Lyrical Breakdown of WHAT A DAY - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "WHAT A DAY" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Tyler, The Creator weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "WHAT A DAY" 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 Tyler, The Creator 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 Tyler, The Creator's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "WHAT A DAY" not only celebrates Tyler, The Creator'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!
(What a day at the park) The Estate Sale
(What a day at the park)
(Gangsta Grillz)
Yeah, I pulled up in that eighteenth-letter repeat buggy
Had to switch the hue 'cause them LA boys smoggy
But more likely to get hurt by somebody who love me
My lady, she don't trust me, know I'm a sick puppy
Know that women throw themselves at me and men want me
Anything could happen for attention and rent money
I got so much on my plate, that's why I sit funny
So many hand-outs, so much back bending
So much entitlement my family be actin' in
So many white diamonds, yeah, I got jungle fever
But they didn't raise me, so shout out black women
So much commentin', show me what you good at (nigga)
Tell me the highs of the valley that your boots stood at
You couldn't fit in my loafers if you took a steroid
And I wouldn't handle your baggage if I had a bellboy
I'm rarely replying to texts, barely enjoying the sex
I got a pain in my chest, that's from suppressin' the stress
Lionel, he know me the best
Told me I know the answer, but Clancy, he gave me the best advice that I heard in a sec'
I need to call me a jet, I need to pack me a bag
I need to get me a cabin, need some scrimmage in chess
I coulda bought me some land, I went and flooded my neck
I say this shit with my chest, I am like one of the best (greatest)
I am a workaholic, and I need to get me some rest
I'd rather get these ideas off, I'd rather not steer off my path
I'm so scared of going back to my past
I work, I swear it's hard not shaking that fear off
White boy said I brag too much, the black kid said, "It's inspiring duality is tiring"
My girl would kill me if she knew the things I was desirin'
Suppressing it, get it out the way, I put the sirens in, yeah
What a day at the park
What a day at the park (don't get it confused)
What a day (you could never!)
Look, I don't fuck with party's I don't fuck with the paparazzi
Never have I drove a Hellcat or a Maserati
Never needed others for my personal validation
She ain't getting touched if she can not hold a conversation
Never had a bulky Richard Mille as a wristwatch
I never seen Amiri, never posted on TikTok
I never had desire for promethazine in a soda
Never made eye contact with a woman in Fashion Nova
Never had to fit in no lane
Never wore beats by Dre headphones to get a video made, uh
Bunny hop validated
Pedaling, hitting wheelies like Chris retaliated
Just look around, every opportunity allocated
I put so many niggas on, you thought DJ Khaled made it
From cold showers, I used to hate it
Now I'm spending fifteen for the new roof, it ain't renovated (cash!)
I can see the ocean where I sleep and the house is gated (yeah)
No Calabasas, I Brentwood it or palisade it (yeah)
The freckled girls are articulating art got me salivating (I love it)
Wall is Henry Taylor with the trunks, I be playing Jenga
The last tour, dog, I cleaned house, they mad I made it, I'm so conceited
Feeling myself, ego masturbating, I graduated
After album five, I got syndicated
You want the old T? Sorry G, that picture faded, come get with me
Day at the park (I like to call that)
What a day (oh my god) at the park
Yuh, I'm a dead poet, table top stumping (stumping)
I'm a free spirit, have the whole jail jumping (jumping)
Ever since a youngin, moved at my pace (uh-huh)
Scared to have youngins 'cause I like my space (yeah)
Selfish ain't the word (nope) regret ain't either (nah)
Before you get to huffing and puffing take a breather
Put yourself first if you living with a dream (put yourself first)
Be your biggest cheerleader motherfuck the team, one