Welcome to the detailed analysis of "SIR BAUDELAIRE (feat. DJ Drama)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "SIR BAUDELAIRE (feat. DJ Drama)" 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "SIR BAUDELAIRE (feat. DJ Drama)" not only celebrates undefined'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!
The sun beamin'
Y'all ready?
Ayo (DJ the fuck-)
It's T, baby (it's DJ the fuck-)
I don't think you're ready
Wolf Haley, Bunnyhop, yo
I must say, (yo) I'm glad you found your way here (yo)
Cookie crumbs in the rolls (rolls), jet fuel scented vest (vyoom)
Swim trunks in the trunks, Geneva water the best (the best, yeah)
The passport lookin' thick, the afro need a pick
My skin soak up the sun, ain't shakin' hands with you bums (nah)
Bunny Hopper, the new car doors, they lift open (woo)
The lake water, dry off at the French Open (ayy)
I rub it in these niggas' faces like thick lotion
That big B is in motion, uh (Gangsta Grillz)
The coral peach cobbler, dude, spit like a llama do
Used to be reckless, you should see what them commas do
New le FLEUR* season, summer time, look like private school
Keep it low, don't want that shit to blow like Osama shoe
I'm a true connoisseur, hotel concierge
Know me as that spaced out nigga with the chunky ears
UFC, that shit swole up, that's VVS, keep Vic safe
That's a mansion on that USB, it's T
Yeah
I hope you niggas been spendin' your time wisely
Call me if you get lost, baby
As you can tell, we have (haha)
This shit for the sunseekers
Got the bikes on the tarmac
Welcome to the disco
Hittin' wheelies and shit
Call me if you get lost
Perfume on the skin, ha (hahaha)
Call me if you lost
See, while y'all was in the house (call me if you lost)
We was takin' Rolls Royces to go see alligators
DJ Drama, man (call me if you lost)
Travelin' the world
Passport stamped up (call me)
It's Tyler Baudelaire, nigga