Lyrical Breakdown of Simon Says (instrumental) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Simon Says (instrumental)" 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 (instrumental)" 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 (instrumental)" 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!
Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh
Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh
Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh
Uh-uh, uh, ahh
Get the fuck up
Simon says, "Get the fuck up"
Throw your hands in the sky (buh-buh-buh-buh-buh)
Queens is in the back sipping 'gnac, y'all, what's up?
Girls, rub on your titties (yeah)
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 (uh)
Pharoahe fuckin' Monch, ain't a damn thing changed (uh)
You all up in ya Range and shit, inebriated (uh huh)
Strayed from your original plan, you deviated
I alleviated the pain with long-term goals
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 and shit, it's all good
I'm soon to motivate a room, control the game like Tomb Raider
Rock, clock dollars, flip tips like a waiter
Block shots, style's greater, let my lyrics anoint
If you holding up the wall, then you missin' the point
Get the fuck up
Simon says, "Get the fuck up"
Put your hands to the sky (buh-buh-buh-buh-buh)
Brooklyn in the back shooting craps now, what's up?
Girlies, rub on your titties (yeah)
Yeah, fuck it, I said rub on your titties (uh huh)
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 BMs
Heads give you beef, you put 'em in the mausoleum
And shit don't start pumping 'til after 12 PM
Uh, 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
Slated 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 riding the train or a Lexus-es
This is for either or Rollies or Timex-eses
Wicked like Exorcist, this is the joint
You holding up the wall then you missing the point
Get the fuck up
Simon says, "Get the fuck up"
Throw your hands in the sky (buh-buh-buh-buh-buh)
The Bronx is in the back shooting craps now, what's up?
Girls rub on your titties (yeah)
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 Jeruz, get the fuck up
Shaolin (yeah) get the fuck up
Long Isle (come on) get the fuck up
Worldwide (come on, come on) get the fuck up