Lyrical Breakdown of 12 Problems - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "12 Problems" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Rapsody weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "12 Problems" 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 Rapsody 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 Rapsody's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "12 Problems" not only celebrates Rapsody'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, y'all bogus
Real goofy
I ain't never lost focus
Nah, y'all bogus
Yeah, the dark flesh Bob Mar'
Speak mine, what you thought dem 99 problems was?
War on drugs, legality
They got us on fallacies
Resorted in casualties
I was supposed to resort in the Maldives
Now, we in the rallies, now
Boxin' in IG now, boxin' like Ali
In the memory pourin' Hennessy and Bumbu shot reachin' for the ID
Get off my neck, nigga
'Less you a Cuban link ('less you a Cuban link)
I think like the Cubans (Like the Cubans)
Think you'll never get Assata back
Wе got ya back, T Mallory
Carry on like a Prada bag
My dogs wit like they quartеr lab
In the backseat of a patrol car
That's luck, they ain't call the coroner
Should be hall of fame, corridor (Corridor)
The way we run it back (The way we run it back)
You'd think it's 63 (63)
I'm thinkin' 60 3's (60 3's)
Hunnid and eighty degrees
Get ya shit straight, Mr. Police
Did the same thing to Cochise
Did the same thing to Rhaheem
Do the same thing in our reality, y'all bogus
I got 99 problems and 12 still the biggest
I got 99 problems
Baton, bullets, triggers
I got 99 problems and 12 still the biggest
I got 99 problems
Baton, bullets, triggers
Death come in threes
Every month March, every month March
33 Nip, gotta a heavy heart
His killer in jail, y'all don't get that part
Cops kill lawfully, no remorse
I don't wanna hear arguments, no more about black on black
When white on white
They kill they own too
And cops the only ones who ain't accountable
Black men in jail for a ounce or two
For us it's punishable (And they still ain't free)
Look at the weed business (Look at the weed business)
White man makin' booku (Booku) in Timbuktu (in Timbuktu)
Hope they praying at the mosque for us (hope they praying for us)
When you create your own (when your create your own)
You don't care what they top floor is
Y'all 13th superstition
We get a 13th amendment
We get a shot back without a shot
Back, take the shot back and vaccines
All we see is murder, murder, murder, murder
And you wonder why we gotta disorder?
Anxiety, ya die not passing sobriety
Atlanta, Georgia, that's some shit
I got 99 problems and 12 still the biggest
I got 99 problems
Baton, bullets, triggers
I got 99 problems and 12 still the biggest
I got 99 problems
Baton, bullets, triggers
You're never seen as a victim (Never seen as a victim)
Watch you run and walk miles in Michael Vick Tims
Been dogged out (Been dogged), no paws in house
No daddy, no papi
Who the kids gonna call now? (Who the kids gonna call?)
But you steady killin' they fathers left and right, our brothers
They tryna take you out (They can't take us out)
We don't die, we multiply
Black man, black woman, 12