Lyrical Breakdown of Gunplay - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Rick Ross weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Gunplay" 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 Rick Ross 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 Rick Ross's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Gunplay" not only celebrates Rick Ross'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!

I'm sittin at the table, countin' my money Ain't where I wanna be but I got a few hundreds A lot of talk on the streets like a nigga crossin' me Well, that's somethin' I gotta see Is it how my chain swings? Tired of ma face Tellin' lies, getting niggas wives tied up and raped Similar to da mob, deeper than a rap All you niggas gettin' robbed, all the cell phones tapped Bullet in my head, bullet in my chest Yeah, they want a nigga dead, they envy my success To be loved, to be loved, oh what a feelin' Hundred rounds in da drum Niggas gettin whacked, no sympathy for the soft Niggas snitchin', I know bitches who clippin' your dick off I'ma boss champagne with the steak Pink rose jay sittin' ace by da case Brisco line, 2 young niggas, what it do He gotta pretty shone and he wanna bring her through That's love, we go back to the blue house And if she bad enough, may take her to da new house My Maserati be da new body Got your girl panties wetter than a pool party I got her sleepin' in the king size Last night I had tha bitch sittin' ring side You wanna go that route, go there I been on this road before (Uh, huh) I know gunplay, you know gunplay (Yeah) I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss Both bags on the tip on my finger Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron (Dat iron) When I'm swingin' dat iron (Dat iron) Ain't thinkin' 'bout time Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine Ain't thinkin' bout dying My nigga so street, my swisha so sweet All this money on the table, how a nigga gon' sleep Speculations on my deal, it was over ten mil Blowin' herb, chauffer plus home in New Zeal through Beat the case like Gotti, we the Trill Murder Inc I erased, slip and slide, they rainy in the mink Look dead in her eye, it's da end of the road In the purple Maybach means dat I'm getting' more dough Smell the Christian Dior, I used to be poor When you cross Florida lines, boy, I'm your leor Boobi Boys steal, Boobi Boy's real You can name a lot of lames that the Boobi Boys killed Brisco line to young nigga, what it do Said he gotta couple kilos and he wanna bring 'em through That's love, we go back to da blue house And if he brought enough I may buy me a new house You wanna go that route, go there I been on this road before (Uh, huh) I know gunplay, you know gunplay (Yeah) I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss Both bags on the tip on my finger Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron (Dat iron) When I'm swingin' dat iron (Dat iron) Ain't thinkin' 'bout time Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine Ain't thinkin' bout dying Nigga how I'm livin', damn near dying For every digit I get, fuck they know 'bout that I aint never put shit on the line, just shit in they rhyme I shoot a nigga shit on a rhyme Wanna bet nigga, you ain't a threat nigga Never seen a laptop in da projects nigga Just powder, cut with comet, fuck them comics Convicts and buyin' it, if they ain't coppin' or fryin' it Then don't get a nigga fired up behind sum Fuck shit, ma nigga don't want this Who dat, who dat behind the curtain I'll merk 'em, wizard of oz niggas Hiding behind money, hiding behind luxury I see 'em shootin' up all that fuck shit It's getting' ugly, got torch on the line Said he got a couple nuns, I told him Grab two koo, bring 'em on through You wanna go that route, go there I been on this road before (Uh, huh) I know gunplay, you know gunplay (Yeah) I'm shootin for the win but ready for the loss Both bags on the tip on my finger Yellin' bring it, I'm swingin' dat iron (Dat iron) When I'm swingin' dat iron (Dat iron) Ain't thinkin' 'bout time Ain't thinkin' 'bout mine Ain't thinkin' bout dying