Lyrical Breakdown of Bino Brown - Work On My Wrist - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Bino Brown - Work On My Wrist" 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 "Bino Brown - Work On My Wrist" 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 "Bino Brown - Work On My Wrist" 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!
I got the work on my wrist, I got the work on my shit
I got the work on my bitch, how I'm still working, I'm rich
Nigga you know that I'm working
Nigga you know my bitch twerking
Nigga you know I ain't hurting
I got to get it for certain
I got the work on my wrist, I got the work on my shit
I got the work on my bitch, you know that I'm working, I'm rich
Nigga you know I ain't hurting
Nigga you know that I'm working
Nigga you know my bitch twerking
I got to get it for certain
You keep them bowls of the regular
I got them bowls on the regular
My blunts deformed, irregular
My plug be calling my cellular
Nigga I get it, I get it
I multiply, stacking my digits
You coming up short like a midget
I'm throwing the pack like a Frisbee
You say that you getting some money
We know that you live with your mommy
We get this shit in, we break this shit down
You see this shit red like a mummy
You know I be running the trap
These niggas just running some laps
I weigh the dope up, I roll this shit up
I smoke this shit 'til I collapse
Memphis got nothing but shooters
Travelling like I'm a hooper
One day in Memphis, the next day Atlanta
They like the way I maneuver
This shit I'm smoking is potent
You catch me, I'm pouring my potion
I'm all on your girl like lotion
She see my network, she know that I'm social
These niggas be looking so pitiful
I'm dropping the bowls on the digital
I'm killing this shit, I'm killing this shit
Man all I need is my cereal
No limit with it, stay [?]
I hope in the Bentley, stay Audi
I'm sipping that lean, I'm smoking that kush
Shit knock me out like Ronda Rousey