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