Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Ten Crack Commandments - 2005 Remaster" 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 "Ten Crack Commandments - 2005 Remaster" 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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It's the ten crack commandments, what? (Uh)
Nigga can't tell me nothing about this coke
Can't tell me nothing about this crack, this weed, for my hustlin' niggas
Niggas on the corner, I ain't forget you niggas, my triple beam niggas
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I've been in this game for years, it made me a animal
There's rules to this shit, I wrote me a manual
A step-by-step booklet for you to get
Your game on track, not your wig pushed back
Rule number uno, never let no one know
How much dough you hold 'cause you know
The cheddar breed jealousy 'specially
If that man fucked up, get yo' ass stuck up
Number two, never let 'em know your next move
Don't you know Bad Boys move in silence and violence?
Take it from your highness (uh-huh)
I done squeezed mad clips at these cats for they bricks and chips
Number three, never trust nobody
Your moms'll set that ass up, properly gassed up
Hoodied and masked up, shit, for that fast buck
She be laying in the bushes to light that ass up
Number four, I know you heard this before
"Never get high on your own supply"
Number five, never sell no crack where you rest at
I don't care if they want an ounce, tell 'em, "Bounce!"
Number six, that goddamn credit? Dead it
You think a crackhead paying you back, shit, forget it
Seven, this rule is so underrated
Keep your family and business completely separated
Money and blood don't mix like two dicks and no bitch
Find yourself in serious shit
Number eight, never keep no weight on you
Them cats that squeeze your guns can hold jumps too
Number nine shoulda been number one to me
If you ain't gettin' bagged, stay the fuck from police
If niggas think you snitchin', they ain't tryna listen
They be sittin' in your kitchen, waiting to start hittin'
Number ten, a strong word called, "Consignment"
Strictly for live men, not for freshmen
If you ain't got the clientele, say, "Hell no!"
'Cause they gon' want they money rain, sleet, hail, snow
Follow these rules, you'll have mad bread to break up
If not, 24 years on the wake-up
Slug hit your temple, watch your frame shake up
Caretaker did your makeup, when you passed
Your girl fucked my man Jacob
Heard in three weeks, she sniffed a whole half a cake up
Heard she suck a good dick, and can cook a steak up
Gotta go, gotta go, more pies to bake up, word up (uh)
Crack King, Frank Wiz-zhite
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Ten