Lyrical Breakdown of Crutches, Crosses, Caskets - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Crutches, Crosses, Caskets" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Pusha T weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Crutches, Crosses, Caskets" 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 Pusha T 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 Pusha T's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Crutches, Crosses, Caskets" not only celebrates Pusha T'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!

Yeah Uh-huh Beautiful evils Yeah Check me out Crutches, crosses, caskets Crutches, crosses, caskets All I see is victims My young niggas sic' 'em I don't get 'em I just get back their jewelry if I'm fuckin' with 'em Your man crush Mondays be owin' niggas My skin is triple black, I'm the omen You can't kill a God like the Romans, uh Take my time to craft shit 'Cause I don't like back and forths with Puff about rap shit Crutches, crosses, caskets Crutches, crosses, caskets All I see is victims Rappers is victimized at an all-time high But not I, you pop niggas thought I let it fly I'm Yasiel Puig, I'm in another league I defected, only thing we have in common, niggas bleed In ya thousand dollar joggers as you rhyme about ya dollars Is there shame when a platinum rapper's mother lives in squalor? Mildred's in the Bahamas for the month She's probably sitting in her pajamas having lunch Swordfish, my reality is more fish Banana clips for all you Curious Georges Old niggas slapping young niggas Ha Imagine that, where you from nigga? Crutches, crosses, caskets Crutches, crosses, caskets All I see is death by the masses The only asterisk is the change of address My infinity pool as long as Magic's Yeah I let Zillow change my pillows The home is so inviting, the Porsche is the armadillo The silhouette The pop, pop, pop; the chop, chop, chop The throwaway TEC's got Tourettes It's more than this drug money, I love money I speak to your soul and that's above money This the ministry of street energy The church of criminology, teaching my chemistries Woo I'm the L. Ron Hubbard of the cupboard To some certain motherfuckers gotta love it Crutches, crosses, caskets Crutches, crosses, caskets All I see is victims Crutches, crosses, caskets Crutches, crosses, caskets All I see is victims