Lyrical Breakdown of Ya Digg (Feat. Shad Da God, Spodee & T.I.) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Ya Digg (Feat. Shad Da God, Spodee & T.I.)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Travis Scott weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Ya Digg (Feat. Shad Da God, Spodee & T.I.)" 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 Travis Scott 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 Travis Scott's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Ya Digg (Feat. Shad Da God, Spodee & T.I.)" not only celebrates Travis Scott'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!

Leggo Yeah, you know I'm ridin' with that sig (Hol' up!) Come through in that Benz playin' Big (I say hol' up!) And we blow that gas, you can smell her (Turn it) Ain't shit you could motherfuckin' tell us (Turn it) Man I heard a fake one talkin' slick 'bout the kid (Hol' up!) Tell the hoe we playin' with the paper like a kid Bankroll they neck, that's the shit they just throat Hit the green lights, everybody on go (And you know it man) Yeah, that's the motherfuckin' kid, bitch You know I got my city, bitch I say, you could get your wig split Go on and let me dim the white light, burn the white candles Get a white girl out her white dress, down to white sandals (Ya dig?) The only stars in astrology that's making profits Prophets on the rocket, like my city, we don't need the comet And all that blasé, blasé, all that nonce, nonce My girl look like a Nicki, Rihanna, Minaj, Grande Yonce There he go on a pedestal, you need better dude I told her that ABC, not ABC, public school they want to steel Still pushing packs, pushing packs on some mule shit I'm over nightin' and lbs relaxed on some cool shit When the sun go down we jump around we off the shits Don't under digg, the kids, you dig? Leggo Yeah, you know I'm ridin' with that 6 (Hol' up!) Come through in that Benz playin' Big (I say hol' up!) And we blow that gas, you can smell her (Turn it) Ain't shit you could motherfuckin' tell us (Turn it) Man I heard a fake one talkin' slick 'bout the kid (Hol' up!) Tell the hoe we playin' with the paper like a kid Bankroll they neck, that's the shit they just throat Hit the green lights, everybody on go (And you know it man) Yeah, that's the motherfuckin' kid, bitch You know I got my city, bitch I say, you could get your wig split My shoes from Italy, motherfuck who ain't feelin' me Cause issues we ain't livin' it makin' mills for my children Steady stackin' up my bills without Hillary In the streets a nigga plugged in like auxiliary God willing I keep killing all these tracks and shit I been selling crack so long, I got calluses Wrapping mid up that just fell of a big truck Ridin' with sticks 'cause I got a name I'm establishin' Third team trail every night I'm averaging Blunt filled green, pockets filled with cabbage Word to flyin' Weezy, young money savages I just called two hoes and they gon' blow me like a clarinet Yeah, you know I'm ridin' with that sig (Hol' up!) Come through in that Benz playin' Big (I say hol' up!) And we blow that gas, you can smell her (Turn it) Ain't shit you could motherfuckin' tell us (Turn it) Man I heard a fake one talkin' slick 'bout the kid (Hol' up!) Tell the hoe we playin' with the paper like a kid Bankroll they neck, that's the shit they just throat Hit the green lights, everybody on go (And you know it man) Designer, on my momma Fresh shit like Obama, I probably get that going wind See all the brick we just be blowin' them Hustle gang Hey listen up if I say a duck could pull a truck Don't ask me what for, find something to hook your lil' ass up And guess what, hey If I see a flick could pull a tree Stand back and get to 'em but don't be starin' at me Man I'm a G, that's some shit today you rarely see Man I been trappin' since all I had was a prayer and a key Man, you get caught I bet you sing like a Parakeet They say the proof is in the pudding, you don't see it, ain't lookin' Man I-I-I'm certified, spread from Cali to Brooklyn In the Chi, I'm providing all the hoods with sugar I'm super solid, pure gangster 'til my casket G You disrespect or we gon' blast for that blasphemy Yeah, you know I'm ridin' with that sig (Hol' up!) Come through in that Benz playin' Big (I say hol' up!) And we blow that gas, you can smell her (Turn it) Ain't shit you could motherfuckin' tell us (Turn it) Man I heard a fake one talkin' slick 'bout the kid (Hol' up!) Tell the hoe we playin' with the paper like a kid Bankroll they neck, that's the shit they just throat Hit the green lights, everybody on go (And you know it man)