Lyrical Breakdown of Reefer Party - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Reefer Party" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Wiz Khalifa weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Reefer Party" 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 Wiz Khalifa 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 Wiz Khalifa's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Reefer Party" not only celebrates Wiz Khalifa'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!
Thousand pounds of weed
Ridin' in my car so fast I
Won't turn down the speed
Them hoes don't use they feet no more
They break down to their knees
And suck me like a king
Rosé in my champagne glass and
Diamonds in my ring
Uh, roll some, thats your bitch on my dick
I might let her hold something
You niggas smoking sevens I'mma need
A whole onion, whole youngin, oh
Same ones that hate, same ones that tag along
No Blackberry
Too many lame niggas call my phone
Call me world wide Wiz cause I’m never home
Ever leave me round your bitch
I’mma get her stoned
And you know that I rock
Camos and brought fros back
And go download some of my old track
And go play somewhere there’s hoes at
Fucking high
And you down there where them lows at
Gettin tired of hearing my flow jacked
Go head hand me a joint, you can't roll that
I got a whole lot of OGs, and
I’m rolling up for anyone in
Here that knows me
Everybody smoking, yea it's a party, oh
It's a party everybody smoking papers
Nobody smoking blunts
Bitches rolling weed and my niggas fucked up
Yea it's a party, oh, it's a party
Quarter pound of that sour
Thats four days on tour
Sleeping on how we smoke
See all these pillows on this floor
Every state we score
Fill those papers they be raw
Look like a piece of chalk in my hand
But I ain't writing on the chalkboard
And I heard it's a party
It's a party it's a party but I’m cool
Them niggas smoking garbage, I’m no fool
We give 5 j’s out half
Zips? Nigga thats really smoking
Ain't enough weed up in that
Swisha to get you high, you joking
Niggas claim that they be high
They be hella low
When they gang up in the building
You gon’ smell that sour smoke
I could get that shit from my backyard
Go pick it out myself
Yellow light let me slow it down
Niggas need some help
28 ain't enough you need more
All this weed over here, thats 1 weed jar
When them planes get the flying
Niggas wanna part
Smoking crash with the plane, Amelia Earhart
I got a whole lot of OGs, and
I’m rolling up for anyone in
Here that knows me
Everybody smoking, yea it's a party, oh
It's a party everybody smoking papers
Nobody smoking blunts
Bitches rolling weed and my niggas fucked up
Yea it's a party, oh, it's a party
What I smoke in one day
These niggas don't smoke in one week
Riding round and it's just me, Pepsi can
Playing that Bun B
Gotta smoke that dope on the
Run with me, comfortably, i’m smoking weed
Doing speeds, who with me
Probably a chick from TMZ
I make her roll like two or three
Let her smoke and feel the breeze
Ya’ll chip in on a half
A zip, counting grams, saving weed
Average shit
It was us just smoking out in NY
Swear to GOD we let ten fly
Thats ten planes with ten guys nine smoke
Meaning someone left without his mind pot
Planes Continental, flights nonstop
You get some zips, well get some P’s
Smoke your spliffs around your bitch
Tell me how does she breath
Perfect planes, we call them G6′s
And it's just me chilling
Me and three bitches
Rolling up it's cool, come take this bong rip
Pack this bold straight dope
Make your lungs rip