Lyrical Breakdown of Stroke Of Death - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Stroke Of Death" 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 "Stroke Of Death" 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 "Stroke Of Death" 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, Solomon marked for life, a million to life
Thug for life, forever eyein' the kid
'89 stick-up kid, King of New York
Regulation party, daddy hard-body
Rowdy Brighton God-body
Smooth like a leather bop, '83 hip-hop
Top of the world, get it rizzight
Dick to your wizzife, murder cats for the right prizzice
Four-hundred and fifty-six on the dizzice
This is real lizzife, ain't nothin sweet, God
Sit down and think it through, God, God
'Cause coming all outta ya face'll get ya clap, God
You are now listening to the sounds of Supreme Clientele
Step in to the party, it's me
God Almighty, Ghost still holdin' that shotty
Dust and Alizé, three-quarter Timbs
Terry-cloth robes, crisp hundreds in the envelope
Dookied on the globe
Thank God for my Wallabee shoe, it done saved me
Up three-nothing and Salt Lake City
Burgundy minks, whips with sinks in 'em
Broccoli blown, illa disease breathe, elephant skin
Meet the black Boy George, dusted on my honeymoon
Bitch like my wife, she popped my Ghostface balloon
Bitches think that I'm Dominican, slaf-hash Indian
Milk on my mustache, drop to my chinny-chin
Dive into dangerous parts, buildin' with thirsty mammals
White man scream, "Swim, Starks' sharks"
Smack the jail bail bondsman, strength of eighteen Bronzemen
Tall like Karl Malone "Mailman," frame of Larry Johnson
Tony Montana blow, creamy white Havana Joe's
Old Suzanna ho, pussy sweet, banana flow
David Banner, gamma ray shots, beast will marinate
Bones splittin' fatal Wu sword style, amputate
Duck Savanna wait, we splashed the glass, ice rocks
Our cash high price stock, our logo's on your rice box
Plus your dice box on the side upon your white socks
Bobby got the mic cocked, buck-buck, nice shot