Lyrical Breakdown of 100 Racks - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "100 Racks" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Playboi Carti weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "100 Racks" 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 Playboi Carti 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 Playboi Carti's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "100 Racks" not only celebrates Playboi Carti'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!
My first hunnit racks (Hunnits)
I blew it by the rack (Blew it)
Then I took off the hat (Hat)
Had to Dior the bag (Dior)
No books, this a mag
Shoot it out, fuck a badge
I was down to my last (Last)
I remember my past (Woo)
Put it up, got packs in the house (Bando)
Get slapped with a stack, watch your mouth
These hoes get passed (Pew pew)
Get slapped with the racks to the mouth
Wit' them racks you get slapped (Slapped)
And this bitch want my mans
'Bout to play with these bands (Play with them, play with them)
'Bout to play with these bands, hold up (Yeah)
You can't come to the land
Got that bitch in my hand (Bitch, bitch)
That muhfucka' gon' dance
That muhfucka' gon' dance, yeah (Yeah)
Livin' gone like Xan'
We been gone like Xan'
We not kickin' shit
No, we not friends
But I set these trends (Trends)
Put a bitch in the Benz
Dirty money got cleansed (Cleansed)
Diamonds jumpin' out the gym
She invite her friends (Friends)
They my type, all tens
And my drip European (Drip)
I done put diamonds on my lens (Woo)
My first hunnit racks (Hunnits)
I blew it by the rack (Blew it)
Then I took off the hat (Hat)
Had to Dior the bag (Dior)
No books, this a mag
Shoot it out, fuck a badge
I was down to my last (Last)
I remember my past (Woo)
Put it up, got packs in the house (Bando)
Get slapped with a stack with the mount
These hoes get passed (Pew pew)
Get slapped with the racks to the mouth
Niggas don't want no money, want clout
Don't sit, there's a stick in the couch
Get a man, get 'em in, get 'em out
Now my grandma lookin' down proud
My kids not worried 'bout a drought
Baguettes in the teeth, down South
Richard Mille wrist, cost a house
Put the double-R truck en route
I go straight out to Mars, valet my car
Trap guitar, straight out the Nawf
Losin' my mind, I can't think
Fye that bitch up, we gon' blank
I go three hard in the paint
It get hot on the Perc', 'bout to faint
Swimmin' with sharks in the tank
You best not drown, when I pop this pint
Pour it in the clouds, hope that shit don't stink
My first hunnit racks (Hunnits)
I blew it by the rack (Blew it)
Then I took off the hat (Hat)
Had to Dior the bag (Dior)
No books, this a mag
Shoot it out, fuck a badge
I was down to my last (Last)
I remember my past (Woo)
Put it up, got packs in the house (Bando)
Get slapped with a stack watch your mouth
These hoes get passed (Pew pew)
Get slapped with the racks to the mouth
Wit' them racks you get slapped (Slapped)
And this bitch want my mans
'Bout to play with these bands (Play with them)
'Bout to play with these bands