Lyrical Breakdown of Domestic Violence Pt. 2 (feat. Big Gipp) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Domestic Violence Pt. 2 (feat. Big Gipp)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how RZA weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Domestic Violence Pt. 2 (feat. Big Gipp)" 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 RZA 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 RZA's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Domestic Violence Pt. 2 (feat. Big Gipp)" not only celebrates RZA'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!
You ain't shhh
Ya momma ain't shhh
Your daddy ain't shit
Your pussy ain't shhh
Bitch, you ain't shhh
Your friends ain't shh
Your whip ain't shhh
Pocketbook ain't shhh
You talk that shhh
But girl you ain't shhh
Your momma ain't shhh, your daddy ain't shhh
You talkin' shit girl, your pussy ain't shit
Your friends ain't shit, you whip ain't shhh
You see these wizards out here, trynna floss like
I wear the pants dada, I'm the boss papa
I'm a Survivor! I play the course dada
They got the little toy vibrators on there speed, chacha
See I don't need a man, don't need to see a man
But it seems to me ho, you wanna be a man
You Tinkerbell and your girlfriend is Peter Pan
Strap on the KY Jelly, you wanna eat ya friend
I know the type, come down and take a little pipe
Then run up and call me cupcakes, say "I didn't fuck you right"
Shit, call me now, like that bitch on the tube with the tarot cards
'Cause, mushy gushy still goin for sale on the Boulevard
Now I didn't I see, didn't I see you walk on the porno flicks
Givin' brain at the same, give no bumper hit
Get them bent accross seas, damn near done rapped the world
And you qualify in my book as a nasty girl
You ain't shit, yo mama ain't shit
Yo daddy ain't shit, yo pussy ain't shit, bitch
You ain't shit, your friends ain't shit
Your whip ain't shit, pocketbook ain't shit bitch
You ain't shit, yo daddy ain't shit
Yo mama ain't shit, and yo pussy ain't shit, bitch
You ain't shit, your friends ain't shit
Your whip ain't shit, pocketbook ain't shit, bitch
Hey Bobby, I know this loot gobbler, hard knobber
More peaches than cobbler, corner store soliciter
Drawers up her ass wipe, what you want
And what you need, and what you get is two different things
Pulled over, Pea Street, and put the bitch out in the rain
Lost your mind, ya 409, riding the short yellow bus
Gipp ain't never been touched, left insane, drunk off the lawn lush
Hush, shit-kicker licker, stronger than Wild Turkey liquor
Tryin to entice her, movin to hit her, but I'd rather forget her nigga
Plus her knees be purple, Gipp, she like to gurgle gurgle
And goggle, goggle, slurpy slurp and she swallow swallow
I met this Caramel Sundae, her name was Betty Boo
She put her period blood in her spaghetti stew (fuck no! fuck no!)
I knew her mama, her papa, plus her naughty daughter
She filled her baby's ba-ba up with toilet water
And Sun Dew, the whole Clan used to run threw
Her Power U, then just bless her wit the hair doo
Bitch, I pack a horse dick, plus you know my chain is frosted
One fuck from the apple head and shorty lost it
'Cause you ain't shit, yo mama ain't shit
Yo daddy ain't shit, yo cousins ain't shit, bitch
You ain't shit, yo whip ain't shit
Pocketbook ain't shit and yo friends ain't shit, bitch
You ain't shit, yo folks ain't shit
Yo lawyer ain't shit, yo bumper car ain't shit, bitch
You ain't shit, yo boyfriend ain't shit
Your last name ain't shit, your whole family ain't shit, bitch
Fuckin' around, nigga from Israel
Bobby Digital, Big Gipp AKA Mute
Straight from the underground, we gone