Lyrical Breakdown of Slow Blues (Instrumental) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Slow Blues (Instrumental)" 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 "Slow Blues (Instrumental)" 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 "Slow Blues (Instrumental)" 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!

Yeah, get my voice, get the clarity Sunzini the flame Let me drop a little something hot, what? Yeah (we here) (Yo, turn my vocals up, son) Turn my voice up (yeah, yo, yeah) Yo, Brooklyn, Bo King, yeah All my Russians come on (uh, yo) Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh I'm Vast Aire I got to pull, I got to pull out the guitar on this one Yeah (yeah, yeah, yeah) I'm like Ali, better yet, Joe Louis I will push my hands through you, I don't need bullets Show me the signal, let's flow I'll be outside with thirty niggas ready to go We shine when we rhyme, so I'm, ready to glow I liked to hem shows, I'm ready to sew Pass me the needle, you get the cloth Kunta'll get the thread and we'll all break bread This is the true birth of a prince When I die, this song'll be a footprint I'll be back with the essence in an instant I heard about Ason, and burnt an incense Life's ill, don't get it pretzled I can't show you, but I'll leave a stencil I'm talking 'bout what matters, not figures I'm pointing at the moon and you looking at my finger Come correctly and I don't really give a fuck Who won't accept me, you see? I gotta do this for the underground, broke it down Coney Isle, BK to Uptown, yeah, they gonna know me now I'm up in the kitchen cooking up some hot shit Just ask your boy Raekwon, he gon' tell you how I spit, yeah Byata live it, it's a hustle every day I'm on the grind tryna see this million pay day But I stay shining, catch me when I'm up in the scene Rocking the surplus русская девка silk screens, yeah Gorilla style, don't make me have to wild out With the surrealer for realer, caveat, come tell 'bout Making moves, paying dues on the evening news The Russian lifestyle, bitches, we never lose Now give me another blast of that green 'Til I get open and I'm nasty with the sixteen, yeah They don't even know what's coming 'Til them got them rubbing off the rooster Chick from C.I. To Brighton Beach, yeah, we Russian sick (sick) Woo, yeah, yeah, we Russian sick (sick) Uh-huh, yeah, yeah, the chick is sick (yo, come on, yo) I'm Young Abraham in front of the projects puffing If I honor myself then my honor is nothing Even a spirit of evil in the veins of a junkie Pay peanuts and you get monkeys Honkey see, honkey do, yeah, Yacub the foul serpent Amongst crack dealers, street merchants, Bo King Yeah, flows from out of my mouth Up North, Down South, yeah, I'm never without Extra heat on some black burner, semi assault Buccaneer, yeah, I'm bucking near holes in your port 'Cause you ain't bustin' nothing, that's studio edits Who doing the shooting? Your engineer gettin' all the credit So while you busting shots in a four hour session I'll be aiming at cops in the name of oppression Mac-1 to the second power, clap off end I can hit anything up close or far away Spray lead at the governor's head 'cause he don't wanna Break bread with the slaves that never been fed One for my son's money, two for the show Three, I gets busy, four, I'm out the door, bro Five, the click get live, the Sunn'll jive Blaze that haze in the East, that purple kush on the Westside Tech vests with the metal slides, from rebel Bedstuy I do or die, high on the ride This revolution will be televised, through mics, I'm mesmerized Sight spies, small fries, living lies Testing the flame, will get you blowned out the fucking frame I don't bang, but I will let that Eagle reign Never catch me tucking the chain, I'm gutter grain That's word to mther main, sustained in this fucking game Yeah, he shines like aluminum foil, make the mic boil Ladies and gentleman, introducing, I'm loyal Bloodlines royal, hood raised never spoiled I'm quick to bury a snake, Jake, beneath the soil Twist that backwood berry croyal Taste the green as it broil and watch it burn like oil That independent who stays major, rule one, about my paper It all started on the block with small cash capers A force of nature, my mom and pops ain't no glass makers And if I see you on some shit, I'm a fair shaker I let it out like Sharon Vegas, serving traitors Y'all niggas now I shine across the equator