Lyrical Breakdown of PTSD - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "PTSD" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Pop Smoke weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "PTSD" 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 Pop Smoke 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 Pop Smoke's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "PTSD" not only celebrates Pop Smoke'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 PTSD startin' to kick in so I gotta get high
Uh, uh, ayy
My PTSD startin' to kick in so I gotta get high
Trey shot that nigga out my car, so now I gotta get low
I ain't no city boy 'cause I love my bitch
Nigga, but that don't mean that I don't love my hoes
Niggas tried to smack me up so now I'm raising hell
Don't try and dap me lil' nigga, you are not my bro
Trey shot that nigga out my car, so now I gotta get low
They know we bend blocks, welcome to the party
Dot on the head of his only daughter
Then I dunk her head in that holy water
Niggas shootin', we gon' shoot back
Sittin' at the table like Tha Carter V
They know I'ma do you, aimin' for medulla
Cooler than a cooler, shooter with a shooter
AK on my shoulder like I'm Malcom X
'Cause I ain't goin' out like I'm Martin Luther
Go open up the door, nigga, I know you home
It's a hundred Crip niggas standing on your lawn
Give up that cheese, give that Provolone
And I ain't talkin' on the phone 'cause I ain't playin' with 'em
I got a K for the cuz if he hit you
If I call Nappy Blue, he come and get you
Call Dread, that's the new Tom Brady
'Cause he be sendin' shots like it's missiles
My PTSD startin' to kick in so I gotta get high
Trey shot that nigga out my car, so now I gotta get low
I ain't no city boy 'cause I love my bitch
Nigga, but that don't mean that I don't love my hoes
Niggas tried to smack me up so now I'm raising hell
Don't try and dap me lil' nigga, you are not my bro
Trey shot that nigga out my car, so now I gotta get low
They know we bend blocks, welcome to the party
Niggas always talkin' hot and runnin' they mouth
Until I kick down they door and run in they house
Have they mother on the floor with the gun in her mouth
Like what's that shit up on the 'net your son was talkin' 'bout?
I put that on my son that I'ma take it there
'Cause when you come from, where I come from, I ain't playin fair
My lil' homie die and I ain't drop a tear
I just rolled a spliff and put it in the air
I'm big 092, niggas know I'm Woo
I look a nigga in his face like "Who you talkin' to?"
I need 25K or I ain't walkin' through
I need 25K or I ain't walkin' through
I spent 20 on my wrist and 20 on a chain
I be spoiling myself so I can ease the pain
Digital dash, I be switching lanes
I was sitting on the bench, but now I'm in the game
My PTSD startin' to kick in so I gotta get high
Trey shot that nigga out my car, so now I gotta get low
I ain't no city boy 'cause I love my bitch
Nigga, but that don't mean that I don't love my hoes
Niggas tried to smack me up so now I'm raising hell
Don't try and dap me lil' nigga, you are not my bro
Trey shot that nigga out my car, so now I gotta get low
They know we bend blocks, welcome to the party