Welcome to the detailed analysis of "How To Kill A Radio Consultant" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "How To Kill A Radio Consultant" 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
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Pusher of the button
Talkin' loud ain't sayin' nothin'
The mack of the format gettin' fat
It ain't funny 'cause my neighborhood is flowin' money
Thank God for the boulevard
They keep the motor runnin'
The rappers coincide wit' the tape flow
Bootleggers go inside and record the record low
They get me, get this, how can you freestyle?
Freestyle no styles free, except da radio
But the radio's controlled by the sucker move
Who moved away, got away after plannin' a getaway
And now he wanna play what he wanna play
An' got say on what is bumpin', of course he's gettin' somethin'
Never know what's good to tha neighborhood
I swear I never seen da sucker in my necka da wood
The ass is connected to the brain stem
Ah so I sing a simple song, so you can see the sucker in 'em
(Hello, hello, hello?) gone
(Hello, hello, hello?) gone
(Hello, hello, hello?) yo
My man ain't playing nothin' chuck, man
Hey, yo, I don't think ya heard me kid
My man ain't playin' nothin'
Hey, yo, I ain't playin' either, 'cause he ain't playin' nothin'
People got to make a call
To hear the yes, y'all
While the phone keep on ringin' you hear some singer singin'
Why don't dey play the jammy in the daytime?
People think it's slammin', plus the rhyme is hot an' got me tunin'
The afternoon is FM in the PM
If only they could see 'im out of town and not down, I think they'll dis him
Up goes the season, pop goes the weasel (hey)
Damn gimme rap, no band, I want some x-clan, I know dey even got it from the giddy
Stacked in the back
Only black radio station in the city
Programmed by a sucker in a suit
Has slick black hair, he don't even live here
Raps the number one pick, so I draft it
I don't give a damn about all the other demographics
When the quiet storm comes on, I fall asleep
What dey need is Arbitron on the fuckin' funky jeep
Too bad it's goin' on, in fact my word is bond
To pull a disappearin' act attack until he gone
The whacker jam he play, they pay 'im in a day
I don't think we gonna miss 'im, we don't need 'im anyway
(Hello, hello, hello?) gone
(Hello, hello, hello?) gone
(Hello, hello, hello?) gone
I don't know what you tryna do home
But yo, you tryna play us out, you know what I say?
'Cause you ain't playin' nothin'
I ain't playin' nothin' either, man, you know what I say?
I ain't playin', but you ain't playin'
Ay yo chuck, man
Wanna chuck to the Durag
I ain't playin', play somethin', man
Can I kick it?
Who the hell is on the radio?
Or who's behind?
Do you really think they'll mind
To play the funky jams that everybody wit'?
Some Def Jef or Ice T
Show they rollin' wit' the syndicate
Or can dey get funky wit' the underground?
Master ace get a taste
Bomb squad gettin' hard
Marley mart makin' hipper
Trax for Jack The Ripper
Pumpin' Eric B or Papa San
Dey rollin' wit' run
Did you think that ever? In fact, you thought they never
Controlled your soul
By a suit and a tie
And then you wonder why, why you never hear a rhyme
'Til I hear some King Sun, I say we do 'im 'til he's done
Yo, I say we do 'im 'til he's done, too, G
Yo chuck 'til he's done, done, G, come on G, yo
They know why I left the jam, you know what I say?
I know, I can't live without my radio