Lyrical Breakdown of Mortuary - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Mortuary" not only celebrates Twista'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!

Uh Yeah Oh we do body bags in the winter Yes sir Get you a right nigga to do it Yeah Woke up smelling gun powder Didn't wanna smell it no more so I blew a blunt of sour Take three months to devour The city of Chicago Diablo in the shower The late can't cool niggas off Play roles in the movies But pussy can't fool niggas dog Fuck Chiraq Put the sun in my backpack So much shit going on I wanna go back in my dad's sack But since I'm here, I'm something to fear Looking way ahead of me nothing is near (Bang!) Gun shots that make you jump in the rear Blast from the past passing the grass up at the pier Call me Mr. Grand Avenue I blow two grams and laugh at you You know what's going on when I blam at you Vic Spencer the worst rapper that hurts rappers You in the dirt faster Bodies in the dumpster with the maggots Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Have you dying like Chris Farley Pour grams on the Harley Until somebody departs me Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Have you dying like Chris Farley Pour grams on the Harley Until somebody departs me Take shots like medicine, watch how the veteran get all ball Get the shit the fuck out of here, I'm better than all y'all I be the one that's gon deliver whenever y'all call Working the kitchen, funkier than chitterlings and hog maws Y'all blog while I think about what rhymes with Vic Spencer Tryna figure it out, smoking weed from my dispenser They unappealing, why my flow rifle so vital Have you dance on the ceiling like some throwback vinyl from Lionel My pants sag even though I got on the Gucci belt 'Cause I let them see it just so I can see how they coochie felt This is the flow for the hotter mama The dollar, dollar Milk from Cambodia Powder water from Guatemala OG and I'm making dollars like I was drag racing Hop out the phantom in my pajamas at the gas station Don't talk no shit 'cause eventually you gon starve me And mentally you gon charge me To a Spencer and we gon party Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Have you dying like Chris Farley Pour grams on the Harley Until somebody departs me Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Dispensaries from the bodies Have you dying like Chris Farley Pour grams on the Harley Until somebody departs me