Lyrical Breakdown of Odds - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Odds" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Young Dro weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Odds" 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 Dro 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 Dro's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Odds" not only celebrates Young Dro'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!
Stock broker, NASDAQ, helicopter pad cat
Bitch, where yo' ass at? I'm sitting up in this brass Lac'
Please, bring the gas mask, you know I got that gas packed
You ain't got no answer to "where the fuck is yo' ass at?"
Boing! Just, I suggest that we should go and grab that
Project shawty, I am in the cut right where the path at
Fuck all that bullshit, this where we do the math at
Show me where the cash at, I take off like a half back
Mafia, capisce? Dining at Joe's Crab Shack
Pull up in the Lamb', tell my bitch she could have that
Westside mansion, this where I take my bath at
After she get through serving me head, where her cab at?
Uh, I'm in the lab, black
You told me shawty life wasn't cool, so I declared that
You kidding me? Shooters in Italy, ask Sal that
Spit a nigga up, when they find him, they bring half back
Seventeen chains with eleven rings
Mr. "I'll Ball", baby, changing up the game
Thirties on the ring, same color cocaine
New dimension system, trunk on Liu Kang
Amtrak stacks, call me Mr. Soul Train
Aviator kush pack, Mr. Soul Plane
(Fat as Ben Frank, money in the bank
Diamonds chlorine, me, myself and Irene)
Bitch, I'm in the Z like Zorro
When I come through, I'mma come for something
Boo bring the nine-tails, Bobo bring the Pope or something
When I see this bitch, I'mma put four in his coat for ducking
Kill him for breakfast, I'mma eat his whole bunch for lunch
Mashing out, I'm the same nigga that they asking bout
Kick it like Liu Kang, it's time to bring the action out
I'm the real, sole controller of this monopoly
Get wrong for real and I'll knock you off properly
Gotta be on top of my shit cause you ain't hot as me
Niggas can't be me in the hood but they try to be
No! You are not Dro, motherfucker
You know you a hater, you a ho, motherfucker, nigga, Dro!
It's obvious, I come at these suckers at another angle
Picasso of my time, I'm a different painter
Throwing ones at a dime, she a perfect stranger
I shot my pistol in the sky, almost hit a angel
I ain't afraid to die, I'm in love with danger
I'm a lion tamer, I'm a ho trainer
Yo' bitch, she fuck with us, that's a no-brainer
She a slow brainer and a fast learner
She a bad bitch so she a good earner
I get to Ike-ing on yo' ho, she act like Tina Turner
I get to playing with these racks, it ain't safe, bitch
Smash you in yo' face with this cake, bitch