Lyrical Breakdown of Who Dat Boy (feat. A$AP Rocky) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Who Dat Boy (feat. A$AP Rocky)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Tyler, The Creator feat. A$AP Rocky weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Who Dat Boy (feat. A$AP Rocky)" 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 feat. A$AP Rocky employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
• Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to Tyler, The Creator feat. A$AP Rocky's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Who Dat Boy (feat. A$AP Rocky)" not only celebrates Tyler, The Creator feat. A$AP Rocky'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!

Yo, who dat boy? Who him is? Him that nig-ga, I swear Stand up guy, him don't need no chair Well, where the fuck him at? 'Cause nigga, I'm right here I don't shop at the mall, all y'all just Dumb mothafucka I'm a goddamn artist You can give me some markers and I'll draw you a closet And you know that it's GOLF Bitch go on and make the deposit Nigga fresh to death like he got dressed in a coffin Cons, overalls, and a striped shirt The boy drip swag like a broken faucet It's runnin', nigga, I'm runnin' shit That cherry be the bomb like he ran in Boston Won't stop 'til the cops surround him One nigga jiggy and the other awesome With his fuckin' face blown off, that's how they found him It's Young T Who dat boy? Who him is? Who dat boy? Who him is? Nigga, who dat boy? Who him is? Who dem boys? Nigga, who dem is, nigga? Why you niggas feel like that? Mad 'cause a nigga neck chill like that Mad 'cause a nigga push wheel like that? Why you puttin' bad vibes in the air like that? Nigga who dem boys? Who dem is? Nigga, who dem is? Who else step in this bitch this jig? Who else your bitch say got a Bic this big? Who else came through with a wrist this flick? Nigga, Guess my pants, do my dance Spin around, bitch, you could kiss my ass Never seen a nigga in this much Raf Still doin' math when I miss my class Was it Summertime '06, had the number Nine Nigga, never mind, was another time before Vince Had the Gucci gold tips with the letterman Nigga, dollar sign was my favorite number at the time Fresh freshman 'til they skip my ass Senior citizen, don't forget my pass Been that nigga and you knew that there Make the dick disappear, how she do that there? Who dat boy? Who him is? Who dat boy? Who him is? Nigga, who dat boy? Who him is? Who dem boys? Nigga, who dem is, nigga? Why you niggas feel like that? Mad 'cause a nigga neck chill like that Mad 'cause a nigga push weight like that? Why you puttin' bad vibes in the? Fuck the rap, I'm tryna own a planet From my other fuckin' business ventures These niggas these days Actin' like some bitches, like they're fuckin' with ya (yeah) Teeth is glistenin', Jesus, Christmas He just shittin', she exquisite, bitches be expensive (oh, no, nigga) And I don't even need attention WANG$AP on the bumper sticker, fuck you niggas Fuck global warming, my neck is so frío I'm currently lookin' for '95 Leo My mom say she worried because I'm so ill I should stay in bed, but got too much bread To make, she said watch my weight So I stayed home and start eatin' some meals Get out of my way, way Boy that's McLaren, that's zero to sixty in two-point-nueve, I'm gone Fuck