Lyrical Breakdown of 911 - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "911" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Young Dolph weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "911" 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 Young Dolph 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 Young Dolph's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "911" not only celebrates Young Dolph'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!
These bad bitches love a nigga, you know what that bout
Got that 911 parked in front of my trap house
Momma said "what the fuck, boy you flippin' out"
Got that 911 sittin' outside the trap house
Welcome to my world where I do this shit they rap bout
Got that 911 parked in front of my trap house
Got that 911 sittin' in front of my trap house
Got that 911 sittin' outside my trap house
I was chillin' in South Memphis, bumping Jeezy's Trap or Die
Gettin' 10 thangs in the weekend I ain't never have to try
Trappin' ain't dead, man these niggas just some pussies
My nigga just caught a quarter million and smoked about a cookie
Your bitch played in her pussy, claim she on
But nigga I took that and made her bring her best friend too, cause that bitch kept lookin'
Girl you so fine I wanna turn you around from the back and give you a whoopin
Then it's back to my trap house, where we don't do no cooking
No bakin' soda, no cups and pots, got plenty P's I sold some pie
Yea bitch I'm the weed man, just bought all the pints from the lean man
Got a couple choppers, lotta sandwich bags, all sorts of glocks
Dolph just parked the drop on the block
Foreign parked in the front
A couple of oldschools in the back
All the work gone, so we ain't doin' nothing but fucking bitches in the trap
If I get a hoe to your bitches it's a wrap
Dope boy, in my free time I rap
Don't get me confused with none of these rappers
Bitch I'm your baby daddy favorite trapper
Make your whole salary in my neighbourhood, three days
Even my neighbour smoke weed, so yeah my neighbour good
Nigga I got my own neighbourhood watch, so if you try to get in my spot
My nigga you might just make it not out
Choppers across the street sittin' in that vacant house
Don't know what these niggas on, but we on that Paper Route
If it ain't about paper, I don't wanna hear it
And if that bitch ain't bad, I ain't going near it