Lyrical Breakdown of West Coast Shit - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "West Coast Shit" 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 "West Coast Shit" 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 "West Coast Shit" 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!

(Bongo By The Way) (Mustard on that beat, hoe) Look Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke) In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west coast) (Huncho on that west coast shit, woo) (Left wrist, both wrists, and some bricks, woo) If the opps is in the spot, red dot 'em (rah) Somebody call batman, I'm robbin' (brrt) (I got 'em, smoke, I pop 'em) (Put the bitch on Prada, now she proper) Ha, T-Raww, I'm on some west coast shit (yeah) Lafeezy, live on the sunset strip (yeah, T-raww) Today was a good day, fly as a blimp (aight, ah, ah) I just booked a round trip, I don't argue with the bitch (no) And my Spanish bitch talk spicy with the lips When the car worth a M, you don't gotta touch the rim Don't ask me the price, cost an arm, leg, and limb (yeah, ayy) When you in the light, niggas wanna steer you dim (bit') Where you get that from? Niggas gotta say it's him Wanna copy my flow? I switch this shit again Niggas ain't put the work, they don't celebrate the win When you was ballin' with your bitch I was shootin' in the gym, motherfucker, ah Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke) In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west coast) (Huncho on that west coast shit, woo) (Left wrist, both wrists, and some bricks, woo) If the opps is in the spot, red dot 'em (grrah) Somebody call batman, I'm robbin' (brrt) (I got 'em, smoke, I pop 'em) (Put the bitch on Prada, now she proper) Christian Louboutins like I stepped in pasta But, I'll still steam his ass, hot grabba I'm in that new Dior, Quay in that Prada Don't get it confused, I'll drop him Four door niggas ridin' strap, get straight hacked to the back We don't play disrespect, real talk this not just rap Gang ties in my tat, 22's in the shed Shotgun in my bag, knock off a nigga dreads 36 karats on my wrist That mean there's 36 karats on my bitch (woo) Shoutout Virgil, got me drippin' And it's straight from the faucet in the kitchen Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke) In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west coast) (Huncho on that west coast shit, woo) (Left wrist, both wrists, and some bricks, woo) If the opps is in the spot, red dot 'em (grrah) Somebody call batman, I'm robbin' (brrt) (I got 'em, smoke, I pop 'em) (Put the bitch on Prada, now she proper) (Quavo) West side, North side, yessir (yessir) East side, South side, let's go to work (go to work) Right hand in the air, let's pop a Perc' (pop a Perc') New coupe off the lot, skrrt in the dirt (skrrt) She came in last place, she can get a shirt (get a shirt) If she go to first place, baby, get a purse (purse) Cook it in the left hand, whip it in reverse (whip it) Dead man in the hearse when the gang purge (uh) 500K on the wrist (ice), look at me scorin' your bitch (woo) My diamonds close and they kiss, the skelly came with a fish (woo) I catch a playoff assist, now watch it jump out the pit (uh) I can't get caught in the mix I make a hit, I can't miss (hit) Pop Smoke, I'm on some west coast shit (Pop Smoke) In New York, I got a west coast bitch (west coast) (Huncho on that west coast shit, woo) (Left wrist, both wrists, and some bricks, woo) If the opps is in the spot, red dot 'em (grrah) Somebody call batman, I'm robbin' (brrt) (I got 'em, smoke, I pop 'em) (Put the bitch on Prada, now she proper)