Lyrical Breakdown of Cop That Disc - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Cop That Disc" not only celebrates Timbaland'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!

We are the VA players Love to the Neptunes and the Clipse To ya bootleggers we breaking off both of ya legs The underrated Maganoo, comin' with the unexpected The run away slave I, Mistameanor Escaping from all ya fraudulent players Last but not least, the heavyweight champion, Mr. Mosley It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you Without some little nieces and nephews To cover all the beats, and the rhymes I been through Time's up, sorry I left you Thinking of this, I keep repeating them hits Like that Aaliyah, Timberlake, or Missy Elliott shit (Shit) As you sit by the radio, hands on the dial tone As you hear it, pump up the volume Jump when you hear them speakers left it off (Off) Mr. VA 'bout to set it off Well I don't know what you heard, and I don't know what ya know Well my folks don' told me, (You got it! Oh) So, "Up Jumps the Boogie", let the record work (Uh huh) And put me on like you red alert 'Cause it's the big bad Timmy, Maganoo, and Missy Like three the hard way!, comin' straight out of Virginia DJ's in the mix shows you better go to the record store and Cop that shit! (Oh Lord) And to the bootleggers giving 'em bootlegs We breaking off both of ya legs, cop that shit! (Oh Lord) Stop burnin' CD's for ya friend and I'ma say it again, nucca Cop that shit! (Oh Lord) 'Cause this the hot shit, out on the streets So when you hear this CD go and cop that shit! (Oh Lord) When you say you love me, it doesn't matter It goes into my head as just chit-chatter You may think I'm egotistical or just very free Won'tcha say I go tell it to, Timothy! People say I'm whack, but they don't tell me so Let them pretend to be me, then they know I hate when one, pretend to fantasize Fact I despise, those who even try Sweat between my thighs never stinking Yo dream is over, career sinking I told all of you, like I told all of them Whatcha say to me be, Dick to ya chin! In one ear and right out the other "Ayyio Missy you ugly!" yeah ya mother I don't pay attention, I don't concentrate You ain't got the bait, that it takes to hook this, huh DJ's in the mix shows you better go to the record store and Cop that shit! (Oh Lord) And to the bootleggers giving 'em bootlegs We breaking off both of ya legs, Cop that shit! (Oh Lord) Stop burnin' CD's for ya friend and I'ma say it again, nucca Cop that shit! (Oh Lord) 'Cause this the hot shit, out on the streets So when you hear this CD go and cop that shit! (Oh Lord) I'm your idol, the highest title, numero uno I'm not a Puerto Rican but I do look up to Vagil And understand I got the gift of speech And it's a blessing, being from them VA streets I talk sense condensed in the form of a poem If I wasn't writing rhymes I'd be breaking in homes I'm kinda young, so my gun's my security I'm not afraid nucca do what you gon' do to me I get paid when your record is played To put it short, heh I got it made I'm talented, yes I'm gifted My uppercut boy that'll get ya lifted You got cash? man stop frontin Living off damn every record that you cutting My name Magoo and I roll wit two stars Every CD we split forty eight bars My name Magoo and I'm a supadupa star Every other month I get a brand new car! DJ's in the mix shows you better go to the record store and Cop that shit! (Oh Lord) And to the bootleggers giving 'em bootlegs We breaking off both of ya legs, cop that shit! (Oh Lord) Stop burnin' CD's for ya friend and I'ma say it again, nucca Cop that shit! (Oh Lord) 'Cause this the hot shit, out on the streets So when you hear this CD go and cop that shit! (Oh Lord)