Lyrical Breakdown of Sh!t (feat. Future, Rick Ross, Schoolboy Q, Meek Mill, Young Jeezy) [Remix] - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Sh!t (feat. Future, Rick Ross, Schoolboy Q, Meek Mill, Young Jeezy) [Remix]" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Yo Gotti Feat. T.I. weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Sh!t (feat. Future, Rick Ross, Schoolboy Q, Meek Mill, Young Jeezy) [Remix]" 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 Yo Gotti Feat. 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 Yo Gotti Feat. T.I.'s narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Sh!t (feat. Future, Rick Ross, Schoolboy Q, Meek Mill, Young Jeezy) [Remix]" not only celebrates Yo Gotti Feat. 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!

Oh this a hit nigga With no words on it I got on two chains, but, no, I ain't Tity Boi I'm dream chasin', but I ain't from Philly boy Bitch bad, and she said that I can get it boy This a hit and I'mma make a nigga feel it boy My flow on range, my swag's insane And my campaign on ten, I like the bitch She down to fuck, but I'm really into her friend House up on the hill, got it off of cocaine Aventador Lamborghini, condo off of Biscayne Bitch I'm in my lane, fresh as hell, no stains Robert jeans with the stones, Giuseppe man's my chain I'm different, I was built for this, my bitch only rock Tiffany You rat, you'll sing a symphony and I'm back, city been missing me My watch silly my clock ignorant and I'm the king of my city I'm banned up and I ain't in a band But my flow just like an instrument Bass, feel that, yellow tape of the trizack Hating is a disease, pussy where they do that? L.A. Reid cut the check for me King shit and you know what it is Shawty smell like a pound of that loud, but a nigga look like a hundred mill But I drive Ferrari, fuck the motherfuckin dealer Pay 10 million for a mansion, that worth more than your opinion I got racks all in my cargo pants Standard clip with that hollow man, yo' bitch ass If yo bitch bad, she get fucked fast, ain't no romance My diamond dancing in 3D nigga Like a vegas strip when you see me, nigga Your money wrong and my money long And I'm playing with it like PE nigga Real nigga no joke, don't think there nigga no ho I got mini Mac-10 and a 100 round drum In the carpet up under my car And nigga I don't wanna smoke your weed, plain gas the only thing I smoke And I gotta thank God for the niggas off Bankhead Shawty, they taught me everything I know I do whip it, who could care to dip it Hand it to your partner let it flood it to the city Really, we bout that action, you try us and we blastin' We turnt to the max that's a motherfucking fact I'm a real nigga, fuck these rappers Door up, doors down When I'm in the club, bitch it's going down Shawty think it fucked, hand down, hands up, pants down Down, down, shawty fuckin head down I see my phone blowing up, I know it's going down Once I busted at the rapper, then it hit the town Check the numbers in the city, boy it going down This that dope boy academy, them three letters been after me,(Who?) The F.B.I. ever catchin me, my family my witness a tragedy Shorty open her legs up happily I ball hard like an athlete Young black nigga in a big white phantom Nigga, I look like a referee nigga They blowing the whistle they telling I do the clam I'm chilling This bitch turned up making rain When I'm in the club you yellin They talk about these Bentley's that Im gettin on the daily One feet in the game and one feet out, swear I barely made it I'ma real nigga till the death of me Never sing a song like a parakeet 50 bandz in my pocket just blew 60 grand on that Cherokee I be gettin money like a motherfuckin Brinx trunk Standing in the kitchen, nigga, trying to whip a brick up, uh!