rub on your titties Fuck it I said, rub on your titties New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that Act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty (Yo, where you at?) Uptown let me see 'em Notorious for the six-fives and the BM's Heads give you beef, you put 'em in the mausoleum And the shit don't start pumpin' 'til after 12 p.m. Ignorant minds, I free 'em If you tired of the same old everyday you will agree I'm the most obligated, hard and R-Rated Stated to be the best, I must confess the star made it Some might even say this song is sexist-es 'Cause I asked the girls to rub on their breast-eses Whether you're ridin' the train or in Lexus-es This is for either or Rollies or Timex-eses Wicked like Exorcist, this is the joint You holdin' up the wall Then you missin' the point Get the fuck up Simon says get the fuck up Throw your hands in the sky The Bronx is in the back shootin' craps, now what's up? Girlies, rub on your titties I said, rub on your titties New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that Act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty New Jeru, get the fuck up Shaolin, get the fuck up Long Isle, get the fuck up Worldwide, get the fuck up