Lyrical Breakdown of Long Live Da Game - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

• Lyric Overview: Witness how T.I. weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Long Live Da Game" 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 T.I. 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 T.I.'s narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Long Live Da Game" not only celebrates T.I.'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!

YEA. Dis for all my niggaz who think dey hard. You wanna know whats hard(whats hard pimp?) Goin about yo day nigga losin yo life at the end of it Now dats whats hard...(MINDING MY MUTHAFUCKING BUSINESS) Let me tell yall bout the last day I lived nigga I'm in the 96 Impala with the gat in my lap Annihilating any nigga tryin to work in my trap Now see the feds got me tap'd So to keep 'em off of my bac I got a crib in the trap and a crib to relax Now my indictment was a secret and thats the way that they keep it If I aint have a hoe givin head to the feds Comin bac tellin me exactly what they said I'm a dead man walkin. Waitin on time in jail But I'll die before I let 'em stop my mail Long as I got another ounce to sell What the hell I'ma bail? a grap my scale Get another key and I'ma slang my yayo Niggaz on the westside cant re-up becuz its a drought So I check the crack house. DAMN it sold out So back to the crib so I can check this stash Aint sure about how much dope I had Got a couple keyz in the safe right now Weigh it up cook it up then chop it down Now I'm ready to go and pick up my fetti But before I leave the house I cant dip without grabbin my G'z And my keyz to my brand new V put 'em in pocket with the gat to see Niggaz pleeze nigga you holla bout freeze Put this red dot to ya ass and squeeze Now I'm dippin bac to the swats With the 4-4 and a plastic glock Turned around and I had to stop Couldnt trap swarn it wuz cops Standin there and I still aint scared Mac Boney nem must have fled Only cops is I fear is the feds On my car flashin blue and red Damn there dey go now its time to dip Got the 4-4 right my hip 9 millimeter wit a extra clip Dats what yall niggaz get fuckin round wit TIP Bustin at 'em N cussin at 'em but aint no shakin 'em Them bullets dat they wuz bustin at me my vest wuz takin 'em Makin dem pigs fall in pain Turned around cuz one call my name Took a hot one to the brain Yea I died but LONG LIVE THA GAME.