Lyrical Breakdown of Cash Still Rules / Scary Hours (Still Don't Nothing Move But the Money) (feat. Raekwon, Method Man & Ghostface Killah) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Cash Still Rules / Scary Hours (Still Don't Nothing Move But the Money) (feat. Raekwon, Method Man & Ghostface Killah)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Wu-Tang Clan weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Cash Still Rules / Scary Hours (Still Don't Nothing Move But the Money) (feat. Raekwon, Method Man & Ghostface Killah)" 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 Wu-Tang Clan 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 Wu-Tang Clan's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Cash Still Rules / Scary Hours (Still Don't Nothing Move But the Money) (feat. Raekwon, Method Man & Ghostface Killah)" not only celebrates Wu-Tang Clan'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!

Shake them niggaz Scary hours no money out, smash the Guinness Stout Play the outfield, Lucille, switched cracks on shields She's a rich fiend, sacrifice her fam, shift them niggaz To Queens, Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans Hit the cell phone, regulate with well known tone A Wally kingpin, who also slam and strike edition Whattup, Corleone smoke the bone Tone phone me Whattup he tried to slang there, address him with chrome only Grady with the gray beard, transport for him Rockin Nike at? Rastafarianburg, pipin that Switchin Benzes, ten carat nigga with gold lenses Frontin like he's sittin on a lump he's sittin on junk You wanna pull a heist, draw guns and robberies You wanna rock rep, step in yellow Wallabies Names arraigned, the century fox, little glocks Them niggaz with stocks, wail on your blocks Rich lifestyle, small like an ordinary white child But right now, Son is still shine, shed light now Breakdown, liquidate God, fuck it grab the nickel plate Spencer for Hire, tension when we mention Dryer He's a slave cop, behave pop Blue suits who bay stop us blow that cat At the Purple Haze spot I remember stickin fiends at the one-six-ooh When we was starvin, duckin five-oh, payin em dues Times is hard in the slums I'm from, they got us barred in We warrin and cage dodgin, rippin and robbin Got the NARC sabotagin, slippin cracks in Your camoflougin, now you snitchin on the squadron That's somethin niggaz can't pardon City overrun by young gun with bad intention, and Wu-Wear garment So I see no need to mention, the potency Of a sting from a killa bee, kickin the battery Out the back of them wisecracks Distorted for your get high you hijack These friendly skies ain't for you, they for me and mine This the year of the grimy nigga, ragtime Keep these niggaz on the run, peep my Clan emblem Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's comin from Catch us swimmin with these sharks now, you rap villains (I feel the same way you niggaz feelin) We feel the same way you feelin, let it be known (let it be known) What the blood clot you niggaz dealin, you crash dummies Cash rules, still don't nuttin move but the money Aiyyo strongarm that kid right there with wavy hair Billy Johnson, snatched him out his whip in Times Square Took his Pumas, nameplate, dude lost weight Summer eighty-eight, started a fight, that can't wait Ask Dorothy, same kid pussy up in Marsey Blazin that Tad Rossi, up in the Marquis He lost like a hundred ounces, Jake rushed his houses Had him on the porch, ass no trousers This souped up, individual stuck, the new stuff Same kid cryin on the stand with Judge Cuffner Kissed him with art num it's three to nine style Before he left he flashin his face like Denzel Richard Dale took his Beaver, off the wall pullin his whip Mussy dropped and split his wig with the heater His safe butt was all fucked up, as he had me laughin God you see how he was laid out, in the grass With dirt in his mouth, Slim woke him up told him he wild out Blood leakin from his teeth he smiled like he gunned out Big bolo, stackin his shit financed a Volvo He copped his shit from a small, coffeeshop in SoHo He still pussy, he sell his dust up on the Lower East Posin like he rappin out...