Lyrical Breakdown of Hollywood To Hollywood - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Hollywood To Hollywood" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Wyclef Jean weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Hollywood To Hollywood" 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 Wyclef Jean 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 Wyclef Jean's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Hollywood To Hollywood" not only celebrates Wyclef Jean'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!

Bling, bling! Who's that with Supercat? (Third Eye, Third Eye!) Yes black, where all my troopers at (Uptown, Uptown!) Yo, let's get back to the hardcore right now Underground hip-hop, yo This one's a gangsta tune, what's up Fosha? I'ma send this one out to all the refugee gangs around the world Signal, signal, y'all need to chill with the drive-by's It was the Fourth of July, I heard the cherry bomb bang "Stay in the house, that's the sound of the gangs, Clef" By the time we figured out what happened I was in an ambulance tellin' my cousin, "Keep breathing" Don't wear your colors here, that's cemetery gear I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite (but that ain't right y'all) Don't wear your colors here, that's cemetery gear (California, California) I got my gun and nine (From Hollywood to your neck of the hood) True, true, yo Hollywood got a lot of kids twisted Jumpin' in and out of limo's thinkin' is his ass really gifted The only gift y'all possess is workin' with the triple six's Y'all disguise yourself with bandanas and diamond necklaces Most of y'all can't even go back to the hood where y'all grew up Actin' like y'all drink alcohol when all y'all do is throw up Talk about when y'all blow up y'all gonna visit the project floors But the last time they saw y'all was 1984 Now y'all wonder, why they got on hoodies screamin' "freeze" Get out the navigator, Godfather III in the DVD They hop in, they take your car for a spin It's cold outside so all you feel is the wind There's no cell-y phone, so you can't phone home Oh lord, here come those criminals Maleek & Jerome ("Yo, who you know here, you got family over here?") (He a rap artist) ("I don't care, he got the wrong colors over here, no fear") Now you look shook like that Mobb Deep song I'm surprised, 'cause on all y'all records you was Al Capone And come to find out that you never held a chrome And you escaped the draft and never bust a shot in Vietnam Now you standin' in the form amongst the children of the corn Like the Son of Man stood with a crown made of thorns The only difference is for you there'll be no resurrection 'Cause it's a traffic jam, they got you locked up in a intersection Don't wear your colors here, that's cemetery gear I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite (but that ain't right y'all) Don't wear your colors here (colors), that's cemetery gear (Chicago, Chicago) I got my gun and nine (From Hollywood to your neck of the hood) Yo, Hollywood-ass half-man, we hollow tip you How could you have slipped through without us detecting the trick that's in you Pretending you pitbull, when really your candy-ass is poodle We wouldn't've hit you, hammers have already been cocked and cleaned, yo, it was who? It's click-up, click-up, north cackus, commence to stick up That's what's within us, cack and lack, clap, buck killers quicker Stick up the forest misters then head up to chickens with 'em Adrenaline's givin', when I riff with the fifth to your chin-in You never knew 'bout how we play these innings But you about to play the commission Waves are spinning, I'm out the glaze I'm sh- ing The real is missing but the fraud is evident Ever so clear, but you got the nerve to come around here with pounds of fear Your colors wrong, you must rock edible dons with that huh? Damn, pa, what's that? Huh, lemme get that, with the quick snatch If it's a little man in you, then I better put the trick back And if it's anything killers is fearing, I know my clit stacked for realer Don't wear your colors here, that's cemetery gear I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite (but that ain't right y'all) Don't wear your colors here, that's cemetery gear (Detroit, Detroit) I got my gun and nine (From Hollywood to your neck of the hood) Tell the FBI that I won't be home tonight Tell the Secret Service I won't be home tonight Colors Put away your colors Whoa, colors